Forgive me, you all. I have exams going on. Will end this coming week. Please bear with me on this delay

aprilwise:
The temptation is too much for chioma and her husband is not helping matters. Thanks for the wonderful story

Thank you so much too for. always reading

gal10:
James is oliver and maybe he has a fetish for married women�

fingers crossed.

T

Twenty-six
Paul

“What have you got?”

Giving a cross-eyed teenager who just scored his first point in a table tennis game a high five, Paul signaled the man standing a few feet away from them to take over from him and he began walking away, strolling deeper into the open field where kids and teens where engaged in different activities.

"That man is smart, nobody has been able to present any evidence against him.” Bernard had been a canny politician and a careful lawbreaker. So much had been said about him engaging in illegal businesses ranging from arms dealing to drugs, but so far, no substantial evidence had been presented to be able to nail him.

"Your girl can help us with that,” George said from the other end of the phone. "She’s been with this man– she can nail him.”

“I don’t want her involved with him again.” Once was enough– that was if it happened once… Jesus! He couldn’t help the anger and jealousy growing inside him anew at the thought of it. He had tried to forget the story she told him…the disgusting pictures that had formed in his head while listening to her. It wasn’t her fault, Bernard took advantage of her.

She was paid to do it. A miserable thirty-thousand dollars. You would have given her a hundred and more.

But you didn’t know her then. She was a victim of the devil’s deceit, Paul.

The sound of her laughter floated into his ears, making him turn to see her sitting amidst several kids, two on her lap. She was laughing again and he couldn't help it when his lips stretched in a smile and for that brief moment, he forgot about her and Bernard…forgot that George was at the other end of the phone...

"Paul, she only has to agree to meet him…”

"No.”

Scarlett’s laughter was like the rest of her– beautiful and warm. He would want to make her laugh again and again, just so he could hear that sound and see her giggly smile as much as possible. Because her laughter was a rare thing– until they came to Armstrong– which made it even better whenever she did it. In those few moments, the emotional pains that were constantly in her eyes would disappear and she would be genuinely happy.

"She doesn’t force laughter for things that don’t deserve it…” Paul murmured, totally forgetting he still had George at the other end of the phone.

“What?”

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t intend for you to hear that.”

"She’s with you there?”

"Mh-hm, having the fun of her life.”

“And your parents don’t mind?”

“Dad hasn’t seen her yet. Mom is smitten by her.”

“Can I ask you something, boy?”

"Okay.”

"What do you want with her?”

What did he want? Everything. Every part of Scarlett. Her promise to be with him, her commitment to sticking to that promise, her heart… her body– he wanted to own that part of her too. He wanted to run his hands through her sleek skin as he slowly undresses her. God knew how many nights he had lain awake– since that incident in his hotel room happened and he had seen her beautiful unclothedness– imagining what it would feel like to run his tongue all over her bare skin. Every part of it… Every part of it.

He had those thoughts running through his head when Scarlett lifted her head and locked her gaze with him as she settle the kids on her lap down to the ground. Her laughter gradually disappeared– being replaced by something… not extremely noticeable but he saw it as they both kept staring into each other’s eyes. She’s assuming a wistful, lonely, sad look. Like she remembered something… someone. The same look she gave him in her sitting room, the day he walked in on her and the lady Meggie. The same look she’d been giving him each time he told her he likes her a lot.

“Paul?”

"I’m in love with her.”

"I’ll be damned.”

After ending the call with George, he slipped the phone into his pocket and headed toward Scarlett and the kids. His face broke into a smile as her eyes narrowed and she… don’t look away, please, he willed her.

What was she thinking? That he was angry with her? That he was considering pushing her away? Okay, he was angry and confused and… and… he didn't even know what he felt and why. They hadn’t talked much since they came here, it was like they were deliberately avoiding each other, and thanks to him, the guilt he thought he’d helped banished from her had returned. She couldn’t even hold his gaze for long.

But he wasn’t going to let her go. He had fallen deeply in love with her to allow her to slip out of his fingers or see her suffer from the guilt of her past.

Bending to kiss her neck from behind her.

"Having fun?” he muttered.

"Mh.”

Taking an empty seat next to hers, he grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, hoping she would get the message. “So, what have we been doing?” he asked the excited children.

“Making up stories!”

“And tellin' ’em!”

“I sang with my sister!”

“You have a terrible voice...”

“No, I don’t?”

“Yes, you do...”

“Okay, stop— Cherish, please...” The Jacob twins. If he let them, they would argue forever. “Who wants to hear my own story?”

“Will you be making it up?” a child asked

“Uh... I guess not.”

“It won't be funny,” Another child said.

“But you don’t know that now, Michael,” Scarlett said to the child.

****
Scarlett

Not only was the story very funny, but the way he was telling it got the kids seated legs-crossed on the grass, rolling with laughter. Scarlett could swear that when his voice rose with excitement as he continued telling the story— something about him getting so hungry during church service when he was ten, and had to sneak into the church kitchen to eat some of the sausage biscuits that were kept in the fridge for the kid’s Sunday school— it had captured the attention of the late-teen girls within six miles away and had them coming closer. His laughter, neither manly nor feminine was full of life and happiness. It meshed well with his laid-back appearance and made him more pretty.

Bringing her hand, the one he’d squeezed a few minutes ago, up, she examined her fingers as though he left something there. But he did... his thoughts that she still wasn’t able to decode. Giving him a side glance while rubbing her neck— the place he had planted a kiss on, she swallowed the sadness that was gradually enveloping her.

He’d said nothing to her since they arrived here. Only staring, turning his eyes away when she caught him. She could pay anything to know what was going on in his mind. If only he would pull her away from here and talk to her, tell her how much he hated her now... how he would prefer she left. She would give him nothing but shame and reproach.

And the video... it would be the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen if Bernard sent it to him. Paul would never look at her the same way again. An involuntary sob climbed up his throat to escape from her lips.

“Are you okay?” she heard him ask.

Mouth gaped, she stared at him for a while before nodding her head. He was about to say something more to her, but the kids wanted his attention. Everybody had been wanting his attention here— The boys at the tennis court, the teen girls making artwork some miles away, the church workers, his mother, Aunt Lucy, Ethan. It wearied her so much that he had to give his attention to all of them. And yet, he had not found time to speak to her about what happened earlier.

“Where you caught?” a child asked.

“Yes. I didn’t know they were keeping inventory of them,” Paul replied, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from her. “I had to tell the truth when Aunt Lucy asked who ate nine sausages from the fridge.”

“Nine!”

“Yes.”

“You must have gotten sick!”

“I did, later.”

Scarlett was more than relieved when her phone began to vibrate. It was a perfect excuse for her to get up and leave his side before she would burst into uncontrollable tears. “’xcuse me,” she said, getting up and leaving before he could stop her.

Her phone had stopped vibrating when she got to a safe distance. Checking the caller ID, her heart began to race. It wasn’t a number she knew. Could it be that what she’d been dreading… the man she feared was lurking around the corner had chosen to make his presence known?

The phone began to chime again. She was reluctant to pick. When she did, she remained silent, waiting for the caller to speak…

“Hi,” the voice said.

It was different. There was no coldness in it, no threat. "Hi,” she replied.

“Scarlett?”

"Yes?”

“Good. We need to see– it's urgent.”

“I… who are you?”

“George. George, Paul’s manager.” The man was rushing his words. "I brought you to his hotel room the other day. You remember?”

“Yes, and thank you for…”

"Good,” he cut in. "He told me about Bernard.”
He– he told him? What did he… who else did he speak to about it?

“This man can go nasty if not stopped. And I fear what would become of Paul’s career– his reputation, being a gospel singer and the son of the bishop.”

She knew why this man was calling her. Why Paul wouldn’t speak to her? He wanted her gone but couldn’t get himself to do it personally, so he had spoken to this man to help him do it. To explain to her better why she must leave.

“I understand.” Fu… God! Her eyes were heavy with tears threatening to drop. She wasn’t going to allow it to spill, not when some kids were walking toward her beaming her their charming smiles. "I will never allow anything to happen to him.” Her voice quivered.

“Good,” the man said. "So I’ve got a plan.” A… plan? "Paul mustn’t know about this… he would never approve of you getting involved.”

Have been busy with school work. My exam starts next week Thursday so I've been preparing my seminar papers and reading. Please bear with me.

Will use this weekend to write a chapter

Debbieadewumi09:
Thanks for the update...

Men like Paul, be doing most
He deserves an accolade for real

He really do.

Have been busy with school work. My exam starts next week Thursday so I've been preparing my seminar papers and reading. Please bear with me.

Will use this weekend to write a chapter

Twenty-five

Scarlett

“I’m waiting for you in the garden. You have half an hour to get down here or I would come and get you.”

Giggling, she put the phone away and got up. He had handed the gadget back to her this morning, encouraging her to have it when she was hesitating. Seriously, she felt safer, freer, and happier when the phone was away from her. But how long was she going to stay that way? She needed the phone. Paul said so himself. And she also needed to deal with her demons. According to him, “You have Jesus now, he would tell you what to do and when you feel threatened, call on him.”

Her problem was she didn’t think she was capable of calling Jesus the way everyone here does.

She’d seen Paul’s mom pray. Have heard Aunt Lucy raise her voice in those sweet old-time praises to Jesus. Everyone in the castle knew how to reach out to Jesus... the joy in their faces, the sweetness in their tone, the reverence, the tears that runs down Paul’s eyes those times he would sit to play the grand antique-like piano at a corner in his studio room— he’d taken her up there once to show her his treasures, his guitars— she counted four of them, and his three pianos, this grand one his most cherished. They’d gotten lost in there, singing, laughing, and... ignoring the sexual heat that was thick around them until he told her it was dangerous having her in there and had led her back down. Since then, she’d snuck up to watch him play and sing at nights, before going to bed. Those times he didn’t even know she was there, or so she thought.

Opening the wardrobe to bring down a leaf-green, thick satin, balloon long sleeved body fitted pencil three quarter length gown. One of the many things he paid for in that shop before they left Toronto. Bending down, she picked a pair of Manolo Blahnik heels that had the same color and texture as the gown— he bought them too— and walked back to the bed to begin dressing up.

She wished she had the faith she saw in these people. The assurance in their eyes when they said God could do anything... could take away every problem. Yes, she had confessed her sins and had prayed them away. But, she still felt them around her; Some of her girls had called her line and had sent messages. her clients had also wondered where she’d been and why she’d not answered her calls or returned their messages. They wanted girls, their offers were huge— as always. But she’d dismissed them all via messages, of course, she didn’t trust herself to remain firm if she spoke to them.

One of her girls had wanted to know why she wasn’t going to link them to jobs again. To that, she had no reply. They wouldn’t understand. She didn’t understand either.

Was it Jesus?

Or was it her feelings for Paul?

Maybe it was both.

Done with dressing— complemented her collection with a white Stetson hat to match her handbag and a sunshade over her eyes, she went to the window and looked down the garden. He was still there with the two men that came to see him some hours ago, but now he has fully dressed; a Black long-sleeved shirt on tan-brown pants. He said it was a business luncheon and he looked everything business-like. Only his hair spoke otherwise.

She loved it that way... the baby curls... the ginger flame color.

He had taken his time appraising her looks when she met him at the garden, dismissing the men, he’d taken her hands, planted a kiss on them, and led her to the car that would be taking them to the venue.

****

The place he took her was more like a classy restaurant. The man they went to see— must be the owner of the place, was sitting behind an Italian marble desk littered with various silver and gold awards. Framed photos of what must be his family took pride on a conspicuous side of the table.

Scarlett didn’t take notice of all these, nor did she hear anything the two men were talking about because she was busy remembering.

Bernard was the horrendous man that forced her to have an orgy with his friends. Bernard would instantly recognize her as the paid LovePeddler he had used and abused severally.
Sitting stiff butt on the chair beside Paul who was busy describing properties suitable for the building of a hotel, Scarlett stared at the bastard who had the power to destroy her chance with Paul. Picturing him not behind this marble desk, but in a room inside his magnificent house in Danforth stroking his Dick while watching his friend fvck every hole she had on her body.

Slowly turning to settle his gaze at her, a crooked smile plastered on his thick lips. “So, how are you doing?” he asked. The second word he has said to her since they arrived. The first was ‘What would you want to have?’

He hadn’t recognized her— yet. But then, that’s because she had the protection of her hat and shade. If she took those off...

More than anything, she felt bad about Paul finding out about her relationship with this man. He would feel let down. She should have told him this too. But how did you casually reveal an item of information like this? She didn’t even think it mattered. It was part of the dirty pasts she collectively confessed to Paul and God. Now it’s staring her in the face, asking her how she was doing...

“I’m... doing alright.”

“And you insist you don’t want anything?” The question was now directed to Paul. “It’s supposed to be a lunch meeting and this is my damn restaurant.”

She didn’t know Bernard had any other business other than doing drugs. And how the
fuc... hell did Paul meet such a terrible man?

“Business first,” Paul said, reaching out to cover her hands with his as if he knew she was tensed.

“But we are done with business. The man that recommended you said you are a Christian. A son to a Pastor. You wouldn’t dupe me of my money, would you?”

“Of cause not. You get the property you are paying for.”

Good, good!” Getting up. “So shall we move to the restaurant to eat? Bill is on me.”

Scarlett couldn’t lift her face from the plate of food before her, yet she couldn’t eat even a little out of it as they sat around an exclusively reserved table.

“’xcuse me,” Pushing her chair back. “I need to... to use the ladies.” She needed to escape. Seating beside this man, trying to pretend she’d never met him before was torturing her.
Removing her hat and her shade, she threw some water to her face, searched her bag for a towel, and dabbed. Then slowly looked up in the mirror and her eyes met his. Bernard was standing behind her. A knowing smile on his lips. He recognized her alright.

“Pull your dress up for me, million-dollar cvnt.”
Turning to face him, “I think,” Scarlett slowly said. “You are making a big mistake.

“A mistake?” He chuckled. “Don't talk crap. I recognize you the moment you walk into my office with him. No one could forget that body.”

“Am I supposed to be flattered by that remark?”

Closing the door and leaning on it, enjoying every minute of the confrontation. “You can be what you like. Suit yourself Mrs. Clurkin— you married to him, ain’t you?”

Shaking her head, she willed herself to be strong. “You are sick, you know that? Really sick.”

“Why?” He snapped, suddenly angry.

“Because, if I were the girl you thought I was...”

“Which you are...”

Scarlett ignored the interruption. “If I were that girl, what made you think that in a million years, I’d go back to doing what I was doing?”

“Everyone has a price,” he said flatly. “And all women are whores. Take my wife for example, she’d screw a snake if it has the bad sense to crawl into our estate. I know all about her, so I take my revenge. Do you blame me?”

“Divorce would have been a better idea.”

“Why would I divorce her? I love her. Pull your dress up, Baby doll. We have just a few seconds to do this before your man gets suspicious.”

“Forget it.”

“Don’t be silly girl.”

“What are you threatening me with if I refuse you?”

“Does he know you are a cvnt that has screwed the whole of Canada?”

“Yes, he does.”

“Oh! And he still married you? I’m shocked.”

“He's a good man, Bernard. Not everyone is as cold-hearted as you are.” And she wasn’t going to tell him that she and Paul had only shared a moment of passionate kissing and nothing more. That he wasn’t her husband.

“I’m impressed but would like to see how he reacts watching the video of his beloved being screwed by three men.”

He... had a video? He had recorded that nasty scene? “I can sue you.”

“In this country, power rules. Surely you know that by now?”

She shrugged, trying to hide her sudden nervousness, to maintain an outward calmness. “I can tell my true-life story to the press. What you did to me.”

Laughing out loud, he matched forward and grabbed her by the waist. “Who would believe you?” he gritted, forcing her dress up while she struggled to keep it down. “You don’t use to fight me before, baby doll. What happened to you? Is it him?”

“I cannot do this with you, Bernard.”

“Maybe not here,” But his large hands were in her dress, his fingers hurting her skin. “You know you like it so much, LovePeddler.”

“Get off me! Leave me alone!”

To her relief, the door was pushed open, and three ladies walked in. slowing their strides to stare at them.

“I have the video, Scarlett. You would not want me to show it to him.”

“Shove it down your fat ass.” Rolling her dress back down, she grabbed her bag and her other things and hurried off. She didn’t see
the determining anger on Bernard’s face.

Paul got to his feet immediately when he saw her approaching. “Are you okay? You were taking so long...”

“Let's get out of here.”

“What happened? You look so disoriented.”

“Paul, please let's go.”

They had driven for a while in silence before he asked. “You know that man, don't you?”

Her answer in form of hot tears came rushing down her cheeks. This was going to be hard. Forgetting her past would be very hard.

“You’ve...” he swallowed. “Slept with him.” It wasn’t a question, but he was waiting for her to respond.

“How... how did you know?”

He said nothing.

****
Paul

He suspected there was something wrong as soon as they were ushered into the office, though he couldn’t say what. But every piece started coming together when he noticed Scarlett’s reluctance to come to sit on the chair offered to her. And then she wouldn’t lift her face to respond to the man. She had suddenly gone cold… and jittery.

Then she’d left her food untouched. For a lady who had an early breakfast, he had expected her to be hungry but she wasn't. Or she was but was too shocked to show it.

What M.r Bernard uttered when she left helped confirmed his suspicion.

“How long have you known her?” he had asked.

“Long enough. Why are you asking?”

The big man had given him a mocking gaze.

"Heard you are a gospel singer. Trust me, you don’t want that girl anywhere near you.”

“Fortunately, we are an item. Me and her.”

"Ha!” the man had Harrumphed. "Be careful, young man. She’s bad news to your kind of men.”

"You– you know her how?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to hear the story.” Getting up, the man excused himself. "I have a business to attend to. You’ll have the money wired to you tomorrow.”

Now listening to Scarlett narrating the disgusting thing that happened between her and the man, what the man did to her, he had the strong urge to pull the car to a stop, get out and throw up.
What?

Why didn’t she mention this story to him earlier?

“What else?” he asked. His eyes fixed on the road.

“He had a video.”

“That bastard.”

“Said, he would send it to you,” she said.

"Paul– I can go. Let me leave you alone before I ruin you.”

“You are not going anywhere until I said you are.”

That afternoon, as the driver slowed in front of the castle– he was supposed to drop her off there and proceeded to the children and teens outreach center– he suddenly realizes he didn’t want to let her out of his sight. He didn’t want to return and she wouldn’t be there, waiting for him. "You are coming with me to the outreach.”

“Paul…”

“I’m not asking, Scarlett.” Her lips clamped shut immediately. "I’m saying that you will be coming with me to spend the rest of the day with a bunch of kids.”

"Okay.”

He would try to push what happened in that restaurant to the back of his mind. Would try to make her do the same too. They would talk about it again when they return.

Bam17:
Ma'am Rosemary, you're always calling your stories short when they're long. Well, the ones I've read. I missed them, though. Will start reading this.

maybe because I naturally write long stories. The shortest of my standalone stories is 60k words

So when I write about 30-50k words I call it short. (mostly have them in anthologies) but don't worry, I will try to make this one shorter than I'm used to (so help me God)

I'm a panster, not a plotter, every new chapter comes fresh that same day it's posted and Idea comes as I write, most times I can't stop the story until I run out

But like I said, I'll try to make this the shortest of them all. No fear, you hear?

Bam17:
Ma'am Rosemary, you're always calling your stories short when they're long. Well, the ones I've read. I missed them, though. Will start reading this.

Content Warning. Sensitive topic touched.
Explicit, erotic words used.

You are free to argue and debate

Jecint:
This is beautiful
You write so well, Rosemary.

I'm blushing!!!

Ann2012:
Thanks for the update ma’am

Thank you so much, sis

Adeola25:
Wonderful as always. Your writing prowess always amaze me. More grease to your elbow ma'am

Thank you so much

will share the next chapter tomorrow [quote author=softy post=115803764][/quote]

.”
yet.

I have a seminar defence today. Will write again after I'm done.

Thanks for your patients, everyone.

Eight

Paul

“My parents are nice people.”

He was sure he’d muttered those words to Scarlett at least twenty times. But as the jet touched ground, he felt the need to give her hand a gentle reassuring squeeze. “They’ll love you,” he added.

She’d been all excited about this trip until he mentioned that he was sharing the same house with his parents. She didn’t understand why a grown man, a fucking rich celebrity— her language not his, would share the same house with his parents. According to her, It‘s like an unwritten rule in the US for every grown ass child to leave home.

But his wasn’t like the ordinary US home. Aside the fact that he sunk millions of dollars— theirs' was a generational wealth. His grandfather was a king in the real estate market who made the list of the top richest men in the world during his time. Even after his death and his wealth shared among his three sons, the family net worth had remained staggeringly high, and because Paul loved aesthetics, he chose to tread in his grandfather’s footpath... real estate. Though not as fierce as his grandfather and his uncles in the business, he still made a hell lot of money from it. At age twenty-five, he was already making his own hundreds of thousands of dollars that wasn’t from music.

So, where was he? Yes... aside refurbishing his father’s decent manor— inherited from his own father— to a modernized castle, he practically run that home as his parents had now channeled every of their energy to the gospel and humanitarian services. Not that they were too old now, but it was nice relieving them of the duties of managing the staff and every other thing that didn’t involve the church— the church was his father’s calling, not Paul’s, though the man was still insisting Paul get involved.
Besides, he had grown to love the castle...its warmth, the laughter that reverberated around it, the sweet smell of joy on those walls... the feel of God and the Holy Spirit on everything inside it. It housed a lot of memories... his grandfather’s laughter, his sister’s beautiful but short life. he’d even turned the penthouse at the uppermost part of the building into his studio, extending the size further to contain everything he needed to make music. He was sure Scarlett would love it.

“Paul,” Scarlett cast her concerned gaze at him.
“Are you sure I can do this? You can tell them to fly me back to...”

“You are not going anywhere, Barbie.” He didn’t know when they crossed the threshold of using each other’s formal names to endearing names. But he was comfortable calling her Black Barbie. It suits her... perfectly describing her curves and beautiful face, and those luscious lips... Jesus, he should concentrate on convincing her that she’d be fine with him here not staring at her lips and fighting not to cover them with his. “You made a promise to follow me anywhere I’ll be going.”

“I can’t remember making such a promise.” She was smiling now, and Paul was loving it.

“Of course, you did!” feigning surprise. “Or are you now not bold enough to make do your promise?” He knew what she said to him and that didn’t sound like a stern promise. Yet...” Don’t back out now or I’d be forced to think you a chicken.”

“Paul!” Her smiles had broadened now. “You know I’m not scared to go anywhere or meet anyone.”

Yet she was tapping her right foot repeatedly on the floor, her almost imperceptible jittery fingers gripping her thighs. “Okay... then let's do it.”

“Maybe you should go first,” she said. “This is your home, your people. They’ll come all over you immediately you step out of this plane, and I wouldn’t want to be seen near you.”

“What’s with the not wanting to be seen? Scarlett, you are with me.”

“I don’t want to give you hard time here... your family and fans would think that... you know... we have something going on.” Biting on her bottom lip, she looked down at her fingers before bringing her face up again.

“Funny.” He also thought they had something going on. No, not thought... he knew there was this chemistry, this emotional cord pulling the two of them together. Hadn't she realized? Or was it just sexual attraction for her? “I don’t care what anyone would think,” he said, looking up at the stewardess who had walked up to them, waiting to be given instructions.

The jet had stopped now, and Ethan was already heading out with his phone on his ear.

“We should get down now.”

Bopping her head in agreement, "Okay,” she said and allow him to take her hand and began leading her out.

“Welcome back to Armstrong, M.r Paul,” Van, stepping out from the cockpit said, his eyes leaving Paul to settle on Scarlett. "I hope it was a smooth ride for you, Ma’am?”

"It was. Thank you.”

****
She was uncomfortable. He could tell from the way she kept tightening her fingers around his and releasing. Was it what he said? Or was walking side by side with him unnerving her? But they’d done it before– in Montreal. Riding the train together, going on dates, walking the streets, dancing… they had even shared a passionate kiss before onlookers. Why was it different for her here?

“Fvck,” he heard her mutter under her breath, shielding her face with her hand as two young men with cameras– paparazzi he guessed, fell in line with them, hurried ahead to turn and positioned their cameras for some shots. "Did you announce your coming?” she asked.

“I don’t need to. This is my city.” Letting go of her hand, he placed it around her waist. He would have loved to grip her tight and pull her even closer to him, but that would say too much to these men back-striding while capturing them. They must be working for some entertainment newspapers, or could be independent bloggers, whichever one, he wouldn’t want to give too much out to the press. Not yet.

“Paul Clurkin!” Turning his head on hearing his name, he waved at the group of young fellows squirming with excitement some miles away.
“We love you, Paul Clurkin!"

“Paul...” Scarlett muttered, “I don’t know what to do... how to act around your fans.”

“You are doing great,” he slightly bent and whisper to her as they neared the waiting Ford Explorer Edge at the lot.

“M.r Paul!” one of the paparazzi called out while adjusting his aperture. "Who is the lady?”
Ignoring the question, he helped Scarlet into the car…

"Someone special?” now standing too close, preventing him from shutting the car door, the young man probed.

"Someone very special,” Paul agreed.

Ethan walked into the scene on time to stop the dogged young men from taking more pictures and asking further questions.

"You know you would be trending on every entertainment gist blog and newspaper by tomorrow?” Ethan said, shutting Paul’s door.

He knew. That's the life– unfortunately. “Where did you disappear to, man?” he asked immediately Ethan took his seat beside the driver.

“To meet with Pastor Noel and get this,” lifting a parcel. “He picked it for the bishop— your father on his visit to Brazil.” Ethan threw the package to Paul.

“What is it?” Checking the thing out.

“I don’t know.” Half-turning to face Paul. “Maybe you do.”

Ethan. He‘d known the middle-aged man since he was a boy when the man was walking for his grandfather. Ethan was one of the best-looking and kindhearted men he’d seen, but age nine to twelve was a roguish time in every boy’s life and Paul had practiced his many mischiefs on Ethan; pranking him, sneaking into his office to eat the apple pies in his mini refrigerator, hiding inside his car and remaining there as the man drive home, only to pop out once he turns his ignition off. then Ethan would take the pain to drive him back to the manor. Now working for his father, Paul was still fond of the man, and he was sure the feeling was mutual. Ethan could do anything for him. And sometimes they did play pranks on each other like old times...

“So,” Ethan said. “You’re opening it?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Ethan!” he gritted, now laughing while his hand searched the seat to meet with Scarlett’s. That didn’t escape Ethan’s eyes.

“You’re bringing a lady home, huh?” His eyes weren’t on Paul now but Scarlett, giving her a charming smile that could win a thousand women’s heart. “That’s the first—”

“There’s always a first time, Ethan.”

“I know... I know. And I’m happy.” then to Scarlett he said, “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in a while.”

****
Scarlett

Everything about this city was different. Welcoming. Maybe it was because he was with her, squeezing her hands and whispering into her ears every now and then like she’d seen lovers do, or because his people... the crew members in the plane with them, this man Ethan, the fans that were so exhilarated on seeing him at the airport, even this driver— except the two camera guys— had treated her with undeserving respect. Undeserving because she knew it was all because of him. They love and adore him and would do the same to anyone seen with him.

Only if they knew.

“We are home,” he announced softly to her as the car pulled into a... a castle that stood as if it was conjured from a white child’s story book— she’d read a lot of them, even as an adult, they fascinated her. Good gracious! Did he live here? She’d seen mansions, beautiful artistic buildings owned by the rich and dangerous men in Toronto— her clients, but nothing prepared her for the sight before and around her as he helped her out of the car.

“Barbie? You are welcome to The Clurkin’s home.” he lowered his head and whispered into her ears. Why did he always do that? and why did she feel jitters in her core each time his breath grazed through her ears and that side of her face?

“It’s beautiful.” Perfect. It was perfect. Scarlett imagined unicorns in the courtyard, because if those towers could exist, why not? “Magnificent...” Everything screamed excellence and beauty as if those who built it were set on perfection.

“Paul!” A woman just came out of the building and was half running towards them. “Darling...”

Letting her hand go, Paul did a small run and in a split second, he was in the arms of the plump woman in well-fitted trousers and a turtle-necked yellow top.

Watching as the woman lifted her face to kiss Paul on the lips. she was convinced that the woman would either be his mother or a relative. Her long ginger flame hair, her whiteness, the sound of her laughter... the resemblance was obvious.

They had their foreheads locked together, talking in high voices and laughing as though it was only the two of them in the world and no one else mattered— she didn’t matter... Oh, she mattered. Paul seemed to be talking to the woman about her... they had their eyes on her.
“Fvck,” she was trembling, and it amazed her because it wasn’t like she was seeking Paul’s parent’s validation. Oh fvck. Fvck. She was... desperately was. Maybe because for once in years, she was craving for a family... a place to belong, a woman to call...

“Hey, Scarlett,” he was panting with excitement as he and his mother approached her. “Meet my mom.”

What was she supposed to do... how was she supposed to greet the woman... which way would be appropriate? “Hi. Mrs. Clurkin,” she said, offering her hand for a shake.

“Call me Joanne, please.” Grabbing her stretched-out arm eagerly, the woman moved her gaze to her son’s face.”
.
“Mum, she’s special to me.”

“Special...” There was a question in the woman’s voice. An explanation Paul had to make. But for now... “Come, sweetheart. Welcome to my home.”

Ann2012:


No problem ma’am
All the best

Thank you, sis

Thought I could post something today, but have been very busy at work. And I have two class assessments tomorrow, another one on Tuesday next week (fat to read )

Please, you all should give me a little break.

Will be back when I'm done with reading.

Don't forget I love you

Thought I could post something today, but have been very busy at work. And I have two class assessments tomorrow, another one on Tuesday next week (fat to read )

Please, you all should give me a little break.

Will be back when I'm done with reading.

Don't forget I love you

Jhay1122:
Thank you for this wonderful piece ma
Ur pen won’t dry

Amen. Thank. you so much

Ann2012:
Thanks for the update ma’am

Thank you sis

I hope we all understand why there are obscene language in this story?

Our Heroin, Scarlett is a prostitute, so if this story must be relatable, she has to use street language: Fvck, shit, and the rest, until she cleans up. So don't get it twisted.

God bless us all.

Jhay1122:
Thank you for this wonderful piece ma
Ur pen won’t dry

Amen

]
.”