Chapter 24

That Weekend

Chandler

My arm was wrappedaround Cheyanne as we watched my parents and her grandfather talk. I didn't have a doubt they would get along well, but seeing it in person made us both happy. Mama had taken Cheyanne on as her daughter the second I told them we were together, and Pops had already started putting money in a separate account for the wedding and our kids' education. Regardless of how they or her grandfather felt, I was going to be with Cheyanne, but knowing we had their approval and seeing how well they got along made what we shared even better.

"Oh, shit," Cheyanne muttered, dropping her arm from around me.

"What's wrong?" I asked, keeping my eyes trained on the man heading in her grandfather's direction.

"That's Dedrick Graham. He's an ex."

"Did y'all end things on good terms?"

Her head shook as she licked the corner of her mouth. "No." Chuckling absently, Cheyanne wiped her hands down her already smooth dress. "He… was only with me to get close to Papa. When Papa hired him, he broke up with me, which in turn caused Papa to fire him. Dedrick ended up trying to sue Papa for wrongful termination. Thankfully, I had him admit to being with me just for the job on a recording, which constituted the termination. Papa has a very strict morality clause and using me for the position fell under lacking integrity."

I could tell by Port's stance he wasn't trying to hear what Dedrick had to say. He'd also shifted slightly, blocking his view of us, which led me to believe he, like I, didn't want this nigga to engage with Cheyanne. If he tried, I didn't have a problem knocking his ass out. It wouldn't be the first time I'd have bloody clothes and bruised knuckles defending her, and I didn't care if it wouldn't be the last.

"You wanna get outta here? I don't want him to ruin our day," I said.

"Please."

But before we could leave, Dedrick spotted us. He made his way over to us, and the smug grin on his face let me know what type of time he was going to be on. Gently, I pushed her behind me as he stepped in our space.

"It's good to see you again, Cheyanne," he said, looking around me to her. His tongue rolled over his teeth as he looked at me. "She's on you now? Why do I not find that hard to believe? Two stuck up ass rich families about to become one."

"She's on me, I'm in her, however you want to describe it… she's mine."

Chuckling, Dedrick ran his fingers down the corners of his mouth. "I find it funny that you wanted to hide me, yet you're with him, and out in public no less. So much for you not wanting people to know who you are and where you come from. It took me a whole fuckin' year with you to even get in the same room as your grandfather, but this nig—"

My fist in his mouth silenced him. He stumbled back as part of his tooth flew out of his mouth. Instantly, blood began to pour. Buttoning my suit jacket, I stood over him and said, "You will not talk to her, now or ever, and you for damn sure will not disrespect her. Do you understand me?"

"Chandler!" Mama yelled, rushing over as quickly as her heels would allow.

"The boy is fine," Pops said.

Port remained silent as he grinned. He gripped my shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze, nodding his head in approval. I guess the embarrassment of the situation was why Dedrick shuffled to his feet and quickly left the room. I turned to face Cheyanne, whose eyes were trained on him as he fled.

"You good?" I checked, grabbing her chin and pulling her eyes to me.

"Chandler, you really didn't have to…"

"Let the man protect you and stand up for your honor," Port said, cutting her off.

With a sigh, Cheyanne ran her fingers through her hair.

"Are you good?" I repeated, to which she nodded.

"Y-yes, I'm fine. Thank you."

I nodded and took her hand into mine. "I hate for our afternoon to end like this, but I'm gonna get her home. We'll see y'all later."

We all exchanged hugs before I led her out, hoping Dedrick was still outside.

The ride home was silent. She didn't say it, but I felt like she was upset with me, though I didn't know why. Cheyanne was out of her damn mind if she thought I was going to let anyone disrespect her.

When we arrived, I had my driver to park between both complexes, figuring she'd want to be alone.

"Do you… want me to walk you up?" I asked.

She looked over at me with a pout. "You're not coming up?"

I held back my smile. "I wasn't sure you'd want me to. You seem upset, so I wanted to give you space."

"I'm not upset with you; I'm upset with the situation. Upset that I had to even see his face."

"I know we can't control who shows up in public places, but tell me what I can do to keep you from being affected by it."

She huffed and looked out of the window. "You mean other than hitting anyone who disrespects me?"

"Besides that."

I saw her cheek lift from her smile. "I didn't want you getting out of character because of me, but I really do appreciate you sticking up for me, babe."

"It's my character to protect the woman I love, and I'll do that however I need to."

Her head slowly turned in my direction. "Come up with me."

"Okay." I told Stan he could call it a night after we got out. I had a feeling we'd be spending the rest of the evening in bed. She seemed a bit lighter now, but in case it wasn't easy for her to shake seeing Dedrick, I wanted to make sure I'd be at her disposal.

Three Days Later

Cheyanne setthe plate filled with various breakfast foods in front of me as I sat at the island.

"Enjoy." She placed a kiss to my lips that I was too distracted to fully return. "What's wrong?"

I didn't want to tell her, but I knew I had to. Running my hand over my face, I set my phone on the island. "We should eat before I tell you."

"Uh oh. That bad?"

"Not to me, but it may be to you."

"Okay." She agreed, and I was glad she listened to me. I didn't want the news to ruin us enjoying the breakfast she prepared, especially since she didn't cook often. I smiled as I thought back to a conversation we had when we'd first come back home from Sri Lanka and confirmed our commitment to each other.

"Should we discuss your expectations of me?" I asked as we lay in bed.

Her fingers were connected with mine, and her head was in my lap as she gazed at the ceiling.

"Yes, if you're ready to discuss your expectations of me."

"You're already doing, giving, and being what I need."

Cheyanne chuckled. "You mean to tell me you don't have a list of things you want me to bring to the table?"

I released a bark of laughter. "Baby, I build the table and expect you to sit down and feast. That's all."

She turned on her side to face me. "I want to make you as happy as you make me. I want to give to you like you give to me. There has to be more that you want than just… me."

My fingers slipped through her hair as I leaned forward to kiss her. "You respect me, and that matters above all. You love me, you trust me, you submit to me. You appreciate and support me. You don't deny me of yourself and your presence. You increase my peace and happiness, and you influence me to be better. That's what I need, and that's what you've always given. I can buy myself literally anything I want, but the ways you consider me are special. I don't need you to cook and clean; I pay people for that. I love you for you, and I'm with you for you, so trust me when I say you're all I want and need."

She turned again, this time so that her face was facing my lap. A low groan escaped me when she pulled my semi-hard dick out of my boxers, and I definitely didn't mind our conversation taking a physical turn.

"I can't believe you've cooked for me three times this week," I said, returning to the present.

Cheyanne smiled and shot me a wink. "You should feel special because I don't even cook for Papa this much."

We continued to talk and laugh and enjoy each other's company. I hated that what I had to show her could potentially ruin her mood, but I was really hoping it didn't.

"Okay, what is it?" she asked, emptying our plates.

"Dru sent me an article from NowI Ain't One to Gossip."

"Oh." Her shoulders slouched immediately. Now I Ain't One to Gossip was an online blog that followed the Black elites, secret society, and the socialites of Rose Valley Hills. I'd been mentioned in it a couple of times over the years but never cared enough to read. This, however, was different. "What does it say?"

"Basically that you're Port Green's granddaughter and that you've been living under a rock with a changed name. I assume Dedrick is behind this because it alludes to your dating life being the reason for the secrecy."

"Yeah, I guess he went to them out of ego and spite."

Sighing, Cheyanne washed and dried her hands.

"How do you feel? You've worked hard over the years to keep your life separate from your grandfather's, and now, that's over."

She waited until she was seated next to me to respond. "You know, I thought that coming out would be the worst thing that could happen, but I'm okay. I have you, and I know what we have is real. That's what's most important to me. I've always been proud of Papa, and I'm okay with people knowing who he is to me. As long as we can continue to live a quiet life, I'm good."

I pulled her from onto my lap. "I'm proud of you, and I'm going to make sure you have just that."

"You're not gonna go after him, are you?"

I laughed, and realizing she was serious made me laugh harder. "Baby…"

"Let it ride, Chandler. It was a bitter and petty move, but we're above that. He actually helped me out, because he removed something I feared and showed me I could handle it. If anything, I should thank him."

"Nah, don't say shit to his ass. I won't bother him about it since you're good, but it's a wrap for him and any other man in your past."

Usually, the sight of her beautiful smile would soften me, but the thought of her reaching out to him overpowered that and kept my heart hard.

"Look at you being all possessive and controlling."

Her cackle finally made me crack a smile.

"I see you wanna play."

"I'm just tickled by this side of you. I like it though."

"You weren't going to have a choice."

She rolled her eyes and smiled harder as I kissed her. I could tell the soft manner in which I loved and handled her could make her sometimes forget I was a man at the end of the day—a Black man at that. I didn't mind giving her a reminder whenever she needed it, especially when it ended with her in my arms, against my lips, and on my dick.