Page 50 of Like You Love Me

“He’s not as sexy as his older brother, but a close second,” Debra said, and the women laughed.

Remy stood at the center of the stage and signaled for the deejay to lower the music. Once he calmed the crowd, Remy pointed to the auctioneer, and the bidding began. While he walked across the stage flexing and profiling, the bidding climbed.

Sheyna asked over the noise, “Where did the camera crew come from?”

“That’s not Channel 8 News,” Danica added.

Bianca rolled her eyes. “He probably brought them with him.”

“So, this is a publicity stunt?” Debra asked.

Bianca gave a rude snort. “Are you surprised?”

“No, not really,” Debra managed between laughter. Nevertheless, the bidding intensified, and the women exchanged looks of disbelief.

“Twenty thousand dollars!” someone shouted from the right side of the auditorium.

Bianca and Debra rose to peer through the crowd.

“Is that…?” Debra began.

“Yes, that it is,” Bianca replied.

Sheyna gave them a curious look. “Who is that?”

Bianca shared a grin with Debra before saying, “That is Amirah Allen. She owns the new boutique, Peek-a-Boo.” The dark-skinned beauty was still wearing the seductive black mask with her lips painted a fire engine red.

“Any further bids?” The auctioneer glanced around the room while women accepted defeat and lowered onto their seats. “Going once…going twice…sold to the beauty in black.”

“Wow!” Danica said with a rush of air.

Bianca nodded. “Yes, you can say that again.”

London shifted the Hummer into Park, rushed up the driveway to the blue-painted door, and pounded his fist against it. He barely allowed two seconds to pass before he was beating again. “Mona Lisa, you in there? Open up, otherwise, I’m coming in!”

He reached inside his pocket for the ring of keys when he heard soft footsteps. The lock turned, and the door opened slowly. He looked down at his niece. “Hi, Gabriella. Where’s your mother?”

With a solemn look on her face, she pointed toward the rear of the house. London hurried through the living room and headed through a modest-sized kitchen toward the main bedroom. Stuff was everywhere. Dishes were on the floor, and breakables were smashed. He stepped over broken glass in the kitchen and kept moving until he reached the rear of the house. The bedroom door was slightly ajar. London pushed on it softly and stepped inside to find Mona Lisa sitting on the edge of the bed near her nightstand.

“Mona Lisa?” he said softly as his eyes scanned the room. Dresser drawers had been flung open, the mirror on the wall had been smashed, and shoes were everywhere. “Mona,” he said, and he moved closer. Her head hung low, and he made his way over and took a seat beside her. “Mona Lisa…, Sis…, I’m here,” he said and put a hand on her arm and squeezed it comfortingly. She slowly raised her head, and he immediately saw her eyes were red and swollen. And her top lip was split and bruised.

“What the hell…,” he drew a breath. “Where is that bastard?”

“Calm down,” she whispered. “It’s not worth it.”

It is worth it.

London cupped her chin and tilted her head so that he could take a closer look. “Where the hell is he?”

“He left,” she said before pulling away from his grasp.

So many angry thoughts hovered in his head, but he held it together…barely. “What happened?”

Mona Lisa looked down, almost too ashamed to have him see her this way as she spoke. “He was upset I wouldn’t let him have any more money. When I refused, he went crazy.”

London allowed a hiss to slip from between his teeth. “Crazy? I’m going to show him crazy.”

She shook her head. “He’s sick, London.”

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