Loving Dasia

by Ana'Gia Wright

Genres: African American; African American Urban; African American Women's Fiction

Synopsis

Left at the altar by the love of her life, Dasia Warrington contemplates her next move. Fed up with men and near depression, a chance meeting with a man in her honeymoon hotel is not exactly what she has in mind, but with very little money and no place to live, an offer of a roof over her head is hard to turn down. Meeting the beautiful Dasia is a wake-up call to real estate tycoon Grimarious Guatreaux. Aside from the hurt from his last relationship, G has a family secret that sometimes puts his life at risk. But something about this woman makes him want to take a chance on a relationship once again. As their romance blossoms and G moves Dasia into his mansion, things become complicated. G wants nothing more than to protect Dasia and make her happy, but now his secret life is a threat to both of them. Dasia begins an investigation, and learns of her man's dangerous double life. If both of them make it out of this alive, there just might be a chance at happily ever after.

Release date: February 25, 2014

Publisher: Urban Renaissance

Print pages: 304

Sample

Growing up, Dasia hated summer days in Atlanta. Since she was a child, the muggy air clung to her clothes and pressed on her lungs. On this day, her feelings for this place were different. She didn’t feel the same hatred for the heat she’d felt all of those years. It wasn’t because she was accustomed to it, but because of the significance of the day.

She’d escaped the heat for a number of years, following her high school sweetheart to a college in the freezing north, but she’d decided years ago she wanted her wedding to be here, in her hometown. So on this beautiful day, beneath the clarity of the sky, in the midst of nature, she was here to celebrate the most wonderful of days.

The weather in Atlanta couldn’t have been more perfect. The sky was blue, and there wasn’t a rain cloud in sight as a light breeze skipped through the hundred-yearold oak trees in one of the many city parks. It was still early, so the heat was tolerable. She’d planned a sunrise wedding specifically for that purpose.

Today being a special day, Dasia took the time to pay attention to the little things that made life so wonderful. From the limousine, she watched a squirrel chase another around one of the trees lining the main street.

Dasia was glad and relieved to be here. For weeks she’d fought with her soon-to-be mother-in-law to have her wedding here. Her fiancé’s mother had nearly insisted the wedding be in New Orleans, their hometown. Mama Delpriore tried to convince Dasia that a New Orleans wedding could be just as nice as an Atlanta wedding, but Dasia wasn’t hearing it. She’d allowed Jeremiah’s mother to take over the wedding planning, to try to keep the peace; however, the location of the wedding was non-negotiable.

Dasia knew what the arguments over the wedding plans were really about. She knew good and well Jeremiah’s mother really didn’t like her. Mama Delpriore thought her son was much too good for the likes of her. He was, after all, the youngest son of a long line of old money.

As far as Mama Delpriore was concerned, Jeremiah should be marrying someone in the same elitist class as himself. No matter about attraction or love. Money, status, and family honor were what kept the Delpriore family name in the ranks of the rich, something Mama Delpriore never let Dasia forget.

Dasia had come to terms with the elder Delpriore’s opinion of her. She wasn’t marrying Mama Delpriore, she was marrying her son. He’d made the decision to commit his life to her, and that was all that was important.

She didn’t care if his family had to drive eight hours from New Orleans to Atlanta to see the family’s favorite child, Jeremiah Jamal Delpriore, get married. She’d made sacrifices over the years for his family. Now it was time for them to make some sacrifices for her.

And if they thought having the wedding in Atlanta was bad, Dasia knew they were going to have a fit when they found out Jeremiah had made plans to make a permanent move. He’d already arranged to transfer his job here.

They’d already found the perfect house, and Jeremiah immediately secured a contract on it. Dasia planned to stay in New Orleans for the two weeks she’d taken off work, and by the time their honeymoon vacation ended, they’d be moving into their new home and starting their lives together as Mr. and Mrs. Delpriore.

Dasia greatly anticipated the end of today. Once the wedding was officially over, she planned on snuggling up with her new hubby and consummating their marriage. She squelched her nervousness. Saving herself for her wedding day had been her dream, and she was proud Jeremiah would be her first.

It was Dasia’s wedding day, rain or shine. Only the word perfect described her feeling of the day. She’d prayed on it, leaving her worries and nervousness in the hands of the Lord. Worrying dropped from her vocabulary on this glorious day. Her life was finally coming together, and the moment Jeremiah said I do, it’d be complete.

One by one her bridesmaids exited the limousine, the groomsmen escorting them to the front of the tent. As the sun peaked over the trees, Dasia’s moment to walk down the aisle arrived.

Her father looked over to her, his pride showing through his smile. He’d never been prouder of his daughter. She had a successful career, she carried herself like the woman he’d raised her to be, and in a few minutes she’d have the husband of her dreams.

Initially, Wesley and Marilyn Warrington disliked the idea of Dasia getting involved with Jeremiah. Her father always thought he had ulterior motives. The reputation of the Delpriore children preceded them, and from the stories he’d heard over the years, Jeremiah was no different. Each of the Delpriore males had married women because it was the proper thing to do. Where they came from, a trophy wife reflected stature, and looks didn’t always define the trophy. A pretty face with a loud mouth was a definite no-no, while sometimes the less attractive, submissive type fit the bill perfectly.

Wesley recalled the day Jeremiah asked to marry Dasia. The man’s sincerity touched him, changing his opinion. Jeremiah swore that day that he’d take care of Dasia; that she wouldn’t want for anything in the world. He’d promised that she’d live a lavish lifestyle fit for the queen she was.

Dasia’s mother was elated. Marilyn Warrington fought for years to lift her family into the circles of the elite. She’d lived in poverty most of her childhood, something that she never wanted to return to, so she’d married into a little money then brown-nosed her way into some of the most influential organizations in all of the cities her husband dragged her family to.

Now though, Dasia afforded her the opportunity that she hadn’t been able to achieve. They’d lived well, but not on the level that the Delpriore family could elevate them to. Who’d have known that the fat little dark-skinned kid she’d spent so many years grooming would be the key to the big bucks?

“You ready, baby girl?”

Dasia turned sure eyes to her father, glad for his support. “Yes, Dad. I’m ready.” She’d waited all of her life for this day and didn’t want to wait another minute.

They exited the limousine as the wedding march began to play. Dasia took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Pasting a smile on her face, she walked calmly and surely down the aisle with her father. Her smile grew as her eyes locked with the man whom she’d loved from afar for so many years before he’d actually approached her. That was all in the past. Today was real, this moment was real, and this was all she wanted to think about.

Standing at the altar, her hands intertwined with Jeremiah’s, a sense of peace filled Dasia. Beautiful weather, everyone made it to the ceremony safely, and she was about to exchange vows with the man she’d decided years ago would be her husband. What more could a woman ask for? Things were as perfect as she thought they’d ever been.

Dasia smothered an inkling of anxiety as the preacher began the vows.

“Jeremiah Jamal Delpriore, will you have Dasia Makalia Warrington to be your wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony, will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”

Jeremiah looked down at Dasia. She’d loved him from day one. He’d never worried about her cheating on him. In their six years together, she’d only offered him peace and happiness. He’d done so many things wrong by her, and yet she’d stood by his side.

Today he’d add to that list of wrongs. In his mind though, this was the right thing to do. This was one thing he couldn’t do to her. He looked over at her best friend, the one who’d stood beside her through all he’d put her through, and he knew what he had to do.

“Dasia, you’ve been by my side through some terrible times, and I know I’ve caused you more pain than any woman should ever have to endure. That’s why I have to be honest with you. I love you, but I’m in love with Monica. She’s the one I want to be with. She’s the one I want to marry.”

A gasp from friends and family interrupted Dasia’s peace. And had she not known better, she would have sworn she heard a snicker and sigh from Jeremiah’s mother. For a moment, Dasia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She stared at Jeremiah, unable to speak or move. Her mind refused to comprehend what was going on. Though very clear on the words Jeremiah had just said, something inside of her couldn’t believe this was happening.

With disbelief, she turned to the woman who she’d thought was her best friend. Dasia didn’t recall slapping Monica, but the throbbing in her hand drew her attention. No denying it. Glancing down at her red palm and then back up at Monica holding her cheek, Dasia knew what she’d done.

She turned back to Jeremiah and stared him down, daring him to go to Monica’s aid. Fear. Exactly what Dasia wanted to see. Good that he thought better of helping her, since she got what she deserved.

Dasia took a deep breath. Then an eerie calm washed over her. No point in it now. Too hurt, too tired, just too everything. She didn’t know how, she didn’t know why, but somehow she had to just walk away from all of this.

“You know what, you can have your cake, but you can’t eat it too. Marry her. See if I give a damn.” Dasia turned and made her way past the rows of occupied seats to the waiting limousine.

Dasia’s father stood, trying to decide whether to follow his daughter or to have a little discussion with Jeremiah. As much as he wanted to hurt Jeremiah, Wesley controlled his temper, taking care to stay between his wife and Jeremiah. Dasia needed time, so he approached Jeremiah, who now took the time to comfort Monica.

“What goes around comes around. What you’ve done to my daughter all of these years will come back to you threefold. That goes for the both of you. Heed my warning. You will reap what you’ve sown.”

Jeremiah stared at the old man.

Then Wesley turned to his wife. He saw the embarrassment in her eyes. Her dreams of schmoozing with the high class had just been crushed. He grasped her by the hand and led her away from the gawking eyes. He would first tend to his wife, and then venture out in search of his daughter.

G tried to ignore the sobs coming from the suite next to his. Nevertheless the woman ventured out onto the balcony of her suite, and the sounds of sorrow stuck in his mind like the annoying song that never ends. He tried to lose himself in the newspaper, but glancing over, he observed her getting closer to the edge of the balcony.

Concerned for her safety, G folded the partially read newspaper and walked to the edge of his balcony. He wanted a closer look at the young woman. “Excuse me, young lady, are you all right?”

He’d heard her wails earlier in the night but decided that what was going on in the suite next to his was really none of his business. He’d retreated to the balcony to escape the agonizing cries, and yet, as if fate had played an ace card, she’d followed him into the solitude of the night. For some reason, the universe was pushing him to help this young woman, who seemed in so much distress.

Dasia wiped the tears from her cheeks, trying desperately to hide her despair. She only succeeded in smearing mascara all over her face. She laughed at her former best friend’s voice as it echoed through her mind—“Make sure you wear waterproof mascara.”

She turned to face the stranger on the balcony in the suite next to hers. The sun had set hours ago, and the waning moon offered very little light for her to see his face in the shadows. “What did you say?”

“I don’t mean to pry, but you are the saddest bride I have ever seen.”

Dasia stared out into the night sky, not wanting to look at her neighbor when she said the words. She was hoping this was all a dream, but the nearly empty bottle of champagne in her hand and the white wedding dress she still wore were reminders that this was all real and it was all happening to her.

“You’d be sad too if the only person you ever loved dumped you at the altar for your best friend.”

“Ouch! That had to hurt.”

“Who you tellin’?”

“Look, this may be inappropriate, considering you don’t know me, but if you want to talk, I’m willing to listen.”

“You’re right, it is inappropriate.” Dasia closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly released it. “No, wait.” She looked over at him and then back at the bottle of champagne before continuing. “That was the alcohol talking. I do sort of feel like talking.”

“Well, you’re welcome to come over, or I can meet you outside of the door and we can go somewhere to talk. I would say we could get a drink, but I think you’ve had enough. Don’t you?”

Dasia took one final swig from the bottle and dropped it to the ground. As it shattered in a million pieces, she took one last look at her white wedding dress and shoes, her pristine nails, the diamond tennis bracelet that had been a gift from the one man she’d ever given her heart and soul to, and she wanted to cry again.

G watched her as the reality of her situation sank in once again. “Please don’t cry. I hate to see a woman cry.”

Dasia looked back at him, her eyes bloodshot and glassy, her once-perfect makeup now a mess. “Give me a few minutes to clean up, and I’ll come over.”

“Agreed. By the way, I’m Grimarious, but my friends call me G.”

“Dasia Delpriore.” Dang! She had to remind herself that her name wasn’t Delpriore. “I mean, Warrington.”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’ll leave the door open. Just come in.”

Dasia, not quite sure she should be going to a strange man’s suite in the middle of the night, especially after the day she’d had, looked at G, but he seemed nice enough. He showed a genuine concern about what was going on with her. Besides, she really didn’t have anything to lose. All that had become important to her had just been taken, and she could back out if she came to her senses while cleaning up.

“Okay.” She stepped back into her suite and closed the sliding glass door behind her.

Raccoon eyes stared back at Dasia in the wall-length hotel mirror. She wrapped her arms around her size eight waist. She’d starved her body and exercised for months to make sure she could fit into her wedding dress. She’d abused her body, and had allowed Jeremiah to abuse her mind and spirit for far too many years.

The sad thing was, in the back of her mind, she knew he’d do this to her. She knew in the end that all of the years of putting up with his cheating, deception, and manipulation would come down to this day. Whether he thought he loved her or not, he’d never commit to spending the rest of his life with a woman who, in another month or so, would be back to her normal size fourteen.

Standing in front of the mirror, looking at what loving Jeremiah had done to her, Dasia made the hardest decision she’d ever had to make. She didn’t need anyone to convince her of what she had to do. In the next moment she said the words that would release any hold Jeremiah might still have had on her spirit.

“Jeremiah Jamal Delpriore, I will never again love you.”

Then she repeated the affirmation, drilling the promise into her mind and her heart for all eternity, before slowly peeling the wedding dress from her body and stepping into the shower, where she took her time washing away the past, making sure every pore, and crevice was free.

When she emerged from the steaming bathroom, she dressed, grabbed her purse and hotel key, and headed to the suite next door.

She stared at the glow coming from the space between the door and the floor. As promised, G had left the door cracked. She hesitated, having the slightest change of heart.

In the end, though, she needed to talk to someone. Too embarrassed to talk to any of her friends or family, she figured she’d get it all out to a perfect stranger and she’d never see this guy again.

The creaking of the hotel door startled G. He had started to worry about Dasia after thirty minutes. He was just about to get up and go check on her when the sound of the door signaled her arrival.

“I’m back here on the balcony.”

Dasia followed the sound of his voice past the separate bedroom with the kinGsized bed, the biGscreen television, and kitchenette that were identical to the ones in her suite.

As she stepped out onto the balcony, G greeted her with a smile. “Feel better?” he asked.

“Believe it or not, I do.”

“So, do you want to stay here or go somewhere else?”

Dasia stared out into the night sky and replied, “I think I’d like to stay here . . . that’s if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Have a seat.”

Dasia made herself comfortable in the patio chair. She stared at the man sitting across from her. She wanted to ask about his heritage. She wasn’t sure if he was white, black, or a mix of the two. She fought the urge to reach out and run her hands through the curls perched on top of his head. She’d detected a slight accent but couldn’t quite place it. She thought about asking him later. Right now though, she needed to get all of this mess off of her chest.

“You know, I still can’t believe he waited to get to the altar to confess his undying love for that heifer.”

“I get the feeling you were expecting something to go wrong.”

“Yeah, I was. And, boy, did it. I mean, how inconsiderate was that? Why couldn’t he have just said something before we got to the altar? Or maybe I was just the stupid one. Why didn’t I j. . .