Til Death Do Us Trope (Tropes 1)

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” I say, and elbow his side.

I nudge my thick-framed glasses back up my nose and try not to trip as I make my way over to one of the tables with dirty dishes all over it. I hear the auction announcer say something and the crowd cheers, but I ignore it. It’s not like it’s any of my business. Right now my focus is to get these dishes to the kitchen and then clock out. I’m only allowed to have so many hours and my manager won’t pay overtime. Since I picked up a double shift yesterday I’m only allowed short hours until tomorrow. I guess I’ve got time to grab a sneaky plate of leftover food from the back and go home for some Netflix.

My life might be a tad boring, maybe even unexciting from the outside. But I don’t let it get me down. I’m sure one day it will all change.

Chapter 2

Jericho

“What have I done?” I clench my fists and try to remember why I’m doing this in the first place. What man in their right mind would agree to auctioning himself off for charity? Even though Sick Kids with Sick Pets is an admirable charity, the thought of selling myself makes me feel cheap.

All my life I’ve been too busy making money to find someone to love. Seeing my brother Romeo with his wife and baby has sparked something inside me. I want what they have and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to find that. Even if it means putting myself up for sale.

“Tonight we have none other than Jericho Trope!” the announcer says over the microphone and the crowd goes wild. It’s like a sporting event and I’m the ball that’s being tossed around. Hopefully the person that finally helps me score is someone I can spend my life with. What better way to find your soulmate than to let someone prove it with their wallet. Right?

Maybe I should have told my brother about the auction just in case. But this will probably all work out fantastically if my family history has anything to say about it. Sure, it’s filled with ridiculous drama, but that’s the spice of life.

The drumroll begins and I push through the curtains and walk out onto the stage. The lights are bright and I blink a few times, letting them adjust. I walk to the end of the stage and adjust my tuxedo. It’s perfectly fitted because it’s custom made, like all my clothes. It’s hard to be a billionaire and not have these things. They’re kind of expected.

“Welcome, Jericho,” the announcer says. “Tonight we are going to start the bidding at three hundred thousand dollars. And remember, it’s all for a good cause.”

She strikes her gavel and the shouting of bids begins. There are even a few women who throw bills on the stage. I try not to look at them. I stand still and stare straight ahead waiting for the moment to be over. If all the romance stories I’ve heard are correct, this will end with me finding the love of my life. My face is impassive as I imagine who will win me and give me my happily ever after.

While I try to ignore some of the filthy remarks being made about my body and what my abilities consist of, my eye catches something in the distance.

I spot a woman clearing dishes off a table at the back of the room. She’s got dark hair knotted up on the top of her head, and dark-framed glasses. From this distance, I can only make out her shape, but dear god, I want those curves pressed against me. Never before have I looked at a woman and wanted her. Every cell in my body is firing and I’m being pulled in her direction. I want to jump down off the stage and part the crowd like the sea so I can get to her faster. But the auctioneer is shouting into the microphone, reminding me that I’m stuck here.

My pulse races as I watch her trip over her feet a few times before she turns her back on me. Fuck, what if she leaves and I can’t find her? My heart is pounding as I scan the crowd and spot my brother Romeo off to the side.

“One billion dollars!” he shouts as we lock eyes. For a moment we have a silent exchange and he nods at me. He knows exactly what I’m feeling and he’s giving me the go-ahead. He’s going to take care of all of this.

“Sold!” I hear shouted, and instantly I jump down off the stage. I push my way through the crowd and from somewhere behind me I hear people groan and clap.

I don’t have time to give them a second thought because as the crowd swarms me, I catch a glimpse of my woman leaving.

“No!” I try to shout over the crowd, but it’s too late. She disappears out a side door and I’m too far away from her. “Damn it.”

“Mr. Trope, if we could just have a moment of your time,” a paparazzo asks, shoving a microphone in my face.

I elbow the guy out of the way and try to break through the mob of people. I turn around looking for Romeo, but I see he’s already left with Arabella. Good for him. This place has suddenly become a madhouse.

“This way, Mr. Trope,” a voice says, and I feel someone pull my arm. It’s in the wrong direction, but I see a break in the crowd.

When we get through, I see a side door and I make my way through it with the person who saved me. The door slams closed behind me and I turn around to see a young man holding it closed.

“Thank you.” I glance down at his name tag and nod to it. “Butch.”

“You’re welcome. Your brother slipped me some cash on his way out to make sure you got where you needed to go.”

I run my fingers through my hair in frustration. “Where I need to be is on the other side of that room.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible at the moment.” Just then more people beat on the door wanting to talk to me.

“Is there a back way out of here?” I growl as I look around the room. “I’ve got to get to her.”

“Who?” Butch asks, as he pushes against the door to hold it closed.

“The one,” I say, feeling frustration rise once again. “The dark-haired beauty who was cleaning tables.”

“Cookie?” he asks.

“It’s no time for snacks, you fool! I’m trying to find the woman of my dreams!”

“No, that’s her name. Cookie. She was cleaning tables before she left.”

I run over to him and grip his shirt with both hands, pulling him close. “How do you know her?” I demand, feeling anxious that she might already be taken. I immediately push that thought out of my head, because I would never allow a man to stand in the way of what I want.

“Calm down. She’s my friend.” He looks me up and down. “You’re more my type then she is.”

“I don’t have time for riddles,” I say, stepping back and taking a breath. “I just need to find her. She’s the one. I’m sure of it. Tell me how to find her.”

“She probably just went home. She’s not one for going out, and we live together.” He reaches inside his pants and pulls out a key, tossing it to me. “I’d like to think if a billionaire was after me, she’d give him directions.”

After that he texts me her name and number, with an address to their place.

“You’ve been really helpful. How can I repay you?” I ask, putting all the info into my phone and checking my watch.

“Just make sure you’re good to her,” he says, nodding solemnly. “And if you’ve got a single brother, send him my way.”

“I can’t help you with a date, but I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” I send a text to my assistant to wire him a few million, and call it even. “Now, how do I get out of here undetected?”

Butch looks around the room. “I think this air vent leads out to the alley in the back. I’ll create a distraction and you can escape that way.”

I reach out, shaking his hand and thanking him again for helping me.

“Just make sure when you find Cookie that you treat her right. She’s…” He pauses, thinking on something. “She’s pretty innocent.”

“I’ll never hurt her,” I vow, and turn to make my way out of the room.

I climb up some crates against the back wall and open the metal vent. I turn back and nod to Butch one last time before I pull myself up and climb through the dark tunnel.

From behind me, I hear him close the grate and then shout. “Fire!”

Chapter 3

Cookie