THE BILLIONAIRE'S SEXY MUSE

Chapter one. ~CHELSEA NIA DEJA~ My eyes fluttered open and a yawn burst through my lips almost at the same time. I smiled, feeling the sun rays seeping in from the side of my opened window, almost blind my eyes with its harsh beam on my face. With a sigh, I pushed the covers off me and climbed out of bed. My eyes met my bedside wall clock and narrowed down on it. It was just nine o clock. I knelt by the side of my bed and quickly said my words of prayer to God. As soon as I was done, I adjusted the band of my black jogger pants, the one I was currently wearing as I walked toward my bathroom. I threw it open, got my brush, and spread out the paste on it. I got to brushing my teeth while humming to a song I wasn't sure of. My eyes met my reflection in the mirror, admiring my beautiful brown eyes that matched my brown chocolate skin. I patted my hair which I had wrapped a small scarf around last night before going to bed. I smoothened the top of it once I felt the strands of my black frizzy and permed curls pulling out of the band. When I finished brushing, I scooped water into my palm before pouring it into my mouth which I rinsed thoroughly. When I was done, I stretched and kept my things back where they belonged. I moved out of the bathroom suddenly feeling the strange energy from nowhere consume me. I walked toward the fluffy mat at the center of my room where I always lay sometimes when I didn't find my bed or chaise lounger appropriate for me. I kicked my fluffy bunny flip-flops aside as I stepped on the mat suddenly feeling giddy. I moved toward my playlist and went through it. After a quick giddy search, I stopped when I found my pick for the morning. Soon, I had Jennifer Lopez Ain't Your Mama blaring from my stereo. Feeling in the mood to get on someone's nerves, I increased the volume making sure it was to the highest. Then, I started the song all over again as I jumped on my mat. I started to move, shaking my body with each lyric and rhythm, dissecting the song as I moved about my space and just dancing. This is what I always do when I wake up every morning. Dancing was my form of exercise. The only way I knew it was to exercise anyway. ?Ain't going to get me cooking all day, I ain't your mama. Ain't going to do your laundry, I ain't your mama. I ain't your mama. Boy, when are you going to get your act together? I ain't your mama.? I shook, whined, and twisted. I practically crouched down, whining my waist to go along with the song, dancing and moving with no care in the world. I was still dancing when suddenly the door to my room got pulled open with so much aggression and possibly annoyance. Still, it didn't stop me from dancing. If anything, it only motivated me. My elder sister, Sloane matched in with the force of a soldier, eyes blazing fire and a force to her steps as she picked up my remote and paused the song. I stopped dancing and spurned around toward her. “Don't you have anything better to do with your life every morning than to play this stupid music and dance your life away?!” She screamed in my face. I could see the horns at the sides of her head. It was so funny that I couldn't help laughing. I was picturing her as maleficent now. Except that she wasn't as graceful as Maleficent was in the movie. She probably thought I was mocking her which I was and it pissed her off because her brows snapped together and she glared heavily at me. “Don't come into my room and tell me what to do.” I eyed her before going ahead to snatch the remote from her death grip. Poor thing, I mused before I resumed playing the song. And right there with her standing there and glaring hard at me like she wanted to kill me, I whined my waist and danced like it didn't matter that she was there. It didn't matter to me at all. After a few seconds, she groaned in anger and stormed out of my room, making sure to bang the door so loudly that I was sure the hinges were affected now. I laughed loudly, throwing my head back and just laughing. Sloane was amusing to watch especially when she was angry. I always had fun spitting the hell out of her. I stopped the music and walked over to my closet which occupied a large corner of my room, separately. I threw it open and my eyes raked the clothes which mostly consisted of jean shorts, jeans, leggings, skirts, and all of those. I wasn't sure I owned a proper dress there. I rolled my eyes and grabbed a black leather skirt which I was going to pair with a matching black leather jacket. I threw the clothes on the bed before selecting my underwear and lingerie. Then, I moved over to my door and turned the key. No one ever came in here uninvited except my mom but it didn't help to take proper measures. I peeled off my clothes before rushing to the bathroom. I took off the scarf and wore my shower cap before turning off the faucet. Cold water met my skin and hair, making me sigh in contentment. I got to scrubbing and washing while the water poured down on me. When I was done, I dried myself, got creamed, and slipped on my clothes one after the other. I dried my hair with my hair dryer and soon, I was standing in front of my mirror, staring at my reflection in it. I stood tall, at my normal average height. I wasn't too tall and not short either but I could proudly say that I was very beautiful. I adjusted my hair and placed the pin I used in putting it in place to hold down my hair properly. As soon as I was sure I was ready, that was after applying gloss to my lips and adjusting my black leather zipper-heeled boot. I grabbed my keys and walked slowly down the stairs. I could hear the bustling noise and loud chatter coming from the dining room from where I stood. I felt my heart pick up a slow painful beat but I didn't let that deter me as I trailed down the steps toward the dining room. With each step I took closer, the voices became clearer and clearer. Soon, I was walking into the room in my usual nonchalant stride, a small smile playing at the corners of my lips. The table was full just like every Saturday in the Deja household. “Good morning, good morning.” I sang as I pulled back my chair beside my four-year-old nephew, Donald. “Good morning Aunt Chelsea, ” Donald sang as he stuffed toast into his mouth. I smiled and blew him a kiss just before my gaze flickered over to his mother, Rachel. She was my oldest brother's wife, the first son of the Deja household; Princeton. I smiled at her and she glared back at me while muttering incorrigibles beneath her breath. I wasn't even bothered by that. My eyes continued to roam the table from Rachel to Prince who was seated beside her then Junior, my second brother and the second child of the family. He was engaged in a discussion with Princeton, probably about business. Then, there was Sloane next to them. She had her laptop before her, no doubt working. Next to Sloane was my mum and then my dad. I was the one seated next to my dad and he had his eyes fixated on me. I wasn't comfortable with the seating arrangement suddenly. “Can we eat?” My mother, Taylor Deja's voice rang across the room loudly as she ordered us to be silent. Immediately, silence sprang around the room and I rolled my eyes. The housekeeper, May, started to dish my meal and I just sat there and let her while still trying to ignore my father's heavy gaze on me. We began to eat in silence. Even Donald, who could get cheesy, was quiet as he ate, probably noting that this was not the time to talk or make a noise. I noticed someone else staring at me so I glanced up just in time to lock eyes with Junior. I was quick to avert my gaze from his. “Where were you last night?” Father's voice rang out loudest in that pitched drop silence and I felt the strength of his words and how he had asked them; to punch me in the gut. I gulped and sat up, trying to feign nonchalance even though I knew he was talking about me. I just continued eating while trying desperately for the sound of my heart not to be heard. The last thing I wanted them to see was how intimidated I was by all of them. “Where were you last night, Chelsea?” Father Bernard Deja asked as his right hand hit the antique furniture. The contact of his hand with the table had me flinching for a second, completely taken aback by the action. Still, I comported myself and feigned ignorance. “I was out, ” I picked up my glass of freshly made juice and took a sip. “You were out? Where out?” He questioned, no, demanded of me. “At the club, flexing with my girls,” I said without mincing words knowing that he could snap and yell if I didn't just answer at once. “Wasting her life off as always, ” I heard someone say and I knew from that tone and voice that it was Sloane. She snickered before tucking her phone away. Anger rose inside of me and I lost it for a second. “Yeah, and you are the workaholic who goes about screwing her boss for promotions!” I snapped and she gasped, taken aback by my words. She shot out of her seat and matched toward me in no time. Junior whistled while Rachel was quick to cover her son away from me. It stung. “You know what, sweetheart.” Sloane began, seething bitterly. “I do not sleep with my boss or frolic around as you claim because I have a college and a master's degree!” She practically screamed the last words in my face, leaning so close that I felt splashes of her saliva on my skin. “That's enough, Sloane.” My father called her to order and she stepped back and straightened. She pursed her red-painted lips, her braids sweeping over her face before flipping me the middle finger. “Let's all get back to eating, please.” My mum pleaded, watching me and silently pleading with me while Sloane walked back to her seat with her head raised high. I bit back on my lower lip to stop myself from screaming and going after her as I felt my blood boil. A way for her to taunt me to my face. I scoffed, pushed back the chair, and got up from my seat. I grabbed my keys which I had placed on the table earlier and stormed out of the room, making sure to bang the door very loudly. I trembled in anger as I walked toward the garage and unlocked it with the keypad. Once it was opened, I walked in and pulled out my black motorbike. I grabbed the helmet and slipped it on, making sure to adjust it properly. Next, I inserted the key into the keyhole and started the bike. Without thinking twice, I started the ignition and was soon wheeling out of the place into the streets. I felt the breeze on my face and as I rode on, doing what I loved to do on my bike, my anger slowly dissipated.