Tarnished Love by Bianca Borell
FILIP
I catch myself grinning in the mirror. The door to my bedroom opens and Soph steps inside, scanning me, and crosses her arms.
“What?”
“Of all the women you could choose,” she admonishes and plops on my bed, her disapproving eyes never leaving mine. I shed my towel and stroll to my closet.
“You have no shame,” she laments.
“Don’t be a prude. You’ve seen my dick since birth.”
“Filip.”
I put on slacks and a shirt and then bow.
“Happy?”
“I am serious.”
“What’s done is done.”
“Fine. I hope now you can stay away.”
Doubtful. There is something about Chloe that intrigues me.
“I know that look,” she says as she flops down, and her back hits the mattress.
“You laid on the used condom.” She shoots upright, stumbling from the bed, dropping on her ass while I hold my stomach, laughter rocking me.
“I hate you,” she whines, and I extend my hand, but she slaps it away and rises on her own, shuddering.
“It’s as if you’ve never seen a used condom.”
She avoids my glance, and my jaw drops.
“You use condoms, don’t you?”
“I have only been with him, and I am on the shot.”
“Soph?”
“I trust him,” she retorts, her eyes ablaze with belief. If he ever fucks up, I’ll kill him myself.
“I hope he deserves it.”
“I love him.” As if I don’t know?
“So going back to London?”
“Yes.”
“Switching places, aren’t you tired?”
“Maybe I like it.”
She rolls her eyes at me, chews on her bottom lip, and asks, “How is Bria?”
“You see her too, why don’t you ask her?”
“Let’s not pretend she is the Bria of old. All we ever talk about is work.”
“Then let it be.”
“Can you?”
I cup my neck and shut my eyes. I can’t, even though I am mad at my sister, at least she’s here.
***
I sway my head from my phone toward the yelling coming from Luisa’s office. I rush over when I detect it’s the high-pitched voice of Monica.
Luisa’s head is bowed down while Monica shouts, “You are so damn useless. I have no idea why he keeps you. Must be pity.”
“Monica,” I bellow, and her head whips to me, her eyes turning from malicious to indifference.
“Filip.”
“Come with me.”
Her jaw ticks, but she follows, and I yank the door open at the first empty room I find.
“What was that?”
“If she had sent him my report, he wouldn’t have spent the night in Davos with Chloe,” she whines. My heart constricts, and I flex my hands. Why am I reacting like this? Am I jealous? I guess she fucked us both in the same weekend.
“You never yell at any employees, are we clear?”
She huffs while I inhale a lungful of air, barely containing my anger at her.
“You will go over there, apologize to her, and if it doesn’t sound genuine, I will tell Damien.” His name always works as she transforms into a sweet, docile person.
“You wouldn’t. You’re my cousin.”
“Monica, if you overstep one more time, I’ll fire you myself.”
“Katherine would never allow it.” She smirks and crosses her arms.
“One of these days this sweet persona mask will slip. Until it does, go apologize.”
She storms off, draws up to her, apologizes, and quickly walks away.
I massage my temples; the headache splitting my brain. Luisa sniffles, and I walk over to her.
“I am sorry. If she ever does that again, let me know, and she’s out.” She lifts her brown, round eyes at me, tears pooled, and offers me a timid smile. Who the hell does Monica think she is?
“I sent him the report.”
“No need to apologize. And don’t doubt yourself. If you weren’t an asset, Damien would have fired you.”
“Thank you,” she says through a hiccup.
***
At a restaurant during my lunch break, I ponder what’s going on with all these emotions inside of me when I overhear a group of women gossip while I order lunch.
“I tell you, she’s the only constant one on his arm.”
“Have you seen that dress on her?”
“She’s a model, and he’s a billionaire. Such a cliché.”
I crane my neck and squint at the phone. Don’t do it, I urge myself as my fingers already type in the gossip site. Damien and Chloe stare back at me, radiant and eye fucking each other, and I slam my hand on the table. All three women snap their heads at me while I rake my fingers through my hair.
Why the fuck does it bother me? I knew from the start, if it were a choice between me and him, she would pick him. But I never considered it to be a problem until I slid between her legs, legs that crossed over my torso caging me to her, her sultry eyes as she came and those bee stung lips. I shake myself out of my mental hard-on and shift in my seat. The physical hard-on still present. I need a diversion, so I text Nico.
Me: Let’s get out tonight.
Nico: I’ll make reservations.
***
I shouldn’t have drunk so much last night I think as I saunter into my office. I’ve barely managed to sit down before someone is rapping at my door.
“Mr. du Mont, when is the new campaign going to be ready?” Luisa asks.
“You’ll have it later today.”
We finished it yesterday, but I always sleep on it and go through it again the next day. It has to be perfect since it’s my name on the cover.
I open my email and find one from Damien in bold red with his demands. When the CEO demands you better answer right away. I squint at the desktop and drop my head back. Come on, we can’t go on like this. Everyone verges on exhaustion. We just opened store number? I’ve lost count, and released our own product line, now what? I’ve got to stop this madness; they are both out of their damn minds. Maybe they don’t have personal lives, but the rest of us do. I storm past my assistant John, and when I am at his door, Luisa shoots up and says, “Miss Taylor is inside.”
I storm inside and falter because it seems I am incapable of holding my emotions together, which fucking frustrates me and because she’s wrapped around his arms, smiling.
“Did I interrupt your fucking now in the office?” She turns her head toward me, piercing me with her eyes, only increasing my anger as I try to keep it concealed.
“Filip,” Damien bellows, and anger simmers inside of me.
When I open my mouth to reply, Chloe intervenes and says, “I better go. Have to pack.”
Where is she going? To a shoot probably. When she passes me, I whisper, “Who fucks better?”
She pauses a moment, but then continues walking. When she’s at the door, she says to Damien, “Thank you.”
“Enjoy, you deserve it.”
When she leaves, I plop on my chair and say, “Getting cozy at the office?”
“What’s your problem, Filip?” he asks and drops in his chair, eyeing me.
“When will the insanity stop?”
“It’s work.”
“No, this is more than work.”
“As long as she delivers, we won’t pause just so you can catch up.” I breathe through my mouth, with every second I reach a new breaking point.
“Not she, her name is Bria.”
“Don’t say her fucking name.”
All the anger I harbor for him vanishes once again, because I am reminded that on the inside he’s wrecked, still hurting. And now I am more mad at Chloe. Why is she so stupid to want a guy like him? He’ll never get over my sister, and because of that, he will make sure we’ll all have a stroke by age forty due to overwork.
“Damien . . .”
“I won’t stop.”
“You made your point. Have you talked to her?”
“We’ll continue the rate of the expansion.”
“Fine,” I mumble and leave him.
***
“Have you seen the new top supermodels list?” Nico asks as he swaggers into my living room. I lift my eyes from my phone to him, the grin on his face piques my interest. I snag his phone, scanning through the list and the pictures as my heart pounds in my chest.
“Damien always taps the best of the best.” Yes, he’s done at least half of them and I am sure the others will follow. So, Chloe’s a supermodel now. The image of her parading that body in sexy lingerie and wearing angel wings makes me hard, and it also makes me mad.
“You’re into her,” he says, laughter bubbling from within him, and I push him away.
“Shut up.”
“Do you share her or . . . ?” I punch him and freeze. She’s turned me into this out-of-control asshole.
“Sorry, man, I am on edge,” I apologize and extend my hand. He hops up and brushes his cheek.
“What the fuck crawled up your ass?”
“Too much work.”
“Bullshit.” Nico has been my friend since kindergarten, and I can’t believe I hit him because of what he said.
