Tarnished Love by Bianca Borell
FILIP
You made her feel good again, time to stop holding her to you. I try to force myself but it’s like my body has a mind of its own. When I saw her on the brink of a breakdown, instead of getting her out of my home quicker, my heart stuttered in my chest. She digs her claws in deeper with every encounter. Am I stealing her from Damien? He cost me Bria. Is this payback? But as I drop my chin, and she peers at me through her long, curly lashes, I realize what is happening between Chloe and me has nothing to do with him. I am so screwed.
“I am sorry I was a dick.”
“Ah, so you’ll try to do better from now on?” I smile, she always succeeds to drag a smile out of me.
“Stop seeing Damien.”
Her eyebrows draw together, and she asks, “Why?”
“Why? You should thank me for warning you.”
“And who warns me about you?” she counters, and her words punch the air out of my lungs.
“This is not about me.”
“No, here is where you’re wrong. I know where I stand with Damien, but I can’t say the same about you.”
I open my mouth to answer, but she places a finger against my lips and shakes her head.
“If you say it again, I swear, Filip, we’ll be over.” And just like that, I swallow my retort.
“If you fuck anyone, I expect it to be me.” Her eyes widen and I’m as surprised as she is. Take them back, there is still time, but as I contemplate her, from her shiny hair to those mesmerizing emerald eyes and that mouth that I can’t get enough of, down to her perky tits and her silky skin to that pussy I want repeatedly. Never mind those legs I want wrapped around me. I don’t want to take my words back.
“So . . . we . . . you . . . me?” she stammers, and I lift her from the floor and place her on my lap.
“We fuck.”
“Exclusively?”
“Sure you want that? Because I am a greedy bastard,” I retort, and she slaps my chest. A sense of weightlessness, of contentment, and an easiness washes over me. I carry her back to the bed.
“I can just fit the bill.” She giggles, and it shoots straight to both my heart and my cock.
“I mean it, Chloe, no more Damien.”
“We’re just friends,” she answers, and I lift her chin, eyeing her.
“You’ve never . . . ?”
“No, of course not. We’re friends.”
“But I thought . . . He left the impression . . .” And then it hits me, and she says the answer I have on the tip of my tongue.
“Bria.”
“But you never said anything.”
“Why should I? Everybody can make their own judgment, and you were adamant to believe it anyway.” She props on her elbow, all naked, not at all fazed. This woman is dangerous.
“I am tired,” I confess, and she smiles.
“Then sleep, or are you afraid?” The chills she shoots through me with her challenges. I feel so damn alive. A smile parts my mouth, and when I dip my lips to her ear, her breath hitches. I can’t describe how incredible this makes me feel.
“I’ll take the risk.”
“I warned you.”
“Good night, honey,” I say, and her eyes shine, and the muscle in my chest fulfils more than its biological role.
Halfway to falling asleep, she places her head on my shoulder, and I turn around, pressing her to me. Yes, this is nice.
I yank the sheets off, but the heat courses through me. When I peel my eyes open, I realize the warmth comes from her. One hand is placed over my stomach, her front against my back, and even though my first instinct is to push her away, I turn around and stare at her. Her chest rises and falls in soft, regular beats. I pick up a strand of her hair and toss it on her back, to look at her unobstructed.
“Creepy much?” she asks, her eyes still closed, but smiling.
“Just checking if in the light of day the deal is still a good one.” She punches me in my stomach, and I hiss.
“Chloe, that fucking hurt.”
“Really? And here I wanted to caress you. My bad,” she pouts and feigns innocence, and I pin her on the mattress and kiss her. Her nails rake against my back, and I slam inside her with no condom, and I freeze.
“I can pull out.”
“After you’ve been inside me? What happened to ‘I always use a condom’?”
“So?”
“So?”
“Shall we live on the edge?” I smirk at her.
“I am healthy and on the pill.”
“Let’s not jump from having sex without a condom to starting a family.”
“You’re such a prick.” What I am sure is a string of colorful expletives dies on her lips as I thrust in her. “If you give me something, I will murder you.”
“I have regular checkups and my last tests came back negative. I'll put one on if you want me to.” But she clenches around me, and I don’t fucking care. Death by pussy. There are worse ways to go.
***
“Have you ever used your refrigerator? Come on, there is literally nothing in here other than water and milk.”
“I have cereal,” I counter, and she props her hands on her hips. If it were up to me, she would wear just my shirt and my cum inside her.
“I’m hungry.”
“Cereal and milk?”
“Filip, you can’t live off cereal and milk.”
“I eat out a lot, and I moved recently.”
“You consider months as recent?” Her eyes widen, and she purses her lips. I grin.
“Who’s the creep now?”
She flicks a strand of her hair and points her finger at me.
“I overheard Damien once.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Her cheeks turn red, and I stop poking her.
We eat our cereal, and she says, “I should go.”
“Or you could stay.”
Has my brain decided to spit this bullshit? This is turning into a complication I am not sure I want. Scratch that, I know I don’t want at all. Fucking is okay, but that’s all. She leans into me, getting in my face.
“I would have still left, but now I’ll go before you freak out at the thought.”
She places the bowls in the dishwasher and stomps off when I don’t say anything in reply. Not two minutes later, she runs down the stairs and opens the door. What the fuck? Not even a goodbye? I yank open the door to my home while a cab arrives from the corner.
“Goodbye?”
“Fuck you.”
“No, I am pretty sure I want a goodbye, but if you stay, us fucking is also good.” She lifts her hand and flips me off and hops in the cab. She doesn’t even spare me a second glance. I lock my hands around my neck. Why does this not sit well with me at all? I shut the door behind me and plop on the couch and groan. I fucked her twice. That should be enough. Fuck, I don’t even have her phone number, but I know who I can get it from. Yes, I need more of her.
And this is how all men fall.
I press my phone to my ear. He answers on the sixth ring—so typical.
“Filip.”
“Let’s have lunch.”
“It’s morning.”
“Breakfast then.”
“I have work to do.”
Yes, like always, but I need something only you can give me.
“Come on, man.”
“Fine, meet me downtown in half an hour.”
I rush up the stairs, yank the doors to my closet open and pick out a pair of slacks, a shirt, and a blazer.
Ten minutes later, I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, shaking my head. Why the hell am I this nervous? I could just ask him for it, but the dick would say no. My monologue ends when I park next to him. All I know is I am not leaving without her number, not after I learned nothing happened between them.
He is either a saint or a lunatic, and then I think of my sister, and that dreadful mix of hurt, guilt and anger slams into me. I spot him at a table by a window, his face in his phone. Yes, it will be such a fun morning. I clap him on the shoulder, and when he raises a finger and types something, I muffle a groan. I sit on the chair opposite him and gesture for a waiter to bring me a coffee. I sip from my cup, eyeing his damn phone, and if I pull this off, it will be a damn miracle.
“You wanted to meet, so that means you want something.” His eyes fix on me and he leans into the chair. “Filip, do not waste my time. Say it.”
“What if I just want to spend some time with you? We used to.”
“We used to be a lot more, but that was years ago. Now, whenever you call, it’s because you want something.”
“Drop the asshole attitude, I know there is a side of you that is pleasant enough.”
He arches his lips into a half smile, it’s been years I’ve seen him fully smile, or heard him laugh.
“Let’s pretend then.”
“Yes, why don’t we? We learned to pretend before we took our first steps. So let’s pretend to be more than heirs to the same company, wrecked over my sister, and instead still friends.”
“I will always be your friend, Filip.”
“No, you have been a friend to no one in years.” Thunderous silence descends, and he drags a hand down his face.
“What do you want?”
“Fuck, this is not why I came here.” A knot settles in my throat.
“It’s okay to be mad, but it brings no one anything.”
“I hate you when you sound logical.”
“I always sound logical.”
“Yes, you also had a heart back then,” I mumble and take another sip of my coffee.
“Yes, she killed that.”
“Will you ever say her name aloud?”
“Maybe when it doesn't feel like it’s killing me anew.”
My eyes bulge out, and he adds, “Filip, for me, what she did, what she is, what she was, it’s irrelevant, just anger and hurt remain.”
“She doesn’t react.”
“And I won’t rest until she does.” Determination burns in his steel-colored eyes, and I arch an eyebrow.
“This is your goal?” Because it has to work, and she must push through that numbness.
“You should try to stop me, not encourage me. That’s my last resort.”
“It’s between the two of you.”
“Your recent campaign. You did a terrific job,” he says, changing the subject.
“Thank you.” I gulp down the lump of emotions his words caused.
“I need your phone for a second, mine’s dead.” I shut mine off and show him as he scans me.
“Charge it.”
“I have to call Mom, she said it was something Bria related.” And just like that, he slides his phone to me, and I shove aside the guilt. I rise and amble outside and scroll through his phone, and by the time I reach her contact, sweat gathers at my nape. I send myself her number and pretend to talk to my mother. When I return, he snatches his phone and glares at me.
“You lied.”
He’s such a control freak.
“How would you know?”
“Because you didn’t put your mama’s boy mask on.”
“Fuck you, I have manners.” I glare at him, and he leans forward.
“No, you’re the slyest of us all. Do you think I haven’t studied you and my sister? She’s constructed herself a house of cards too.”
“So?”
“My point is everyone should fucking be responsible for his own life.”
“Thank you, we appreciate it. She didn’t answer.”
“Should I check then? Because I don’t want to think you using my phone has anything to do with my friend.”
I say nothing, just drink my coffee and jump to my feet when I finish.
“You haven’t eaten.” He smirks.
“Yes, well, the company sucks.”
He shakes his head at me, and I wave him off and dash away. I avoid meeting with just him, because we can’t pretend as well. When there are others around, you would never sniff even the hint of us not getting along.
***
What is the appropriate waiting time to contact someone, because I skipped that class. My patience has run out, and I call her. When she answers, I stop pacing.
“I hope this is a life-or-death situation, because it’s one a.m.” I check my watch, it is one a.m. A sigh parts my lips, and I slump on the couch, scratching my neck.
“I’ll hang up if you don’t say anything.”
“Casualty.” Her anger seeps through the line, and for the first time since the moment she left until now I smile.
“Fuck you, prick. How did you get my number?”
“From Damien.”
“Damien would have never given you my number.” Touché.
“It’s irrelevant.”
“Why am I even talking to you?”
“Chloe, don’t hang up.”
She hangs up. I redial until I reach her voicemail.
“Prick, I won’t take your calls anymore. Get over it.” I can’t help laughing at her outgoing message while I shoot her a text.
Me: Answer your phone and change that stupid voicemail.
Chloe: Leave me alone.
Me: Alone as in alone forever, or alone as in I should do better?
Chloe: Ugh.
Me: That wasn’t a no.
