Tarnished Love by Bianca Borell
CHLOE
I can’t contain my smile as I take the elevator to visit Damien. I catch myself daydreaming about Filip. When I exit my phone chimes. It’s him, and my heart flutters.
“I heard that my girlfriend is here from the men whispering in the bathroom.”
“Jealous?”
“I wanted to punch them.”
“You would have broken your precious, elegant fingers for me?”
“Chloe,” he whines, and I keep smiling after we hang up.
“You look happy,” Damien says, and I sit on the couch. I want to tell him, but the misery he wears every time we meet stops me. Not even Filip can convince me, but I won’t brag about my happiness when my best friend barely keeps himself together.
“Cut the crap already.” He has to since Monica takes it to a new level, everyone knows they are together. He waves me off, adding more to my worry. Damien always had a remark to throw, now it’s as if he’s accepting of whatever this is.
“I’ll be back in a few days.”
“Yes, you start the photoshoot for Filip’s campaign.”
I can’t wait to go to Filip afterward. I rise to my feet, and bend to kiss him on the cheek. When I reach the door, I falter when Damien says, “Thank you for being my friend.”
His words hit me hard, my heart races in my chest, but I have no time to dwell when I reach Filip’s department. When he sees me, he jumps to his feet and prowls toward me. I giggle as he swings me around, kissing me. I love him, I do.
When he places me down, his hands trail down my arms.
“I have a surprise for you.”
“The meaning of surprise is for me not to know it’s even a surprise.” His eyebrows draw in confusion.
“But you still don’t know what it is.”
“Okay, yes, you might have a point.”
His eyes stay focused on my lips, and tingles erupt on my skin. He cups my face and glues our foreheads together.
“I am happy. Thank you.”
First Damien, now him. What did I do? I smile while he kisses me and my world spins in the carousel Filip commands.
The mischief is written all over his expression when he locks his door and looks at me. I gulp as he strides toward me, lifts me up, and places me on his desk.
“I have dreamt about this very moment.” He slips my blouse off me, and I wiggle to get out of my jeans. He unhooks my bra and peels my thong down, sizing me up. Goosebumps erupt all over my skin before he rushes to unzip, taking himself out, entering me.
“You’re always wet for me.” Heat and praise mingle in his words. I am, to my bewilderment, he just has to look at me, and my body reacts. I bite down on my moan as his hands grip my ass, and he fucks me. The intensity never wavers, him and I together only increase in intensity, scaring me, also elevating me to the purest form of happiness.
When we come down from our high, I drop my head onto his chest, while he caresses my back.
“I want to make a difference.”
His eyes focus on me in seriousness.
“I make a lot of money as a supermodel. And being in this campaign too. I want to start a foundation.”
“For what?”
“For orphans.” His eyes shine with compassion, and he tucks a strand of my hair. A ball of emotions settles in my throat.
“That would be great.”
“But I know nothing about . . .”
“I will put you in contact with the right people.”
“Thank you.”
He takes my mouth in his.
“Every day, I want more with you, from you.”
A shiver rocks me, it’s the intensity and the sincerity of his words that strike the chords to my heart.
Don’t hurt me, Filip, let us just love each other. Our love is beautiful, I hope it always stays like this.
***
“I am finished packing.”
“I’ll miss you,” Anabelle says and sighs.
“Can’t you take three days off from work and visit me?”
“You know what, I am booking my flight.” As a top manager of one of the most prestigious hotels in London, she is seldom home, and I miss her terribly.
Anabelle goes with me to my shoot, and afterward we stroll through the city.
“I want you to meet him.”
“I am sorry I haven’t had time, but . . .”
“You’re busy. No reason to apologize.”
“You’re happy, Chloe. I am happy for you.”
“What about you?”
“I work around the clock.”
“Still in a relationship with Mr. Rabbit?” She elbows me, and I smile. I wish we could see each other more, but as her phone rings nonstop it’s merely wishing.
***
We end up in my hotel room, sharing a chocolate ice cream.
“Start talking,” she says, her eyebrows arched.
“His name is Filip.”
I chew my bottom lip, staring at my fingers. I am nervous, why am I nervous?
“Chloe.” Amusement rolls from her tongue and I tilt my head to her. “This is me, your best friend since kindergarten. I can’t believe a man has you like this.”
“Like what?” I whisper.
“Nervous.”
I sigh and pick at my nails. She smacks my hand away, and I add, “His name is Filip, Filip du Mont.” I stare at her as her eyes widen in surprise.
“You can’t stand him.” A trace of incredulity seeps through her voice.
“No, I couldn’t stand him because he always got under my skin. Not that he stopped doing so, but now it’s different.”
“This is why I haven’t met him until now?”
“To be honest, we kind of had something casual going on, and then we split and came back together . . . it’s complicated.”
She blinks at me and tilts her head to the side.
“I like him.” I bite down on my lower lip and fidget with my hands.
“You more than like him.”
I nod, somehow my emotions too strong to put them into words. My phone chimes, his name flashing, but I decline it.
“We’re trying to see where this goes.”
“He has as much money as Damien, I guess, and you have always been intimidated by his wealth.”
“It’s not like that with him, I don’t feel beneath him, or under pressure.”
“You never should have in the first place.”
“It helps with making so much money I didn’t even think was possible.”
“Does Damien know?”
“Not giving up on the idea of us?”
“So, if Damien has an epiphany right now?”
It’s strange how my heart doesn’t race in my chest anymore at the fantasy. I smile and shake my head.
“I love him, but I need him more as a friend. It’s the same for him. Let me show you a picture of him.”
“No, I am fine. I want the whole surprise thing.”
I rest my head on her shoulder, and she pats my hand.
“Life, huh?”
“We always dreamt of being independent. Now, we are, and the only thing we don’t have as much of is time.”
***
Melancholy washes over me as Anabelle leaves, a trolley rolling behind her. She doesn’t look back. I like that about her, just out front, but it’s not life happening from back to front.
I pack my things and call Filip. He answers with a grumble, and I remember I declined his phone call last night.
“I called to ask about my needy boyfriend.”
He chuckles. “Hmm, now what kind of woman would want a needy guy?”
“The needy kind as well,” I retort, and the deep sounds of his laughter set my stomach aflutter with butterflies flapping their wings incessantly.
“And if he’s good, I might give him the photos from the shoot.”
“That was implied.”
“Was it?”
“Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“I was with Anabelle.”
“The mysterious friend.”
“Newsflash, she exists.”
“I hope so, because you should have gotten over imaginary friends by age seven.” I burst into laughter.
“Did you?”
“We grew up as a team of four, at times I just wanted alone time, but no.”
“Oh, you poor, poor baby.”
“You like this, don’t you?”
“Tremendously.”
“When are you heading back?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I’ll pick you up, and I want you to meet my best friends.”
“I know them . . .”
***
I love the fact he wants to introduce me as his girlfriend. I still can’t believe it. My good mood plummets when my calendar reminds me of my monthly call to my parents.
“Hi, Mother.”
“Chloe, it’s lunchtime. I hope this is important.”
“No, just wanted to say hi.”
“Well, you said hi.”
“I am on the cover of Vogue.”
“I would have been there too if I didn’t get pregnant with you.” It still hurts. I sigh, her words will always hurt me.
“Okay. Bye.”
“Yes, yes, some of us have work to do instead of being some rich man’s doll and traveling the world as a pseudo-model.” I throw my phone on the bed. Why am I doing this to myself? I slump in my bed and call my dad.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Chloe?” I am his only child as far as I know.
“Yes, it’s me.”
“I am having brunch with some friends. How are you?”
“I made the cover of Vogue.”
“Yes, everybody should use what they have.” I shut my eyes, breathing through the pain.
“I was just telling my friends about you. I will celebrate my sixtieth birthday on my friend’s yacht. I’ll email the details. Bring some model friends with you.”
“Dad, I don’t think so.”
“Don’t be ungrateful. I expect you to be there.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Best in your case is never enough.”
I shiver by the end of the call and fold myself onto the bed. I end up missing my flight and my phone keeps ringing. Will the hurt ever go away?
