Tarnished Love by Bianca Borell
CHLOE
When I saw him, I thought I was hallucinating. It’s not fair how he succeeds to take so much room in my heart just for him. He’s in the shower when the room service server brings breakfast. I thank him, and he tips his chin at me in acknowledgement. Will I ever get used to this life? It’s not only the fame and the upgrades my career brought me, but this with Filip, is in a class all its own. I pour milk into the cereal as he strolls out from the bathroom wearing just a towel around his waist, his lean, athletic body. He grins and sits next to me, kissing me before he opens his mouth for me to feed him. A warm feeling assaults my belly as I slide in the spoon, and he moans as if it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten. I smile, because for him it has to be, he loves his cereal. I nibble on a peach. When he’s done, he lifts my fingers and licks the juice from them.
“There’s still plenty more.”
“I like it better off you.” He’s shameless, but also sweet. He has no idea what his coming to New York means to me. I expected he would demand an explanation after I got back, not for him to leave everything behind because he worried. I never had this kind of connection with anyone. Sometimes we need words, a lot of them, and other times we just need the other nearby.
He’s still entitled, bitching nonstop about why we have to walk when we can take a car, the heavy smell of this city, the fact that not even the sun can peer through these giants of steel. It’s funny though.
“What can I do to make it better?”
“Chloe, come on.”
I love to press his buttons, and it’s so easy. Everything in his life is filled with comfort, but if he wants me, there will be times when we do what people do when they have no concierges, or jets, or people catering to them nonstop.
“You like to torment me.” After three hours touring the city, sweat covering our foreheads, I give in.
In a coffee shop, I say, “My bank account hit seven figures. It’s insane.”
“You should hire a good accountant and think of a reliable investment fund.”
“I am still processing things. I can’t believe it, this last year has been crazy.”
“You worked hard for it.”
“I never dreamt it would be like this.”
“Why start something if you don’t believe in it?” His eyebrows draw together in confusion, and I rest my cheek in my palm.
“It’s not that.”
“It is, it’s as if you work for something but don’t think you deserve to make it big.”
Did I just say I like to put him out of his comfort zone, because he does the same to me.
“You don’t understand,” I say, and he leans over the table.
“Of course I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I can’t sympathize. I am rich, not inhumane.”
“It’s a sensitive matter.”
“Why?”
“It’s intimidating to be with someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” He points at his chest, irritation simmering in his eyes.
“Filip, you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t,” he deadpans and I sigh.
“There is rich, and then there is you.”
“For fuck’s sake, do you want me to apologize for my wealth? Chloe, it’s not my job to make you feel secure about yourself. It’s yours. All I can do is to be with you.” He finds my hand on the table and squeezes it, and I roll my eyes at him.
“You’re such a dick.”
“I don’t want to have this conversation again. I am rich, get over it. In some circles you are not too bad off yourself.”
“They will say I am after your money,” I whine, and I shake my head at him not understanding where I come from.
“We’re two boring, scandal free people.”
“Most think I had something going with Damien.”
“I don’t care. We’re in this, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s stop caring what a third party, someone who knows nothing about us, might say.”
“How are you so relaxed about this?”
“Because I am informed when something is to be published before it happens.”
“What?” I ask, shock reverberating in those four letters.
“So, if it’s something I am uncomfortable with, it won’t get published.”
“How can this be?”
“I know the right person.”
“I want to meet this person.”
“You will. Now can we order? I am hungry,” he says and returns to the menu.
We finish eating and stroll back to the hotel. Inside I spot a red sequined dress on the bed.
“What is this for?”
“Broadway tonight.”
What he doesn’t say is it’s a private showing. The entire time I stare more at him than at what happens on the stage. I am still baffled when we leave.
“That was . . .” I try to find words to express the unique experience of a show being performed just for me.
“Okay.”
“Okay? Are you crazy? It would have been as spectacular with others there too.” His eyes narrow at me, incredulity written all over his face.
“I thought you would like it.”
“I loved it.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Who does something like this?”
“For privacy. You always look for paparazzi, I thought this would ease your mind.” He is just being thoughtful. Now I feel bad.
“Just give me a heads-up before you do this again.”
“But it won’t be a surprise anymore.”
“Fine, I’ll get used to it somehow, someday.” He grins at me, implying that there is a future. I want one with him, so I don’t retract my words.
***
I have flown on the corporate jet with Damien, so no wonder the stewardess blinks as she spots us entering. This is what Filip won’t understand. If things between us get more serious, the rumor that Damien and I were an item won’t go away. And the press will paint me as the money hungry model, seducing rich men. I hate it, but he’s right. I know the truth, and that is what counts.
But what will his parents think? I nibble on my thumb when he takes it in his hand and trails kisses over my knuckles.
“You might make the jet explode with your thoughts.”
“I am not the Scarlet Witch.”
“I love bad girls going good.”
“I thought you loved bad girls, period.”
“In bed, always.” I feel my face turning red when Helene arrives with the refreshments. I turn my head to the side, while Filip muffles a chuckle.
“You have no shame.”
“I didn’t see her.”
“You should have, you practically oversee the cabin.”
“No, because I can’t stop looking at you.” The sincerity I sense in his words has me turning my head back toward him.
“I am thinking we should go to the back cabin so I can fuck you in the sky.”
Don’t do it, Chloe. Yes, it has some appeal but rein yourself.
“Let’s do it.”
He grabs my hand and enters a cabin, or rather a bedroom. We crash onto the bed, and two orgasms later, I’m giggling. Why wasn’t this a good idea? I smile while he kisses the corners of my lips.
“Hmm, you did it on purpose.”
“What?” I bat my eyelashes in fake innocence.
“I’ll never fly again without thinking of you, or better said, me in your mouth, in your pussy.”
“Never crossed my mind.”
“Liar,” he whispers.
I doze off, and only when he wakes me up by pecking me on my face do I open my eyes, smiling.
“We’ll land shortly.”
“I like it here,” I purr, and he chuckles.
“Come on. You can sleep when we get home.”
“I love that.”
“What?”
“Home.”
He says nothing while I dress, his eyes following my every move.
