Love, Chloe - Alessandra Torre Page 0,31
me in their exit, and I still stared down at those letters.
Seen anything?
C9. C9. C9
Carter lived in C9. Not that I’d been thinking about it. But I couldn’t stop imagining the what ifs. Especially when I was alone in bed, my body lonely, my hands wandering, my cool sheets sensual in their brush against my skin. What if he knocked on my door? What if I was in bed, like this, just waiting? What if … I rolled over in bed and pulled my blanket over my head.
C9. It was one floor and three doors away. I didn’t know how long I could fight against it. I swore his damn apartment was calling my name.
29. How to Lie Without Lying
I zipped up the front of Chanel’s coat, buttoning the top button and adjusting the hood, her tiny tongue darting out and catching my wrist. I smiled at her, picking up her tiny body and heard his voice. “Chloe.”
I set down Chloe in her travel bag, taking my time before I turned to face him, trying to smile. “Mr. Brantley. Good morning.”
The words came out well. Smooth and casual. Like my heart wasn’t pounding. Like my mind wasn’t racing over what to say when he asked the question that I knew was coming. I’d never responded to his text. I couldn’t think of how to. Finally, after four or five hours had passed, I decided to just ignore it. Because, you know, that always made problems go away.
Clarke stepped into the kitchen, the click of his shoes painful on the polished floor. I held the edge of the counter tighter and leaned against it, trying to think of something to say. The air suddenly felt thick. Hot.
Clarke stopped three feet from me. Close enough I could see the worry in his eyes, the pinch of his forehead, the bits of silver in his dark hair. Silver. He seemed too young for silver, yet too masculine for anything else. I looked at him and couldn’t understand why Nicole would want anything else. How could she kiss Paulo when she had Clarke?
I looked away, reaching for my coffee cup and took a sip, hoping caffeine would help.
“Was I right? Is she…” he paused as if the words caused him pain. Closed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. Dropped his chin for a moment and when he raised it, every feature was hard, his next words dark and low. “Is she … sleeping with Joey Plazen?”
The small bit of coffee in my mouth threatened to spew forward in a Pitch Perfect stream of embarrassment. I clamped my lips shut, swallowed hard to force the coffee down, and it went down the wrong pipe. I coughed, wheezing as I gripped the counter and leaned forward. Clarke moved closer, a concerned look in his eyes, and I waved him off. His sexy hands rubbing my back might be the only thing that could have made my condition worse.
When I finally regained my breath, tears at the corners of my eyes, I tried for composure. “You think she’s sleeping with Joey Plazen? Seriously?”
His eyes darkened. “Don’t protect her.”
“Listen to me.” I squared my shoulders and met his stern gaze head on. “Joey Plazen hates her. I’d never tell Nicole this, but he complains about her to every cast member who will listen. There is absolutely no chance they’re having an affair.”
He yanked out his tie, letting out a heavy sigh. “Are you sure? I thought…” He ran a rough hand through his hair and scratched at the back of his neck, tilting his gaze back to mine. “It’s just…” he continued, “something’s off. And it’s been off before.” He lifted his chin. “In Paris.”
I knew what he was referring to. Five years ago. There’d been rumors, then photos, then footage from the hotel elevator. Nicole had been filming a tiny made-for-TV movie that no one knew about, until her affair with her co-star had made all the gossip sites. Her co-star had been married to a pop music superstar and had publicly begged forgiveness, but Nicole had always vehemently denied the evidence. The story had fizzled out, but the Internet never forgot, the story still popping up in my Google search.
“I swear, nothing’s going on between Joey and Nicole. Nothing.” I emphasized the last word, and his frame relaxed a little.
“Okay.” He wiped a hand over his face and straightened. “Thanks. I’m sorry to even ask.”
“It’s okay.” I smiled, like a good little honest