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Chapter 19
Carla
I sit in front of the television in the guest bedroom, sipping on wine and watching something mind-numbing on Netflix when Philippe comes in and takes the remote, shutting it off and standing in front of me. I am in a big tee and panties, the same outfit I have had on for a few days now.
After my display in the living room with Luna, I had gotten so drunk and angry that I had a party of one and destroyed quite a bit of the furniture and accouterments with my heels. If he had called me a bitch and kicked me out, I might have deserved it, but he had given me a free pass I guess since he had made me feel the need to do such a thing.
I had tried to let him take me sightseeing the next morning, but an hour in, and we had been fighting the whole time. I demanded to be taken back and since then our conversations had been stiff. Any progress we had made went down the drain, and could anyone truly blame me? He could easily just choose to marry his secretary instead. Would his family care? Did they even know what their son had done?
She looked like she could easily be Italian or Romanian, though I think I heard him mention she was from the Czech Republic once. Who knows?
I insisted on staying in a guest room because I didn’t think it would be fair to sleep next to him or fuck him when he had fucked Luna before he had fucked me without my knowledge, but I had been punishing both of us for this for days now. I hadn’t gotten to see any more of Munich, which would be worth it even if I want nothing to do with Philippe anymore. But if I am being honest, the biggest reason I am staying away is because I do want him. I want him physically, and while I am not in love with him yet, I am fond of him and his approval, his kindness to me. I miss it, and that’s dangerous when I could get broken because he has a baby on the way with another woman.
“You can’t just sit here and ignore me anymore,” he says to me, and I look up at him, really look at him, in surprise. He doesn’t look like himself at all. He is in more casual clothes, well, casual for him, and his eyes have dark circles around them like he hasn’t been sleeping well. I haven’t seen him pick up any alcohol at all since we’ve been here either. His tone, though, is what gets me the most. He doesn’t sound angry or harsh, he sounds desperate.
I want to say something, but I hold back a little longer to see what he will say or do. I don’t want to give in too easily and get my heart trampled all over.
I didn’t think when I agreed to this engagement that my heart being in it would ever be a possibility, but he has changed my mind in a way I don’t like. It feels like I am out of control, and I can’t let him have that kind of power over me, especially with that woman living right next door and carrying his child. Or what she says is his child anyway. There has still been no proof of paternity, but I am going to demand it as soon as it can be done.
He sits on the edge of the bed and looks tired as he speaks to me in a low tone. “Please, I need you to give me another chance. I made a mistake, a big fucking mistake, Carla. We both know that. And there is nothing I can do now but beg for you to forgive me and to let me try again to make this work between us. Otherwise, we might as well admit defeat and part ways now, which is not something I want. Just because Luna is carrying my child does not mean things have to change with us. I have made it clear to her I will not be canceling our wedding, not unless you tell me to. And if you do, I still will not be with her. I do not care for her like that at all. She has always been only my secretary, and once the baby is born, I will get a new one. We will work this out, you and me.”
I look him over as if there will be some kind of flashing sign over him letting me now if he is being sincere or not. But it’s the risk we all take when we choose to believe, trust, or forgive anyone. We will never know for sure what we are stepping into; a sea of gold or a pile of shit.
“Okay,” I rasp out, not knowing what else I might let slip if I try to say anything else. “Okay, we can try again.”
His mouth turns up just slightly on one end, but he doesn’t give me a full smile. “What do you say to us going out tonight and letting loose? There are many amazing places in Munich that I think you might enjoy.”
Now, he is speaking my language. “Just you and me?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrow playfully at him.
He actually chuckles. “Yes, other than bodyguards stationed outside, just you and me.”
I hop up and go to my bag, but he puts his hand out to stop me.
“If you want to wear something new, there are some clothes for you in the master closet.”
I narrow my eyes at him and wonder what kind of conservative shit I will find, but I follow him into the room across the hall anyway, a room arguably big enough to fit three king-size beds if anyone wanted, and open up the closet that could be a small bedroom in and of itself.
He is right. The inside is stacked with womens’ clothes, and while there are a few more conservative pieces, I find beautiful party dresses at the back along with some strappy designer heels.
I find a tight, lavender dress that is basically just straps and will just barely cover me. It is skin tight as I slip it over me, and I notice Philippe’s approving nod. I pair it with silver heels before retiring to the bathroom to do my hair and makeup. Maybe I can teach him to have just a little fun tonight, and it will only be with me. Well, maybe only with me. We will see how far I can get him to go.
But it certainly won’t involve some secretary.
***
“I am going to go get us some drinks, be right back,” Philippe says into my ear, leaving me on the dancefloor to fend for myself. I am working up a sweat, the alcohol going right through me as we dance the night away. I am surprised that Philippe has some moves he has been hiding from me, and it is so easy for just a little while to forget about the problems that we have waiting for us back at his place, just looming next door. But the way he is with me tonight, trying so hard to have a good time, I have to believe he is being genuine with me about being sorry and starting over.
Not able to stop as another hard beat gets my body moving, I slide into step with bodies around me and end up grinding against another woman. Her hair is a fiery red, but I doubt it is the kind she was naturally born with. It looks fresh out of the bottle. Her tits are a little bigger than mine, but her waist is smaller as if she has been modeled out of clay to look like a Barbie doll. She is cute but not typically my type. She smells of peaches, though, so it is fun to dance with her.
I don’t really notice as one song changes to another that Philippe has been gone a little too long, not until I find myself feeling parched after dancing to three songs with two different women. The second one was a lot more fun, and I caught a flash of a tongue ring as she sang along to the song I didn’t know the words to since it was in German.
But when I run into him on the sidelines, I know Philippe has been watching me. For a moment, I am afraid he is going to accuse me of something like being a slut or a lesbian again, but he just hands me my drink. “Sorry, I was just having fun watching you. I have tried for so long to figure you out the hard way instead of just observing.” I only barely catch what he says over the volume, and I say nothing, pensive as I sip my vodka drink. I don’t know what all is in it, but I can tell it is not very strong, he probably doesn’t know his mixed drinks that well.
“You looked sexy,” he tells me. “And like you were having a lot of fun.”
“I was having fun,” I tell him, running my finger teasingly down his chest through his shirt. “Life should be fun. There’s no time for boring.”
“Okay, then, tell me, what would you suggest we do for fun tonight?” he questions.
The first thing that comes to my mind is probably way too intense for him, but as I look him over, a little loosened by alcohol and more open to me being myself than ever before, I throw caution to the wind. “Bringing a girl home with us,” I tell him with a straight face.
“Like a threesome?” he asks, his brow creased. I am about to tell him it’s okay; that he doesn’t have to do that with me. I know he is such a conservative man that it would be asking way too much. But then he points to the dance floor. “Which one do you like?”
“You don’t have to do this for me,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I already accepted your apology.”
“It’s about fun, living a little, right? Not about an apology. If I don’t like it, we don’t do it again. I will just need a little more liquid courage.” I smirk, knowing that this could easily be one of the top ten best nights of my life as I point to the blonde in the green dress with the tongue ring.
“Her. I want her.”
