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“I know!”
“Great minds, Pretty Boy.”
“I’ll send a car for you at eight.”
ChapterFourteen
Crispy Prawn Pancakes for Two
EDITORIAL:
Are you following the latest drama surrounding Blair Roberts? If you are, then you might want to check out Blair’s latest Twitter rant. It’s clear that she’s going through some tough times, but airing your private emotions on a public forum like social media can come with some serious consequences, especially when you’re a celebrity. It’s safe to say that she will not be coming out of this mess unscathed.
Kaan, on the other hand, has been relatively quiet on social media, except for a recent tweet showing a photo of himself on stage in Camden, singing a few Seven of Crow’s hits. The photo, taken by a fan, captured Kaan crooning the ballad, ‘Remember You’ while his eyes were locked on girlfriend Meg Martin, who was standing off-stage. The caption reads, “This is all that matters”.
I have to admit, I’m feeling all the feels right now, but how do you guys feel about this relationship? Hit me up in the comments below.
I’m Pippa Ellis, and this is Fame and No-sense.
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Driving to Kaan’s in his town car is an exercise in patience. London peak hour traffic moves along at its usual snail’s pace, making me seriously wonder whether I could have walked and gotten to Chelsea faster. It did, however, give me more time to mull over the past few weeks. My moratorium on penis’s… and men… has been well and truly tossed aside for a shag with a rock star. Not only that, but I’ve broken the number one cardinal rule at Brazen: donotsleep with a client!
But dwelling never gets you anywhere (like tonight’s traffic) so instead I check my outfit and makeup. I’ve got to at least look somewhat presentable in case there’s any sneaky photographer’s lurking around.
I’m coming straight from work so I’m wearing a sleeveless, fuchsia, sheath dress, with a midi hemline that I matched with a black belt that sinched the dress at my waist, and black platform heels. The dress is a sample from last year’s UK fashion week that was gifted to me by a designer, in exchange for some light social media posts. One might say the fuchsia clashes horribly with my auburn hair but I don’t mind clashing when the dress is this beautiful.
The car turns off the well-lit main drag and down an alleyway. Nothing but garages and brick walls. I’ve never been inthispart of Chelsea.
“This can’t be the place.”
“It surely is, Miss Morgan.” Kaan’s regular driver points out the small doorway, at the bottom left of the tall, locked steel garage. “See the door there?”
Reaching for the handle with a clammy hand, I take a couple of deep breaths before scooping up my jacket. The deep breaths do little to calm me and I practically fall out of the car and onto the pavement. Thankfully there’s no one around to catch my less than stellar entrance… except for Kaan who appears as if from nowhere, drink in hand, wearing a black knit sweater and what can only be described as a pair of grey harem pants that gather tightly at the ankle.
“Women just can’t help but fall at my feet.”
I grimace as I pull myself upright and straighten my dress, using those few precious seconds to regain a little composure. “A gentleman would help me up.”
Kaan’s lips are pressed together in an attempt to not laugh at me. “Let me know if you ever find one.”
I feel a little flutter in my stomach at the sight of him but I push it aside with determination. As my heels click-clack along the stone footpath my brain is hollering at me in time with the steps.
It’s just a silly crush!
A one-night stand.
Actually Meg, it was a one-night stand, followed by a hazy morning-after!
No, we haven’t had sex since that first night at my place, but let me tell you, the thoughts have been on repeat! Kaan is the living, breathing definition of raw sexiness, a walking aphrodisiac that sets my senses ablaze, and my mind has become a hot-bed of steamy memories. Let’s just say, my mental archive is quite… graphic. But I can’t let myself get distracted. This is a professional relationship, and I can’t risk it all foranotherquick romp between the sheets.
I groan inwardly but put a decidedly bright grin on my face, thankful that the darkness hides my burning cheeks. “You live here?”
He leans down for a kiss, but I turn my face slightly and his lips graze over my cheek instead. “It’s my secret hideaway.”
As I follow Kaan through the metal doorway, I find myself stepping out into a small garden area that’s been meticulously tended to. The lush greenery surrounds us, and I’m surprised. This is not what I had expected to be hidden behind that unremarkable exterior. Every plant seems to have been carefully placed, the different types of vegetation arranged in a way that feels both wild and yet organised. There’s a small bench to my right, made of wood and weathered by time, and I can’t help but smile at the sight of it. It’s as if Kaan has carved out this space, just for himself.
Kaan crosses the garden, leading me towards a second door that’s discreetly hidden in the foliage. He enters a series of numbers on a security keypad and pushes the door open, revealing a stunning living space beyond. With its polished concrete floors and exposed steel beams it’s past life as a factory is evident yet the space has been transformed into something intimate… personal… with plush leather couches and chairs arranged in a way that encourages conversation, while the vintage record player, stacks of vinyl records and a guitar the only indication that a musician lives here.
