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And now the concert was over. The crowd was streaming out of the arena and since it was a midweek night, she expected most would be making their way straight home. She couldn’t blame them. Two and a half hours of concert had left her exhausted, and her fans had been singing and dancing along with her from the very first note.
Her entourage had hit it hard in Berlin and were still in recovery mode. Marta and Gabriela had barely made it through the first half of tonight’s show before calling it quits and going back to the hotel. Stixxluv was his usual super professional self and had remained. His role as Chloe’s stylist meant he had to make sure she looked mind-blowingly fantastic on stage. And tonight she had.
The costume, hair, and makeup had played a significant part in how amazing she felt tonight, but there was something extra. A bubble of excitement which bounced around in her belly. A secret. After the concert she was going to steal away and meet with Jordan Royal.
She was eager to see if he would take things further than he had in Berlin, and also worried. What if he didn’t want them to be anything more than friends?
Ok. Ok. You can do friends. Friends is good.
It wasn’t. There was something about Jordan that kept him constantly at the forefront of her thoughts.
“Are you coming back to the hotel?” asked Stixxluv.
“Um. Yes. Yes. I am.”
Chloe was slowly coming back down from the adrenaline high of the concert. Of accepting the adoration of forty-thousand fans. She’d showered, and all traces of her heavy waterproof stage makeup were gone, replaced by a light powder and barely there classic eye. Her hair was brushed and blown out. Her makeup and hair stylists knew how to have her shine on stage, but only Chloe handled her day-to-day makeup.
Her glittering costumes were being carefully handled by the tour team and packed away, ready for the trip home to the US.
She was dressed in a short black dress, a demure contrast to the deep pink matching bra and panty set she wore underneath. Her soft leather knee-high boots had been a gift from a new LA based designer, keen to have his hand-crafted footwear worn by the one and only Chloe. The gold hoop earrings were her lucky earrings. They had been the first thing she’d bought for herself when her debut album hit the top of the charts.
Hopefully they will bring me luck tonight.
“I’m coming back to the hotel, but I’ll be holing up in my suite tonight. I have a one am Zoom meeting with a potential new business contact in the states.” She pointed at her dress. “Hence the subdued choice of wardrobe.”
It was a flat out lie, and if her stylist actually cared for anything other than the clothes and how working with Chloe progressed his own career, he would have asked why the meeting couldn’t have waited until they returned to the USA in a matter of days. Him not giving a shit about anything that didn’t personally involve him or money, played into her hands. Stixxluv could suit himself. Chloe had other things on her mind.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Jordan. In the shower this morning, she had closed her eyes and imagined it was his hands roaming all over her body. Stroking, touching, and bringing her to climax once more.
God, I hope he doesn’t want to waste too much time in getting to know me first. I’m not sure if I’m capable of more than a couple of minutes of idle small talk.
She’d already read the file her security team had put together on Jordan Royal. Her cheeky message to Jordan that they were compiling a dossier on him, might have sounded like a joke, but it wasn’t.
His past had sent up some red flags. Drugs. Rehab. Party pictures which featured fully naked women. Fortunately, his transgressions seemed to be in the dim and distant past. If they hadn’t, she wouldn’t be taking a chance with him.
* * *
Jordan had come to the glaringly obvious conclusion that hanging around outside at night in the middle of March wasn’t such a smart idea. According to his phone’s weather app, it was minus three degrees Celsius. He did the rough calculations to convert it back to Fahrenheit. Twenty-six degrees might be a bigger number, but it was still freezing. The wind chill factor had to be pulling it down another notch or three.
His jeans were a merino wool and denim blend. Comfortable and warm. His all-weather Ugg boots were lined with wool, and his deep green peacoat was the finest money could buy. But his face and hands were icy cold. He’d accidently left his scarf and gloves upstairs in the apartment. With his coat collar turned up and both hands stuffed deep into his pockets, he was giving off sleezy drug dealer vibes rather than Parisian suave.
It was a little after eleven. He’d checked his phone a few minutes ago. Since leaving the concert he had been on edge.
Give her time to shower, change, and find her way here.
His phone was set to buzz just in case she messaged him.
Maybe I should message her. No. That would make me look desperate.
He would do anything not to appear like an overeager fanboy; to have her see him as a real man, one who was interested in her as a woman. His years of being a billionaire playboy were well behind him and he wanted something more meaningful in his life. Why he felt like that could be found with someone like Chloe he hadn’t the foggiest of ideas. But he knew, deep down, he wanted more than a one night hook up with her.
Jesus, Jordan. You’re not a player high on power anymore. You shouldn’t even be thinking of words like hook up when it comes to her. She’s a woman, not a conquest.
Yesterday, on the one hour and forty-five-minute flight from Berlin to Paris, he’d done some homework and checked out more of Chloe’s background. He knew a bit about her music, and that she was famous, but until now, that had been the extent of his knowledge.
She’d said she was having her people create a file on him, so tit-for-tat, he’d done the same. He now knew she was almost twenty-nine years old. Originally from a small town somewhere in Nebraska. She’d moved out to LA eight or nine years ago and been discovered by her manager after she’d posted a song on YouTube. That track, “No One Is My Hero”, had eventually become the first in a string of massive hits.
There wasn’t much else to be found online about Chloe before she’d become a star. Various articles and gossip pieces made mention of her having been raised by a paternal aunt and uncle. But the rest of her past seemed to have been buried deep. He had an inkling that someone had gone in and made a point of erasing Chloe’s original pre-fame life. In its place sat a carefully curatedlitebackstory.
