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“Are you ok to move your car, please, Jordan?” she asked. The plea in her voice made her sound weak.
You are weak. Face it, you will never get rid of Marta.
So much for trying to impress her lover. She really ought to pull Marta into line, but the earlier argument with Foster had sapped Chloe of her strength.
Jordan tightened his grip on her hand. “It would be my pleasure, Chloe. How about you come and show me where I’m allowed to park. It is your home, so you should be the one who decides.”
As he led her inside the house, Chloe dared not look back. She was sure Marta’s gaze was burning a large hole in the back of Jordan’s head. Her number one assistant wasn’t one for being crossed. Those foolish enough to challenge her tended to find themselves pushed out of Chloe’s Garden very quickly. Chloe had lost count of the number of minor assistants who had tendered their resignation at short notice, usually via text and often overnight.
But it was apparent that Jordan wasn’t some mere minion who Marta could intimidate. He walked at a leisurely pace. His casual posture bordered on indifference. There was no anger in his stride or his demeanor. When they reached the door, he stopped. A frisson of heat slid down Chloe’s spine as he turned and calmly asked, “Did you want to go for a coffee? I know a place nearby.”
There was a simmering heat in his words.
God, I hope he doesn’t just want to meet for a coffee.
Her waking moments might well be full of pop star demands, but when she was alone, all Chloe could think about was that night in Paris. Of being with Jordan.
Her purse and cell were on a side table next to the front door. She scooped them up and gave him a hopeful smile, before asking, “Where are you staying?”
“The Royal Resorts Beverly Hills, it’s only ten minutes from here.” She followed Jordan’s gaze as it shifted from her to the patio, where Marta was still giving the other staff hell. No doubt her assistant was making sure that none of the people who Marta designated as being merelythe helpgot any sort of idea into their heads of challenging her authority.
Jordan was right, this was her home. These people worked for her, and Chloe knew better than to tell them she was going somewhere with Jordan. Marta and Gabriela would argue against it. And if Chloe persisted, they might cave, but at the same time demand she have a small entourage with her when she left the house. Then the bodyguards would be made to follow. Every time she went out, her people made it a performance piece. It was exhausting.
But if they don’t know I’ve slipped out …
Mind made up, Chloe opened the front door, quickly closing it as soon as Jordan had followed her outside. “I’ve just had a coffee, but from what I learned about you in Paris, Jordan Royal, I’m sure you can find something else just as amazing to offer me.”
His deep, rough chuckle went straight to her sex. “Your wish is my command, Ms. Fisher.”
Jordan pulled the box of chocolates from under his jacket and handed them back to Chloe. “Chocolates for the road. Let’s both try a fruity ganache before we leave, then one of the smooth caramels for the trip down Benedict Canyon Drive.”
He was being cheeky, but also lovely. Charming. Jordan displayed a degree of grace and good humor that Chloe had rarely seen outside of the big gala events when the press and a thousand cameras were tracking every move of the major stars of the entertainment world. Her own people could learn a thing or two from the way he had behaved in the face of such outright rudeness.
Guilt sat heavy in her heart. She didn’t want him leaving here and being reluctant to ever visit at her home again. “I’m sorry about Marta. She is in one of her moods today.”
He gave her a look which all but said he expected Marta was permanently in a foul mood. He wouldn’t be wrong on that count. Her number one personal assistant had been pushing boundaries for some time now. And Chloe hadn’t been pushing back. She was paying people to treat her poorly and tell her what to do.
“I will talk to her. She has no right to speak to my friends like that.”
Jordan didn’t respond to her apology, he simply jangled his car keys, and smiled. “Forget about Marta—I already have. Come on, let’s you and I go have some fun.”
They climbed into the hire car. It was only when Jordan reached the end of the drive and they were about to pass under the ornamental archway, that he spoke again. “Something tells me Marta’s mood is not going to improve while we’re gone.” He pointed to the rear vision mirror. Chloe shifted in her seat and glanced back at the house. In the middle of the forecourt, hands on hips stood Marta. She was looking at the car and shaking her head. Talk about a censuring look.
“I don’t think your evil henchwoman assistant likes me all that much. Fifty bucks says that when you get home tomorrow morning, she takes you aside and tells you that someone like me shouldn’t be in your life. I’m a bad influence,” offered Jordan.
Chloe pressed her teeth into her bottom lip. Here she was, riding in a car with a reformed billionaire bad boy. Stuffing forbidden chocolates into her face. And she was running off to spend the night with him in his hotel suite. Her bad influence bingo card was close to full.
Jordan could keep his fifty bucks. Chloe didn’t care what Marta had to say on the subject of Jordan Royal. Or where or what she was doing. Her phone buzzed and a message popped up.
Call me. Dress fitting for the album launch is at 3
Seriously, the album isn’t even finished. I want this man in my life. I need to have fun.
Sorry out of cell range. Get Gabs to cancel fitting. C U tomorrow.
Jordan gave her a sly, sideways look. “You didn’t just blow off your personal assistant did you, Ms. Fisher?”
“And my security team.” Chloe laughed.
