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Trust Sheila to put it so eloquently. Jordan could understand where Chloe’s people were coming from. They didn’t appreciate being ditched by their boss.
Well, tough. She’s with me. And we aren’t doing anything wrong.
No I didn’t, her bodyguards are with us. We went to get food. Ignore the others.
Ok. But still giving them ?? Be a good boy. C U tomorrow.
R U still with Leon?
??
“Who is that?”
There was a distinct sense of worry, almost suspicion in Chloe’s voice. Jordan dropped his phone into his coat pocket. “My assistant, Sheila. The woman I was with at the club. She wanted to know if I had left. Apparently, your people are not happy that you slipped out with me.”
Chloe nodded. “Oh. Ok.”
“Why? Am I not supposed to use my phone when I’m with you?”
A patch of red flushed Chloe’s cheeks. “Of course you can. It’s just that I get a little edgy when people I’m out in public with start suddenly texting. In my experience the paparazzi are not normally far behind.”
Ouch.Jordan scrubbed a hand over his cheeks.Do I have douchebag written all over my face?
“A guy would have to have a serious death wish to want to lure you and your hefty bodyguards out of a Berlin nightclub just to get a photo for a pap,” Jordan huffed. He was annoyed at the insinuation. Retrieving his phone, he unlocked it, then pushed it screen facing upward toward Chloe. “That’s the exchange Sheila and I just had. Other than that I haven’t touched my phone since we left the club. Feel free to check. I’ve nothing to hide.”
She had the good grace to look away from the phone before whispering. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
But Jordan was the one feeling sorry. Sorry for Chloe. He pitied her. Was there no one in her life whom she could trust without first having them sign an NDA?
This woman lives at a whole other level of fame. Where everything she says or does is closely scrutinized. Including apparently her food. That’s not success, that’s a prison sentence.
“Chloe, I have no interest in crashing your life. Or ruining your evening. If any of this is a problem, I’ll get the check, and we can say goodnight. I promise, you won’t be seeing any quotes from me on the gossip sites or in theDaily Mail. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Chloe had barely touched any of the delicious food he had ordered, and now she was worried about him tipping off the paparazzi so he could sell her image. But he was the last person who would go talking to the press.
You have no idea how much I don’t ever want to see my face in the newspapers again.
“I’m sorry, Jordan. I’m sorry, forget what I said. Please, can we just eat?” she pleaded.
Chloe was sensibly wrapped up in a large black overcoat, beret, and scarf. March in Berlin was bitterly cold. The snow still thick on the ground. The coat was miles too big for her, but Jordan could see how it would come in handy for hiding from the public. Between her rust brown beret and the coat lapels, only her face showed. He caught a glimpse of the stray lock of her black hair which had escaped, and his fingers itched to tuck it back behind her ear.
Don’t touch her. She is like a cat on a hot tin roof.
Her warm disguise was necessary, but it was also a shame. He’d liked what he’d seen in the nightclub. The tight silver tank top and jeans. The sky high heels of her boots. And those sexy silver hoop earrings. He’d always had a thing about girls and hoop earrings.
And here he was, giving her his best rich boy attitude. Chloe was clearly not used to dealing with people who didn’t come into her life without their own set of agendas. She didn’t know him, or his background. His family’s billions shouldn’t even come into this—he should just get over his ego and let her enjoy this moment of freedom.
A change in topic might help. Give her something else to talk about other than the worry of stalker fans.
“Are you headed back to the States after tonight, or do you have more shows in Europe? I honestly only found out about tonight’s concert by sheer chance when I turned on the TV in my hotel suite.”
Chloe handed Jordan’s phone back to him. “Yes well, you don’t fit the usual profile for Chloe’s Garden. I think it’s close to ninety-five percent female Gen Z and Gen Alpha.” As he reached out to take it, their fingers brushed over one another. In a moment that could only be described as pure serendipity, they both let out a small gasp at the heated touch.
A thrill of lust went straight to Jordan’s cock. His head shot up and he met Chloe’s stunned gaze.
She felt it too. I would have to be the world’s biggest idiot right now. I’ve just told this girl I wasn’t interested in a fling and yet when we touch—lighting bolts.
* * *
