Chapter 10 Chapter 9:
Arya:
When I say Devon Brookes is a good kisser, I wasn’t joking about that. Hands planted behind my waist, his steady body towering over mine and that deep kiss that has my knees buckling, I am transported to years ago, but this feels...somewhat different. The intensity of fireworks exploding in the pit of my stomach is enough to light up New York.
Everything begins to blur, I can barely make out the shape of others as his hand is still around mine. I go on my tiptoes, digging my hand is his dark short curls, just when I want to dig deeper, he stops the kiss.
His hand is still firmly around the small of my back, “Are you okay?” He asks softly, and I almost fall, but his jade-green eyes are layered deep on me.
My cheeks are flustered with heat and then it hits me. I just kissed Devon in front of a hundred people, and can we talk about the part he called me babe? My heart is thundering, I am losing my stance.
Devon’s hand moves towards my wrist, holding me in place.
“Come on, let’s go.” He says softly, leading me towards the corridor. We pass people and Devon’s face is stoic hard as we pass by. Aunt Natasha stares at me in utter shock and Wendy gives me a strange look that says, ‘You got explaining to do, girl.’
Anna is here with Kevin and the look they give me is enough to burn me down. My steps falter as he leads me towards the hall.
“Where are we going?” I ask tiredly, but he stops and leads me into a room. The door clicks shut and I stare around, there’s two plush leather chairs and a tall bookcase filled with books.
“This is my secret hideout.” He doesn’t bother elaborating, “Take a seat.”
I do as told, but I can’t stay still, my mind is boiling with questions that will explode anytime soon. “What in the hell is going on? Why did you do that? Why did you say that? Why did you kiss me?”
He stares at me calmly, for once, can’t this man appear troubled? Why is he always so calm?
“They are going to target you, Arya, the media. They are dangerous,” He says calmly, can’t he raise his fucking voice for once?
I fold my hands, “You could have done better things! Did you know what you just got me into? The whole world is going to start following me.” I retort, my whole past is going to be dug up. Everything about me will be labeled on the internet, oh and, what am I going to tell my family?
“I am going to introduce you as my girlfriend.” He says, grabbing a glass of wine on the table.
“What?” I can feel my whole fucking soul drain out of me. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Arya.” My name on his lips comes out so cool and fresh. “I will have you know that the internet is not a friendly environment, the people will come after you, they will question you. I know that I put you in a tight spot and I am sorry for that, but for now. You have to play along.”
I squirm uncomfortably in my chair, “I don’t want anyone knowing about Vera.” I don’t want her exposed to the brutal hands of the internet; I want her safe and not judged at the tender age of two.
“No one will know about her,” His jaw is ticking and I realize that we both have the same interest at hand: To protect our daughter. “You have to act as my girlfriend for at least a couple of months; no one will dig you up if you are with me. Please, Arya. Let’s do this for Vera.”
He stares at me, waiting for an answer. All of this is for our daughter, he’s right, if we don’t pretend, people will know about Vera, they will monitor her. The thought almost makes me sick.
I gulp down. “Fine, Let’s pretend to be dating.”
“Great,” He clasps his hand together, and tugs at his suit, “We have to make this real. The movers are already at your house moving your stuff, don’t worry, I already met Nicole. We have a press meeting to talk about you.”
“Me?” I didn’t realize that agreeing to this whole facade meant a great deal of trouble, still, I tell myself. This is for Vera, my Vera; I am doing this to keep her safe.
“Daphne is waiting outside in the car. Meet her there, and I will meet you at the press conference,”
He stands up and gives me a look. His eyes stop for a moment to glance at me, I stand still as his gaze trickles down my body, scorches of heat shoot up my skin but I try to ignore them, just when I thought he was going to say something, he snaps his mouth shut and walks out.
“Please go through the cards, ma’am. We will get to the venue in less than twenty minutes.” Daphne says coolly when I sight her outside, hands tightened on the wheels. It’s easy to pass her and Devon as siblings; they are both built and act like robots.
I sit in the passenger’s seat, flipping through the cards. I haven’t checked my phone because I am sure of the countless messages and calls I will receive from my family and aside from that, I am pretty sure my follower count would have increased by well...a million.
I have an interview in less than twenty minutes with Devon; we are going to talk about our fake relationship with the public. How is it that people are interested in other people’s lifestyle and never really seem to concentrate on theirs?
When we reach the interview room, everyone here is already prepared. Light seems to flash everywhere, the chandeliers bouncing off the plain cream coloured wall, there’s a chair for the person asking the questions, and another sofa perched opposite it. A camera perched on a tripod is blinking, the red light casting a sense of glow to the room.
I swallow.
Daphne turns towards me. “You have got this, ma’am.”
“Can you really stop calling me ma’am?” For fuck’s sake, we are most likely around the same age, and it makes me feel uncomfortable. “And, why in the hell is Devon making you work the weekends? Can’t you just quit?”
“He pays well.” She shrugs. She gives me a robotic smile before walking off.
Devon is already seated there, wearing his Saint Laurent suit from earlier. One of the cameramen hands me a mocha latte but I decline since I only drink pumpkin spice latte, the rest makes me want to puke.
Wiping my sweaty hands against my dress, I remind myself that I am okay, I am not dying, my sweet girl is at home probably watching cartoons and right now, for the first time in my freaking life, I am going to appear live on TV. Everyone will be watching this, literally everyone who is gossipers.
I join Devon in the seat, so that we are seating together on the same sofa. A few snapshots here and there have me blinking my eyes.
“Miss. Morris, is it?” The reporter, a woman in her thirties wearing designer clothes asks with a bright smile. How do they know my name already?
Because we are live, I try not to appear nervous, “Yes.”
“Awesome. So, everybody has been dying to know how you met Devon Brookes, you are a designer at ClaraVogue. But, you don’t appear in celebrity places often. So, how did you meet Devon Brookes?”
I go with our not so ‘meet cute’. “We met on a cruise ship, but quickly called it off, and then my colleagues were pitching ideas to him, and we just sort of hit it off from there.” I state nervously, covering it up with a laugh. At least, that’s the truth, just a little tweaked. And then, I say, “When I first met him, I had no idea he was a mega billionaire.”
“Until I googled him of course.” I say softly, laughing.
The reporter places her hand on her chest, “That’s lovely, Miss. Morris, so how many months have you been seeing each other?”
“Just a few days.” I say, that was what the card stated.
“So, Miss. Morris, for instance, let’s imagine that Mr. Brookes wants to propose, how will you love the setting?”
I take a peek at Devon, his face is as stoic as ever, I shift in the chair, causing my knee to accidentally graze with his, an unsettling chill runs through my spine. Okay, that question is definitely not in the cards.
“Well, someone wise once told me never to follow cliché.” I say mockingly, but Devon’s expression doesn’t falter a bit, “So, I guess I want our proposal to be like the day we met, on a cruise ship? With fireworks that spell out, will you marry me and champagne maybe?” I laugh, “I will say yes to that.”
“Lovely! Mr. Brookes, are you taking notes of this?” The reporter asks.
“Yes,” comes his gruff reply. After a few more questions, we are done. Devon drives us to his house, we are silent through the whole drive, it all seems surreal. If someone told me months ago that I will be interacting with a billionaire, I would have laughed straight in their face. But, look at me now.
Devon’s house is located in central park, exactly the house that someone like him will live in. The inside is even splendid, the living room is wide, a leather sofa placed in the middle perched in front of a TV, there’s a corridor that leads to the bathroom and a free entryway to the kitchen. I can see the marble kitchen island from here. This man is coated in luxury.
“Make yourself at home,” He says, standing behind me as I assess everything, I swoop over to Vera who bursts into a smile as she sees us.
“Hey, love.” I kiss the top of her forehead, “Did you have fun with Aunt Nicole today?”
She nods her head, still smiling, “We had fun!” Though, it comes out more wobbly, I press her to my chest, hugging her tight, I don’t want this moving to be hard on her.
I turn towards Devon, who has been standing there quietly, “Um...The housekeeper, Nina comes on weekdays to clean. Your room is down to the left upstairs and Vera’s room is right beside yours.”
“Oh, okay, I might have to go to bed.” I say, all my bones are tired, and even though it’s not yet late, I still want to sleep out everything, I can’t even look at my phone right now, besides I don’t want to talk to anyone now, maybe tomorrow?
Devon nods and grabs Vera from my arms, I don’t know, but the way he holds her seems so elegant. We haven’t decided on changing Vera’s surname to Brookes yet, goodness, the thought of my daughter bearing such a high name in New York City is enough to make me shudder.
I walk upstairs, upon sighting my bedroom, I marvel at the sight of well....everything, a hand woven Persian rug adorns the floor, there’s a king sized bed with cotton sheets and plush pillows, a crystal chandelier hangs above the tall ceiling, casting a warm glow, there’s a opened door that leads to the toilet, and another door in the left leads to a walk in closet.
My personal stuff is here, I am a little bit touched that Devon had the movers bring them here. It’s just cardboards filled with my scrapbooks where I draw initial designs of clothes and posters of countries I will love to visit, along with posters from my favorite concert band. I stare at the large sliding window that reveals a balcony.
Why did he make all these efforts to bring my stuff here? And, why can’t I seem to understand him? I sit on the bed, closing my eyes and trying to fall asleep.