by K. A. Linde
He doubled over on top of her, grunting as he came inside of her. She shuddered, clenching around him and holding him tight. She didn’t want to let him go. She wanted to stay like this forever.
But, forever wasn’t meant to be forever.
Adam kissed Chyna lightly on her nose. He slowly rolled off of her, grabbed his boxers, and headed for the bathroom. She watched him go with a wonderful satisfaction settling in her stomach. She had never experienced sex in quite the same way. Her heart was open, laying bare on the bed, and she felt light and free. She was…happy.
He returned a moment later, resting his shoulder against the doorframe as he looked down at the floor. Chyna sat up on her elbows and turned her head to face him. She had his typical goofy grin on her face for once.
“Don’t go,” he whispered so softly that she barely heard him.
“Go where?” she asked, having already forgotten their earlier conversation.
“To Italy. Don’t go to Italy.”
She dropped her head back onto the pillow and smiled up at the ceiling. Why was he even bringing this up again? She was leaving in twenty-four hours. It was settled. “I have to go,” she said with a yawn, stretching her arms over her head.
“No. You don’t,” he said, his voice clearly restrained.
She kept her hands overhead and rolled to face him, lying on her right arm. “Adam, come back to bed. I want you to hold me.”
“Chyna, aren’t you listening?” he asked. He still hadn’t looked up from the carpet.
She studied him standing there, bathed in the bathroom light. He was tense, which didn’t make any sense given the circumstances, and he wouldn’t look at her.
“I guess not,” she said softly, her heart picking up speed.
“Don’t go to Italy.”
“Adam, we’ve already talked about this,” she whined. Sitting up cautiously in bed, she wrapped the comforter around her.
“And, you don’t seem to hear what I’m saying.”
“I get that you don’t want me to go.”
“Do you?” he asked, looking up at her finally.
“Y-yes,” she said uncertainly.
She had thought that she got what he was saying. He didn’t want her to go. He would miss her. They had just had unbelievable sex. Did she mention he would miss her? Well, she would miss him, too, but it didn’t make any sense why he was bringing this up again.
“Then, why are you going?” he asked.
“Adam, I didn’t think you were serious,” she said, tilting her head and assessing him. “I mean, I know that you wanted me to stay, but I thought that was just because you were going to miss me. I didn’t think that you actually didn’t want me to pursue modeling.”
“You didn’t think I was serious? You thought I wanted my girlfriend on the other side of the planet?” he asked in disbelief.
“Well, no, but—”
“But, you were going to do it anyway.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. Her post-coital bliss was disappearing with every word he uttered. “Why are you doing this?”
“Chyna, I want you to understand. I don’t want you to go. Stay with me here in New York,” he said, walking forward out of the bathroom. He sat down on the side of the bed and took her hands in his, pleading with her. “Why would you want to leave New York? Why would you want to leave me?”
“I’m not leaving you, Adam,” she reassured him. “I’ll only be gone for two months. I’ll be back before you know it.”
He shook his head. “At what cost?”
“What are you getting at?” she asked, staring down at where he was still holding her hands.
“After what happened here…” he trailed off.
“After what happened?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.
He glanced away from her but answered, “With John.”
“You think I’ll cheat on you?” she hissed. After everything that had just happened and their perfect relationship since that incident, he still thought so poorly of her. He still thought that she wouldn’t be the girlfriend that he deserved.
Her chest expanded, and her breathing suddenly became very heavy. It was like she was sucking air in and breathing it out, but none of it was happening fast enough. Her hands began trembling lightly in his. She couldn’t believe this. She couldn’t believe him. After the best sex of her life…he had to go and…she couldn’t even think it.
“I don’t know, Chyna. No.”
“Well, which is it?” she asked slowly, trying to make sure she kept breathing.
“No. No, I don’t think that. I just…don’t know.”
“Now, you’re not making sense,” she whispered, clutching onto his hands to keep hers from shaking.
“I just don’t want you to go. You don’t need the money!” he insisted. “Why are you going? Why are you leaving me?”
“Adam, I’m not leaving you,” she reassured him again helplessly. Why did he keep saying that? “And, it’s not about the money. I don’t care about the money. I want to prove that I can do something right, but apparently, even the right thing is wrong.”
“You don’t need to go to Italy to prove that you can do something right, Chyna,” he told her. “You can do something right by staying here in New York! Don’t you see?”
“No, I don’t. Can’t you see that I need this? Aren’t you supposed to see that?” she pleaded.
“Chyna, but we’re happy. Right?”
“Yeah, Adam, we’re happy. I’m not unhappy with you. I just need…my own life. You have a job that you love, and you want to work late nights because you love it so goddamn much. I don’t have anything like that! I just have…me,” she whispered. “I want something that’s mine.”
“I’m yours,” he told her.
“Then, let me do this!”
“Okay,” he said, standing and dropping her hands.
She breathed out a sigh of relief. He was finally coming around. He was finally seeing that she needed this.
“Then, you should be able to do this your way,” he whispered softly.
“I agree.”
“Good.”
“I’m glad we’re finally on the same page.”
“Me, too,” he said, nodding. “I can’t do long distance.”
Chyna snapped her head around to look at him. She ground her teeth to keep from showing the shock that she was sure, if he just looked at her, registered in her eyes. “You…can’t do long distance?” she asked flatly.
“No. You want this. Then, you should have it. I’m glad we agree on that.”
“Is this about Christina?” she asked him desperately. It was the only thing that explained how this was coming so far out of left field. His last girlfriend had left him because they couldn’t do long distance. Why did he assume that she was the same way? She wished he would just talk to her!
“What?” he asked, showing the shock that she had on her face only seconds ago. “No! This is not about Christina. This is about you wanting to go off and find something of your own. This is about you following your dreams. This is about you, Chyna. This is not about me.”
“Adam,” she breathed, begging him to look at her.
“I have to go,” he said, pulling his clothes back on. “This is a mutual thing. We agreed.” He made the last part sound like a death sentence. A mutual agreement had never felt so one-sided. “Have a safe trip,” he said, glancing at her one last time over his shoulder before making a break for the door.
She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. Her heart felt like it had been run over by a bulldozer. If she had thought her breathing was bad before, she wasn’t even sure if she was breathing now.
Her normal reaction would have been to immediately call Alexa or even Frederick and talk out this ridiculous turn of affairs. But, she didn’t even have it in her heart to give either of them a call. What would they say to her that she couldn’t tell herself?
The fact that Adam w
ould have the audacity to leave her not once but now twice was unbelievable. He claimed it was mutual, and maybe it was to an extent. She had agreed with him after all. She needed to go. She needed to do this to prove to herself, if no one else, that she could do something great.
He had every right to leave her. He had every right to want to have a stable girlfriend. He had every right to find someone better.
She didn’t deserve the heartache. If he didn’t want her, then she shouldn’t want him. She could have another guy in a second.
All true.
None of it mattered now.
She brought her hand up to her eyes and pressed against them hard. God, she was a mess! Why did he have to leave? For once, why couldn’t things be as wonderful and perfect as everyone thought her life was?
They were happy. They were so happy. Yet, she still wasn’t good enough for him. She still wasn’t good enough to keep around. She was going to be gone for two months, not six months, not a year. They could have worked through it. Other people did it! What made them so different?
Was it just a way out? Did he want to be rid of her? This would be the easiest way for him to do that, if that was what he wanted. But, that didn’t explain his behavior. He didn’t have to come to Atlanta with her for Alexa’s graduation. He didn’t have to be so sweet and caring. He didn’t have to have beautiful, passionate sex with her.
He had done all those things and left her anyway. So, maybe the reasoning in the long run didn’t matter. Regardless, he had come to the same conclusion. He had struck the final blow.
She pulled her hands away from her eyes and saw that they were wet. A sob escaped her, and she bent forward over her knees, tears streaming down her face. She hiccupped, pain racking her body as she shook with the force of her despair.
Why was she crying? Why was she crying? Why the hell was she crying?
She couldn’t cry over him. She didn’t cry over boys. This was ridiculous. She hadn’t cried the last time they had broken up…well, not until she had called Lexi and realized the extent of the situation. Why couldn’t this be like last time?
Why couldn’t she find the anger instead of this pain that had locked itself away in her heart and was slowly eating away at it from the inside out?
CHAPTER 11
PRESENT
Two weeks.
Two whole weeks.
That’s how long it took before Marco pulled the advertisement with her picture on it. It was long enough to make her truly feel the weight of what she had done, but it wasn’t long enough to make it look like a mistake on his end.
It was strange walking the streets of her home again. She had already gotten used to people staring at her, trying to place her face, or pointing out an advertisement as she walked by. The ad had made her an overnight celebrity, a constant reminder of what she had left behind in Milan. Whatever Marco’s original intentions were, the display was now only laced with regret.
She turned the corner toward Barneys and came face to face with Ravenna. She looked exquisite in painted on black pants, an olive button-up shirt, and black peep-toe heels. Her red hair was pulled off of one side of her face, and she managed to wear blood red lipstick perfectly.
Chyna knew that the picture wasn’t as good as her own. Ravenna was second best, a backup, and it showed. Probably not to most eyes, but Chyna knew. She had been there when this picture was taken in the middle of the summer at a mock studio outside of the city. Marco had been in a foul mood, yelling at everyone. He hadn’t liked a single picture that day. Guess he had changed his mind.
She knew what he was getting at. She was replaceable. He didn’t need her. Even on his worst day when nothing was going right, he could capture something fitting enough to plaster all over New York City…without her.
She heard him loud and clear. Loud. And. Clear.
Asshole.
Chyna passed the sign, ignoring the woman who commented on how pretty the model was, and walked down the street toward Madison Avenue. Tourists flitted around outside of Barneys. Some were walking purposefully with their cell phone plastered to their ear while others were moseying along, occasionally snapping photos. Why they were taking a picture of a department store was beyond her. Didn’t people have department stores at home? Granted this was Barney’s, but still.
She pushed past a crowd of people debating whether or not to go inside and she walked through the doors toward the elevator. The elevator deposited her on the ninth floor, and she strolled into Fred’s for her afternoon luncheon.
The hostess asked for her name, and Chyna was thankful that she had a reservation. The restaurant was packed. She never came here on Saturday afternoons, but some exceptions could be warranted. This was definitely one of them.
She followed the hostess to her table and took a seat. The past two weeks had gone by painfully slow, and she was ready to get back to modeling. She had gone to Milan to prove to herself that she could do something great, and she had done it. Modeling was something she was great at. She had never known how much she would love it though.
She tried to act like she was going to move on and do some other mindless activity like she always did. Alexa was seeing through her act though. She was thankful that she had a friend who would give her space and let her deal with her problems on her own. After Chyna had landed on her doorstep when she returned from Milan, Alexa had been giving her the time she needed. She wanted to help, but they had known each other long enough to know that Alexa needed the push, and Chyna rejected it.
She shrugged the thoughts away, wanting to concentrate on the present. What mattered now was moving forward. She couldn’t change what had happened with Marco—that she had left him…and that note.
How could she have left that? No. She wouldn’t regret it. That note was perfection. It was something he needed to hear, and it was something she needed him to know. She wasn’t going to be tossed aside. Even though he was playing his card by pulling down her picture, it was the only card he had.
She had left him, after all.
Her thoughts vanished as her quarry walked through the restaurant entrance. Cassandra Corsa was a slight woman with more style than anyone Chyna had ever met. A brown dress tied around her neck, cinching in her dangerously slim waist, and pleated slightly into a perfect A-line just past her knees. She wore white peep-toe heels and a white signature Corsa purse. Her hair was parted on the right and pulled back into a low bun at the nape of her neck, and she wore accentuating makeup. Chyna couldn’t have guessed her age if she had tried.
Cassandra was a woman who knew the inside and outside of beauty. She could take something ordinary and create something beyond what you could have ever expected. Her family line was made of designers, and she had been in Corsa designs since she was an infant. The Corsa name carried weight and power in the world that Chyna wanted back into, and Chyna wanted nothing more than to use that to her advantage. Plus, she liked Cassandra.
The hostess smiled at Cassandra and walked her back to Chyna’s table. Chyna stood gracefully, leaning forward, as she kissed both of Cassandra’s cheeks.
“Good to see you, dear,” Cassandra said with a smile.
“And, you as well. I’m fortunate that you are in New York this weekend,” Chyna said, mirroring her smile.
“Ah, yes. Business calls,” she said, taking a seat across from her.
A waiter arrived promptly. They both requested water and salads, the customary model diet. Cassandra started haggling the waiter about their variety of wine, and she ended up ordering a bottle of some vintage import. Chyna was hoping that the conversation would be shorter than a bottle of wine. She hadn’t really been drinking much the past two weeks and couldn’t afford a slip up.
“I was surprised to hear from your mother,” Cassandra mused aloud. “I wasn’t even aware that you were related at first.”
Chyna smiled, sitting up straighter in her chair. “Well, I’m glad she was able to reach you.”
“Your Marco would
n’t give you the number?” she asked, her face giving away nothing.
Chyna breathed in sharply, not wanting to have this conversation. She wanted the modeling job. That was all she was here for. She wasn’t here for Marco. Forget about Marco. He put her on the map, and she damn well was going to keep herself there.
“It didn’t come up,” she answered honestly in as vague a manner as she could muster.
“I saw your spread,” Cassandra noted.
“I think everyone saw it,” Chyna said. “Isn’t he extraordinary?” She wasn’t sure why she was using the same phrasing Cassandra had used at the Glam Ball, but it seemed fitting. She wanted to stay in comfortable conversation.
“He’s young,” she said with a shrug.
She had probably seen many talented young men come and go. Chyna doubted many of them had Marco’s flare. She needed to stop thinking about him. She was obsessed with an imaginary dream, and she needed to let it go!
“A young visionary. I think many have started as such,” Chyna said as Cassandra’s wine arrived.
The waiter popped open the bottle and poured each of them a full glass of red wine. It was truly incredible—sweet but not too sweet and as smooth as butter. She could have drunk the whole bottle herself. Probably not the best idea under the circumstances.
Cassandra sipped from her glass and sighed. “If only it was Italian,” she purred, her face a mask with a smile that didn’t seem to fit her.
“I miss Italian wine,” Chyna agreed. But, this shit was fantastic.
“I always miss my home when I’m away,” she said, swirling the wine around in her glass before taking another sip.
“I can understand that. I’m back in New York after all.”
“This is your home?” she asked, studying her face.
Chyna nodded.
“I would have thought…well, it doesn’t matter.”
“You would have thought what?” Chyna prompted.
“Just something…more. I can’t explain it,” Cassandra said, flourishing her hand to close the conversation. “Well, let’s get down to it. I’ve been up to my ears with meetings since I’ve been here. Why did you call this one?”