He was resolute about talking to her, amicably, but upon arriving at her apartment and seeing her dressed that way, despite the song being obviously for me, the fervor in her singing awoke that primal instinct in me. Damn, does everything she do radiate such passion? She cooks with passion because her food is heavenly, and as for sex... let's not even mention it. Now I find she sings with passion too. How much don't I know about her? I don't even know what she's studying, for heaven's sake.
I feel like a wretch after leaving the apartment. The fact that she's that guy's girlfriend gnaws at my chest, and I can't understand why. That woman... she's really struck a chord in my heart, I feel, well, something indefinable.
How in the world did I come up with the idea to propose she be my mistress? Have I lost my mind? Seeing her cry was the most harrowing thing I've ever experienced. Her tears were because of me, her mother was right, she loves me. How did I not realize this before?
I got engaged to Elle for that reason, because I was feeling things for my chocolate, things I shouldn't feel and thought she didn't feel them either. How dense, how stupid I've been! With her, I become this way – dense – because I don't think; all I want is to possess her like a beast. Damn it, that woman sets me on fire in such a divine way.
"Mr. Cameron, Miss Elle Spears is here. She says she wants to see you."
What is she doing here, isn't being at home enough?
"Let her in."
"Hi, love. How are you?" She comes over to kiss me, always looking immaculate. Sure, she's very pretty, polite, has a taste for fashion, but I feel nothing for her, nothing at all.
"Just wonderful, can't you tell?" I know I am harsh with her most of the time, but she only has herself to blame with her persistence.
"I came so we could have lunch together; it would give us a chance to talk." I feel like sending her away.
"Alright, let's go, where would you like to eat?" Out of courtesy. Elle hasn't really wronged me, I know she does what my mother asks. Her puppet. I don't get it; she's beautiful, professional with a bright future, and yet my mother controls her at will.
Since she didn't specify, I take her to a nearby restaurant that I like. It's elegant, opulent, but what I love most is the serene ambiance, the soft music playing.
It reminds me of someone singing a certain song where I'm the bad guy. Maybe I am?
I order a table and as I sit, the first thing I see is those beautiful brown eyes. Almost gives me a heart attack. She doesn't look bad without her apron, so different from when she was at the house, and it's only been a day.
She avoids my gaze, but those eyes are so compelling, always leading to our eyes meeting. Drives me insane that she's here with that guy, good thing Elle is facing away.
As they serve her a glass of wine, and the guy teaches her how to drink it, she knows. She's seen it a thousand times at home. Damn, am I here to eat or to watch Jacky? Just being in her presence has got me hard.
"Love, we should start with the wedding preparations. We haven't set a date yet, but how about we do?" Elle starts babbling.
"Do what you want. Either way, my mother will control everything. Don't bother me with that crap," I say without looking away from their direction.
When they serve the white wine I ordered, I raise my glass and say cheers, surprising her.
Well, this gesture just made us noticeable because her companions, and Elle, turned to look at me and Jacky.
"At places like this, they should offer exclusivity, not let just anyone in."
"If you are going to start with that crap, better we leave, or I will leave. Look, Elle, I'm warning you, I don't want to marry a carbon copy of my mother or my sister. Be your own person," I warn her. I detest it when people are like this.
It bothers me to see her smiling with another man, it bothers me that she doesn't do it as she wishes because she's shy about me being here. I remember my grandmother's words: "Let her go or go all in."
God! Letting her go doesn't seem like an option. I feel too much for her—things I never felt before.
I see her get up to go to the bathroom; she goes alone, so I stand as well and wait by the bathroom door for her to come out.
When she does, I grab her arm, which startles her. Dressed in simple jeans that look amazing on her and a long-sleeved crop top, she looks divine, and I'm damnably aroused.
"My chocolate, let's give it a try," I whisper. She just widens her eyes.
"I won't be your mistress, Cameron. Respect me.”
"I'll leave everything, baby. All for you." I'm desperate for the warmth of her mouth, the softness of her tongue.
"Cameron, you don't even believe that yourself. Stop making things up just to get me to sleep with you."
"I mean it, Jacky. I don't know what the hell's going on, but I want you close; let's talk."
"I don't want to, I don't believe you. Leave me alone; you feel nothing for me, only desire."
"Isn't that enough? Is it normal for only you to get me like this? It's something I can't control, Jacky."
"My boyfriend is waiting." She slips away from under my arm.
I head back to my table.
"Where were you, love?" She asks.
"To the bathroom. Do I need to ask for permission?" I'm annoyed.
"Don't treat me like that, Cameron. Respect me, I'm going to be your wife very soon. Stop being rude; I just want to make peace."
"Then don't try to control me." I can't take my eyes off her, off what's mine.
Because she is mine. Even though I don't want to admit it, she's only mine.
The worst part was when they got up to leave, the guy taking her by the waist and kissing her on the lips. I was furious, and the brazen woman even dared to look at me. Bastard, I could kill him.
"Don't you think that girl, the one who worked at your house, looks different?" I don't know what she's getting at with that ridiculous question, so I don't answer. "She makes a pretty pair with that man, though he seems wealthy." I tense up. What is she aiming for?
"I don't know, I don't care, and they don't look good together. She'd be better off with a white boyfriend." I have no idea why the hell I said that.
"Cameron, do you like that black girl?" She asks, her eyes welling up.
"No." It's my only response.
"It's just that, in the restaurant, you kept looking at her, and then you both went to the bathroom at the same time. Tell me the truth." If I tell her the truth, she'd be devastated.
"I already told you no. Stop thinking about such nonsense, woman." I keep driving until I drop her off at the agency where she works.
I return to the office needing to prepare the design for the unknown client.
I sent the completed design, just waiting for the client to approve it. The modifications I made weren't many; the design was highly original. My father has been distracted since seeing it, surely it reminded him of someone or some stage of his life.
Several days later, and I've received no reply to the email.
"Mr. Cameron, Miss Elle Spears is here to see you," my secretary notifies me.
"Tell her to come in." Now she’s not just in the house, she's here at the company, nearly every day.
"Love, how are you?" "I came to suggest we go out tonight, maybe dancing, something we’ve never done." And we never will; I'm sick of it. I can't continue this charade, I can't stand the thought of marrying someone I feel nothing for, when it's clear that my body and my heart want to be with one person in particular.
"I'm not in the mood, Elle."
"Love, please indulge me, I want to go." She gives me those pleading puppy dog eyes; I scoff, annoyed.
"Fine, but just for a while. I don’t want to be making a scene in public." She knows what I'm referring to; I dislike public affection and all that nonsense.
She's delighted.
At night, we head to a prestigious club. She tries to hold my hand, but I won't allow it; I don’t like it, and she just doesn’t get it.
We sit at a table; it's boring with just the two of us. If I were with my black beauty, my hand would be exploring her, making her climax on my fingers.
I dance with her just to appease her, but I have to thank Elle for this invite because it helped me make a decision. Jacky is the woman I want to be with, and I'll have to do things I've never done before, like wooing a woman with romantic gestures. I have to win back her heart, no matter what my mother or anyone else thinks, I want her, and there are no doubts about it.
I come out of my thoughts when I feel Elle’s lips on mine.
"Elle, I'm sorry, let's go. We need to talk about something very serious." She smiles; I feel sorry for her, but my heart has already decided who it wants to be with.
"What's the hurry, love? What's going on?" She asks as we get into the car.
"Elle, I’m truly sorry. I know I’m a jerk, an insensitive ass, but I’m clear about my feelings; I don't love you, no matter how much I try, I want to be with someone else. I'm sorry, but this is over." She starts to cry.
"Just stay with me tonight, just one last night," she pleads.
"I'm sorry Elle, but I'm going to take you home. I hope you understand."
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