Chapter 76
Aida
“The world was all before them…
and Providence their guide.”
—Milton, Paradise Lost
In the end, it’s not Cal’s shirtless Instagrams, or the ‘candid’ shots of us Alchemy’s been dropping on its social channels, or any of the paparazzi shots we orchestrated that win the public over.
It’s some footage from inside the nightclub we all went to after Belle and Rafe’s engagement party, and afterward, as we stood on the sidewalk waiting for a cab. The footage is grainy and crappy and obviously shot on some random person’s iPhone.
But it doesn’t matter.
They’ve captured us on the dance floor, slow dancing together in a way that’s also really dirty (this is Cal we’re talking about), and then outside, Cal’s arms around my big, furry coat, holding me in a vice as he kisses me.
And I get why the tabloids paid up for this content, because no matter how low quality it is, it does an amazing job of showing our chemistry.
We look smoking together. I can’t deny it. We’re sexy and hungry and adorable and besotted. We fit. I guess I have to be grateful to the unknown person who invaded our privacy and recorded us without our permission—or knowledge. Because you can’t fake this kind of authenticity.
When I was on the Gordon Kay Show, Cal sat in the audience looking handsome and adoring, and the cameras panned to him frequently while Gordon was interviewing me. Mara’s verdict was that we did good: that the public was starting to tentatively ship us.
The headlines around this footage tell me the goodwill towards us is building. A lot of them are plays on the name of my show. AIDA FINDS PARADISE WITH SEX CLUB OWNER or LOOKS LIKE PARADISE. It’s all gold for the show’s prospects.
But is it awful that my favourite headline is in the Mirror and is accompanied by a still of Cal’s head buried in my neck on that Mayfair sidewalk? The headline is JOHN WHO?
It’s spiteful and mean spirited and vindictive, and I’m definitely a horrible person.
But when your year has been dominated by lurid headlines surrounding the antics of your cheating ex, that headline is like a shot of crack to your veins.
I laughed so hard when I saw it. If it wasn’t for the boys, I’d probably frame it and put it in the bathroom.
John who, indeed.
The man who’s come over to Shepherds Bush to drag me out of my office at the Television Centre and take me to lunch at White City House is most definitely not my aristocratic ex-husband.
Nope. This man is young, and stunningly good-looking, and so obviously dripping with carnality it should be illegal. Mara may have joined us for a debrief given today’s press buzz, but I only have eyes for Cal.
My club is a phone-free zone, and for that reason, it’s usually celebrity-heavy. But Cal and I have gotten a few looks, and our photograph was in full view on the stack of papers in reception when we arrived.
I’m openly admiring my hot boyfriend in his snug black cashmere turtleneck and jeans when Mara looks up from her phone.
‘Huh,’ she says.
‘What?’ I ask without looking away from Cal, who’s returning my ravenous stare with his best do I have plans for you smile.
‘If you could stop eye-fucking each other for long enough, I’ll tell you.’
I twist my mouth in amusement and tear my gaze away. ‘Sorry. What is it?
She jerks her head toward Cal. ‘Looks like I’ve got myself a new client. GQ wants to interview this one.’
‘Angle?’ I ask, right as he shakes his wrist out in that universal male signal of self-satisfaction.
‘Fuck, yeah,’ he hisses. That warrants an eye roll, so I treat him to one.
‘Looks like “real men fall for strong, powerful women” kind of vibe,’ she says.
Well, isn’t that nice?
Huh.
I like that a lot.
Cal’s grinning, too. ‘Hell, yes they do.’
‘This is good,’ Mara muses aloud, still scrolling.
‘I can work with this. It’ll definitely help with the messaging.
You know what Lizzy was saying the other week about contrasts?
Like, the outcome of your on-screen journey, and the person you’ve become, needs to contrast as sharply as possible with the starting point.
‘So, yeah, if the press is working this angle that you’ve upgraded to a totally different relationship dynamic where your partner is fully supportive of you and wants you to shine, I’d say that’s very fucking helpful. And John Fuck Boy Russell can go fuck himself.’
I can’t resist. ‘John who?’ I ask sweetly, and Mara cackles so loud that someone from the next table twists their body around to see what’s going on.
‘You’re such a bitch.’ She shoots me an evil grin. ‘I knew I liked you.’
Cal takes my hand under the table and squeezes it. ‘I’m your biggest cheerleader, baby. You know I am. You are fucking spectacular, and I’ll shout that from the rooftops if they give me a mic.’
I lick my lips, and his gaze drops to my mouth. ‘I know you are, sweetie,’ I tell him.
‘Mara,’ he drawls, not taking his eyes off me, ‘don’t you have somewhere else to be right now?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Because I hear they have bedrooms in this place,’ he says. His eyes are dark and hungry, and his tone is low and rough, and all of it makes me shiver in the best way. ‘And I’m feeling the need to drag my girlfriend off to one of them.’