CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jack
“Go to video. I wanna see you!” Nate demanded when he picked up the call. My heart fluttered at his request. I clicked on the video icon.
“Ahh, there you are!” he grinned, “Lookin’ good!”
“Hey handsome!” I greeted, unable to stop from smiling.
Even dressed down Nate Linden was a snack.
He appeared a little tired, and there was something different in the way he looked at me.
His ice blue eyes lingered a little longer, as if he’d finally given himself permission to eye fuck me in the way I’d always wanted him to.
A susurration of heat rushed over my skin.
“The interview went well, don’t you think?” I began. Nate was walking around his huge apartment and I took in the view behind him, of a high-spec open plan kitchen, and lounge area with floor to ceiling windows and views out over Manhattan.
“Yeah, I’m relieved to get the divorce announcement out there myself. I’m sure the press will continue to speculate though!”
“Announcing it during a live interview was a ballsy move. You okay?”
“I’m not done processing yet, but, yeah, I’ll be okay. The last few days have been a blur.”
“Well, I’m here for you mate. Whatever you need.”
“There’s an amazing sunset tonight,” Nate said, clearly not willing to linger on the subject of his divorce any longer. He turned the phone camera to show me.
“Whoa! What a view! Your place…hell, it’s like an interiors catalogue,” I gasped, impressed by his set up.
In the six months since we wrapped Nate and I had spoken on the phone and texted, but we’d hadn’t video called.
I was the one always making excuses…I didn’t want to see what Nate’s real life looked like…
I didn’t want to visualize what I couldn’t have. But things were different now.
“Gimmie a twirl,” I goaded. And he did, turning the camera, showing me the high ceilings and white walls covered in abstract art canvases.
“Amazing, huge, and airy, like a gallery,” I praised. “How many floors up are you?”
“I’m at the top. I own the whole of the eightieth floor.”
My jaw dropped open comically at hearing this. “Fuck me! You own the whole penthouse floor of a New York skyscraper?”
Nate slumped onto an L-shaped sectional couch and said, “Yeah, it’s so big. We’ve lived here for ten years…I’m thinking of selling it.”
“Really? Why?”
“Erik signed this place over to me as part of the settlement.”
“That was umm…generous!”
“Not really. On the list of the world’s richest architects Erik’s number four,” Nate revealed. “A multi-million-dollar penthouse is chicken feed to him.”
I gulped. I’d never considered Nate or his husband’s wealth, or the social circles they must have been a part of. It was another level.
“We used to throw huge parties, have friends and family to stay. The thought of living here alone,” he grimaced.
“This place feels too big, too remote…and the rooms are full of ghosts.” Nate paused for a moment and worried his hand over his mouth before admitting, “When I got back on Monday I, eh…discovered Erik moved his belongings out while we were in Paris. Maybe he knew the exposé was coming and he planned to be gone before I got back, but I arrived just as was leaving.”
“What a shit!”
“He had his new boy in tow. Cole had his own luggage.”
“Uh…”
“Yeah. I realized that Erik must have moved him in here while we were shooting in Toronto. They’d lived together for the six months I was away.”
“And you had no idea?”
“No clue at all,” Nate ran a hand over his face.
“I’m either too trusting or a fool. I haven’t decided which one yet!
” he said self-depreciatingly. An awkward silence fell between us.
I didn’t know what to say. If Nate was with me, I’d have given him a hug, taken him out dancing, anything to shift the blues, but we were five and a half thousand kilometres apart.
“You didn’t deserve to be treated like that,” I said weakly.
“Yeah, well, it’s over now, new page,” he said wanly. “I don’t want to get maudlin…tell me, what time is it there in London?” Nate enquired and I could tell that the new chipper tone was masking his sadness.
I checked my watch. “It’s nearly half-eleven,” I couldn’t hold in the yawn. It had been a long day. “I need to hit the hay soon. I’ve got a test shoot for Huntsman at ten-thirty tomorrow so I need my beauty sleep.”
“You’re modelling for Huntsman? Wow, I’m excited for you dude, and honestly, a little envious. Their suits are low-key cool, so well made.” He paused before saying, “Show me where you are. I wanna see your home.”
My renovated Georgian townhouse was in a leafy suburb of Richmond-Upon-Thames, on the outskirts of London.
I’ve always loved Georgian proportions, the plasterwork cornicing, and ceiling roses.
During the house renovation I’d had French doors fitted in my bedroom that led out onto a balcony that offered a view of the distant City of London, as well as the bend in the River Thames at Richmond.
At night, I saw the multi-coloured twinkling lights from buildings, street lights, and the warning beacon lights at the tops of the skyscrapers in the Docklands financial district.
“Oh wow, you’ve got a cool view too,” Nate purred appreciatively as I panned the phone camera. “You’re not as high-up as me!”
“I’m at the top of a hill, but my townhouse is just three floors.”
“Are you far from the city?”
“Thirty minutes by Tube to the West End, and I’ve got Richmond Park on my doorstep.
It’s wild parkland that used to be a hunting ground for kings.
I love to run there. We have deer roaming free in the woods, a couple of lakes and a botanical garden, lovely cafes, everything I could want,” I said enthusiastically.
“It sounds great. I should come visit. I’ve been to London a handful of times, but we stayed in the city and I didn’t see much, except some of the historical buildings, theatres, restaurants, and Erik’s latest project, of course.”
My thoughts went back to the event three years ago showcasing Thorne’s latest London skyscraper. I attended with my ex-boyfriend Raphael. I wondered belatedly why Nate wasn’t there—in turn enabling Erik to attempt, and fail to seduce me.
“You should come over and stay with me, seriously, it would be great. We should arrange it!” I said, then a fantastic idea popped into my head.
“We could meet in Berlin, and then you could come back with me to London, stay here—” I suggested, trying desperately to keep the longing from my voice.
I loved Berlin and wanted to share the city with my friend.
“I’ve never visited Berlin—always wanted to but my work is US centric…never had the time. I wish we were there longer than a couple of days…and not working!”
I lay back on my bed, holding the phone out.
“What about going to Berlin early and spending a few days doing the tourist thing? I speak German and I know the city really well. You need a break, right? I’ve got time…
we could go dancing!” I fizzed with excitement.
This was such was a great idea. I watched Nate keenly.
I hoped he’d agree to come over. I wanted to do ordinary things and have fun together. I wanted to dance with him.
Nate’s cerulean eyes sparkled as his gaze remained fixed on me. He bit his bottom lip in a flirty way that made my cock twitch, before saying,
“Yeah, yeah…I think I could swing it, let’s do this! We’re supposed to be there in seven days. What if I get a flight for this Sunday? I’d arrive on Monday. We’d have three days before the circus joins us on the Thursday. Can you do that?”
“Yeah, I have a dental check-up on Monday and a couple of auditions for parts I wasn’t really into.
I can cancel. Yes, let’s do this!” I enthused.
“There’s so much to do in Berlin. I’ll contact my agency and get Marcus to book rooms at the same hotel as the junket.
He’ll get us discount rates and we won’t have to move too far.
Argh! This is gonna be awesome!” I was buzzing with the possibilities of spending private time getting to know my now single friend more intimately!
Nate appeared just as excited about the idea as I was.
“What are you thinking?” I asked, my voice taking on a deeper, smokier tone.
“Let me see the rest of your bedroom,” he directed, and if I wasn’t mistaken there was a sultry growl in his voice.
I rolled off the bed and continued the tour.
I turned on a bedside lamp and angled the phone away from my face, then, panning my phone camera I gave Nate a tour of my bedroom.
My bedroom was a calming space, the walls were decorated in cream and silver grey, and a luxury Cornish grey velvet carpet was laid underfoot because London is freezing for seventy percent of the year and I loved walking around barefoot.
The room was tidy and organized, just the way I liked it.
I proudly showed off my amazing super-king bed, and with the number of pillows on it, it was pretty obvious I was a snuggler.
Gorgeous framed male nude pen and ink sketches were on the wall above the bed.
A steamer trunk at the foot of the bed was, between you and me, where I kept my sex toy collection and other kinky stuff I’d purchased or been gifted over the years.
Images flashed into my mind of how glorious Nate would look on my massive bed, his ass in the air, pleading and whimpering, so desperate to be taken.
How long had it been since he’d had a good dicking down?
“So, what do you think of my boudoir?” I enquired.
“I like it. I like your décor aesthetic, masculine and understated...comfortable…and tidy, you know I like tidiness.” I did know. When we’d shared a trailer for the shoot, we’d discovered we shared a need to control our environment, so were both obsessively tidy.
“Yeah. Clutter and mess drive me insane. Remember the woman you saw me with in the photo on my office book case, that’s my bestie, Saskia Jones.”