8. BELLA
8
BELLA
I didn’t know what was going on with Chris. It was like we’d traveled back in time, and things were the way they used to be when we were still together. He was raw and open and vulnerable, telling me things he would never have told me wearing his suit of armor like he had yesterday.
But today, something was different with him. He was nostalgic, looking back to the past, letting himself drown in the history of Monaco and I wondered if he felt the same—drowning in his own past.
I didn’t feel at liberty to ask. Even though things felt like it was the past and things were the way they used to be, it still wasn’t exactly like that. He was still guarded, avoiding questions. He was still the Chris Blackwood who had just walked away from what we could have been.
On the way back down the hill, Chris took me to an old, small café tucked away in one of the narrow streets. Wooden tables were scattered outside, with striped umbrellas and a charming, rustic feel. The stone facade of the building was covered in ivy and the smell of freshly baked croissants made my stomach rumble.
We sat down, and in perfect French, Chris ordered us coffee and croissants.
Why did he have to be so attractive? It was getting harder and harder not to remember all the reasons I’d fallen for him in the first place all those years ago. His love for the small details, the history of a place, the real reason it existed. And then his commanding presence, the way he took control and he was always in charge.
I had to focus on the reasons I didn’t like him.
He’d abandoned me.
Without an explanation, a reason.
He’d thrown everything we’d had away and he hadn’t even looked back.
I cleared my throat and bit into the croissant, groaning when it melted in my mouth.
“This has to be the best croissant I’ve ever had.”
“You should try their French Toast.”
“I’ll have to come back. I love French Toast.”
“I remember,” Chris said with a grin.
“Well… not your French Toast. I remember distinctly you burned it.”
Chris gasped in mock horror. “Hey, that was one time! And I was distracted by you hogging all the kitchen space.”
I laughed. My little kitchen back then had barely been big enough for one person, but Chris and I hadn’t minded being pushed up against each other. “If you can’t work with what you have…”
“The kitchen just wasn’t big enough for the both of us and my cooking prowess,” Chris said with a sniff.
I rolled my eyes with a giggle. “Your cooking genius? I seem to recall you setting off the fire alarm with this so-called gourmet breakfast and the fire department had to help us get it to stop.”
“That was a minor miscalculation,” Chris said tightly. “I wasn’t aware that eggs could actually catch fire.”
I laughed. “You learn something every day, huh?”
“Well, you still ate what we could salvage, even though it tasted like shit,” Chris said with a grin. “If that’s not love…”
I froze at the word, but he wasn’t wrong. I’d loved him so much, I’d overlooked every flaw. The small ones and the big ones.
“I didn’t have a choice,” I countered, refusing to let this conversation get too serious. “I wasn’t going to starve to death because you can’t cook. Besides, I had to avoid you sulking all morning.”
“Sulking!” Chris cried out.
“Man-child tantrums,” I teased.
“You found it endearing,” he challenged, his charming grin back in place and it tugged at my heart in a way it really shouldn’t have.
“Endearing isn’t the word I would have used…” I was keeping composure. Good. “But, you know, nostalgia has a way of blurring the truth.”
Chris chuckled, and the atmosphere shifted. “Yeah, it does.” His smile faded into something gentler and his eyes locked on mine. My breath caught in my throat and I swallowed hard, looking down at my coffee. When Chris reached across the table and put his hand on mine, I didn’t pull away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and finally, he let go.
I didn’t know what he was sorry for. Letting go now, or letting go back then.
When breakfast was finished, Chris paid and we left, walking back to the yacht.
I had to take care of the staff, although I knew that they would have been fine without me. They were a good team and I was really just more to make sure everything ran smoothly with events. The everyday rhythm of the yacht was one that we all knew.
The atmosphere between us hadn’t changed. The tension still hung between us, clinging to us both, drawing me back into the past. Chris kept talking about a time when things were simpler, and I had to admit that I missed that time, too—the time things were simpler between the two of us.
Soon, we would be away from the old town of Monaco and back between the yachts, back between the rich and famous and then Chris and I wouldn’t be equals anymore. He would be my boss, the owner of the yacht, and I would be the head of staff. And everything in the past would fall right back to the way it was.
I suddenly didn’t want any of that to happen—I didn’t want to go back to the way things were. Not yet. Being here in Monaco-Ville, away from the rest of the pressures surrounding the yacht show felt like we were in a bubble together and I wasn’t ready for this bubble to burst.
“Chris,” I started, slowing down. He stopped and turned to me with questions in his eyes. “I…” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to put any of it into words. So I took a step forward and kissed him.
For a second, he froze, not expecting this. But then his arms closed around me, and he kissed me back.
He pulled me into the shadows of an alleyway and we were all over each other. His hands roamed my body. He squeezed my breast before he pushed his hand under my shirt, tugging the cup of my bra down and kneading and massaging me with his naked palm against the skin of my breast.
I gasped into his mouth when he grinded his cock against me, hard and ready. It made me shiver—I wanted him. I wanted his body to cover mine, his lips on my skin, and his cock buried deep inside me.
I reached down between us and rubbed my hand along his pants, feeling the length of his cock before I cupped his balls.
“Bella,” he moaned, breathing hard in my ear. My body was on fire and I was ready to throw all caution to the wind.
But Chris pulled away. We were both breathing hard, his lips parted, his blue eyes dark with desire when he looked at me.
“We can’t do this,” he said. His deep voice was hoarse but his words cut me.
I swallowed hard. “Right.” He was the guy who’d left me a couple of weeks ago without a goodbye. He was the guy who’d left me all those years ago without a reason. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“No, please. Don’t be sorry. It’s not you, it’s—”
“Please don’t placate me with the it’s-not-you-it’s-me line,” I said, cutting him off. I stepped away and fixed my bra, tugging my clothes so that everything was in its place again. “Let’s just get back to the yacht, okay? This was my mistake.”
“Bell,” Chris said, but I started walking down the pathway toward Port Hercules again.
Eventually, he followed.
The tension was thick between us now. It prickled on my skin, made it harder to breathe. I felt like an idiot for letting my emotions take over when I should have known Chris didn’t want me.
I wasn’t sure what he did want from me—why bring me out here and tell me all these things, call me Bell, make me feel like things used to be, only to leave me hanging when I acted on it? But this was what Chris was like. He opened up to me, only to leave me hanging.
Maybe it was all a part of his game and I was the fool who believed that I’d seen who he truly was.
Maybe I’d been the fool who’d loved an act all along.
When we got to the yacht, I turned to him.
“Thank you for breakfast,” I said tightly.
“I want to talk—”
“I’ll make sure that Miss Talbot is taken care of tomorrow morning,” I added, reminding him of his plus-one.
The reminder that she was coming looked like it jarred Chris, but I had to use the reminder, too. He could very well be sleeping with someone else tomorrow night.
It was better that he’d pushed me away now. Otherwise, I would feel more used than ever. He’d done me a favor, really.
I just had to keep telling myself to see it that way.
“Thank you,” Chris said. He glanced at his watch. “I guess I should get going.”
I nodded curtly and turned on my heel.
“Bell…” Chris called after me.
I stopped and looked over my shoulder.
“Chris,” I said and sighed. “Don’t call me that.”