Alien Romance: Fall for a Cyborg (Sci-Fi Futuristic Alien Abduction Fantasy Space Warrior Romance) (Science Fiction Mystery Paranormal Urban Short Stories) (69 page)

Charlotte almost stumbled back upon the car. She touched her face. This face would be in all the magazines. She had never wanted to be famous. She had never wanted her face to be known by strangers. She had wanted a pleasurable, joy-filled life. And from what she had seen, famous people were stressed and hassled more often than not. She wanted nothing to do with it. She did not want to be famous.

But the choice had been taken from her.

She looked to Elliot. He cursed and shook his head.

***

Despite the conditions in which he had taken the picture, the photographer had known his trade. The magazine Charlotte now held, her mouth open in astonishment and horror, clearly showed Doctor Elliot Sanderson and Charlotte Moss standing together. Her lips were slightly parted as she looked up at him, and Charlotte was sure there was a hint of love and lust in her eyes. The doctor had moved toward her protectively, but he had been too late. The article itself was the usual smutty celebrity nonsense.
It seems Doctor Sanderson has found a new patient to dote on,
the article read. They had no real notion that she was really his patient, and for that she was thankful. They were just trying to sound snappy.
The billionaire doctor, writer, and all around playboy was seen at a charity function escorting one Charlotte Moss, a lawyer and divorcee. Do we smell love in the operating theater?
The readers were invited to email or Tweet their opinions.

“Trash,” Charlotte sighed.

But it was trash that had had an effect on her life. Her month-long break had a week left, but earlier today her boss had called her up and asked her if she would like another two weeks to compose herself. The tone of his voice was clear:
sort this out, quick, and then you can come back.
But how did she go about sorting it out? She looked out her window. Below her apartment building, paparazzi hovered. Some shot their cameras up at her. She swiftly shut the curtains.

It had been only two days since the charity function at which this had happened, and already the magazines had her name and her place of employment.

“Yes it is,” Simone replied.

Charlotte had almost forgotten she was on the phone with her friend.

She waited for the question, and soon enough it came: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yes, why? It should have been a simple question to answer, but the more Charlotte thought about it, the more she realized she did not have a definite reason. This had all happened too fast. She needed time to think. She had gone from flirting with and fucking a man to becoming a trashy news piece, slotted neatly between clothes advertisements and beauty tips.  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “It didn’t seem like such a big deal.”

“Dating a billionaire didn’t seem like a big deal to you?” There was a note of resentment and jealousy in her friend’s voice. “What planet do you live on, Charlotte? How can that not seem like a big deal?”

Charlotte shrugged, and then almost smiled to herself when she realized the futility of a shrug over the phone. “I have no idea,” she said. “Honestly, I just don’t know.”

Simone sighed. “Well, what are you going to do about it? You know what the best thing to do would be.”

“What’s that?”

“Never talk to Doctor Sanderson again and ignore the bloodhounds until they find another scent.”

Charlotte hung up soon after that, saying she had to make dinner. That was a lie. She’d already eaten. But Simone had voiced something that Charlotte did not want to admit to herself. She’d have to ditch Elliot. The thought made her feel sick and dirty. She couldn’t just ditch a man because they’d been photographed together. She liked him. She liked him a lot.

And yet he hadn’t called.

He’d dropped her home soon after the charity event. They hadn’t even gone inside. They’d just got back into the car and headed home. It had looked awful. And Elliot had been quiet and awkward the whole journey. Charlotte had not even tried to talk to him. And now here she was, sitting alone in her apartment, unable even to leave lest she be swarmed by the animals outside.

She walked to her bedroom and slumped down on her bed. They couldn’t take her bed from her, at least. They could try, but they would never take her moment-to-moment pleasures. She tried to focus her mind. She had dabbled in meditation and yoga. She tried to center her mind, to bring it to nothing but the comforting press of the mattress against her. She did not succeed in completely pushing everything from her mind. But she managed to quiet the background noise until she could close her eyes and sleep.

She slept soundly and didn’t dream. For that she was thankful.

***

She was less thankful when she was waked at three a.m. by the shrill ringing of her phone. She felt around for it in the dark and answered it without checking who it was, something she rarely did unless she was half-asleep. She woke instantly when she heard Elliot’s voice, the grogginess pushed aside for stark focus.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “We do. I suggest we start with how you have abandoned—”

“I’m outside your building,” he said. “My driver managed to lure the paparazzi away by claiming he had seen some famous woman – I don’t even know her name, ha-ha – down the street. But it won’t be long before they return. Can you buzz me up?”

“Okay,” Charlotte said.

She padded through her apartment in darkness and pressed the buzzer for the main door. Then she hung up the phone and went around the apartment turning on lights. She had fallen asleep in jeans and a t-shirt. She wouldn’t change for him; she wouldn’t get dressed up for the man who had ignored her for two frantic days.

A small knock came at the door, not at all the type of knock muscular, strong, confident Elliot Sanderson normally gave. She walked to the door and opened it. He looked her up and down, and then smiled cynically. Yes, she reaffirmed to herself. It was him.

He had the gall to smile at her again.

She clenched her fists around the edge of the door. Then, with a flash of anger that surprised even herself, she slammed the door in his face.

***

She expected him to walk away when she slammed the door in his face, and was angry at herself for the relief she felt when he didn’t. Instead, he knocked on the door again and whispered: “This is too important to waste time with childish tantrums.” His voice was hard, a teacher rebuking an unruly student. “You have misjudged me. I have not ignored you. Or if I have, it is because I have been working toward a solution that will bring us both pleasure, not harm. I do not wish harm on you. Just give me five minutes. You can time me if want.”

She tried not to be swayed by his words, but the cool logic in them (and the chance to see him again, the chance to be near him again, the chance to touch him again) made her open the door. “I’m timing you,” she said, though she was too tired to think about timing.

“Okay,” he said, and followed her into the apartment.

She led him to the couch and sat at the far end of it. He sat at the opposite end. “What have you been doing then?” she said.

He smiled at her again. She half-wished he would stop doing that. Every time he smiled at her she felt her body respond to him, as though there were something inside of her that reached out to something inside of him. It made her feel sick and connected and elated and scared all at once.

“I have been planning the most fun-filled week I can imagine,” he said. “Okay, so here is my plan. The hounds have sniffed us out.” Simone’s voice unwillingly came into Charlotte’s head at the familiar phrase
. I should end it.
But she didn’t. “The way I see it, we have two choices. The first is to hide from them. But that will probably make things worse. What these magazines don’t know, they’ll simply make up. They’ll tell any amount of lies to keep their readers amused. The second choice is to be seen out in public together, proud, an official couple. To that end I have organized a week of dates for us. Tomorrow, we will be attending the restaurant I took you to before, but this time as a couple. And then we will…” He reeled off the things they would do: art galleries, charity balls, plays.

Charlotte took a sip of the water she’d left on the coffee table earlier, and sighed. “And you have arranged all of this already?” she said.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“What makes you think I’ll agree?”

Elliot looked at her, as though gauging her. She tried to make her face impassive. In truth, she wanted to attend these events with Elliot, and not just because it might make their lives with the press easier. The rush she felt at the thought of being official with Doctor Elliot Sanderson was enough for her. But there was more. His public persona was all smiles and lighthearted jokes, and that was nothing like the man with the steady gaze and the commanding heart she had been with. She had seen beneath the public persona, and she liked it.

“I do not think you will agree,” he said. “I know you will agree. I can see into you, Charlotte. Perhaps that sounds strange. Perhaps it
is
strange. But it is also true. I can see into you and I know you wish to accompany me. You wish to be seen with me, but more than that, you wish to be with me. And I wish to be with you. Why should we lie to ourselves? Why should we look for reasons to deny what we both feel?”

Simone’s advice to leave him rang through Charlotte’s head, but she did not feel like heeding it. She moved across the couch and rested her head on Elliot’s chest. He stroked her hair and moved his forefinger over her ears, sending tickles through her whole body. She smiled up at him. “Let’s just stay like this for a while,” she said.

“I can’t stay long,” he said. “The paparazzi… Seeing us at a public event is one thing. Seeing me sneak from your apartment is quite another.”

“Then let’s stay like this for a minute,” Charlotte said. “Just a minute.”

They lay like that for a minute, but to Charlotte it felt much longer. She looked up at Elliot in the dark, his face only partially lit by the lamplight, his neck and chest shrouded in shadow. Then the minute was over, and she reached up and touched his face. “When will I see you again?” she said.

She had never felt like this, she was sure. Never. No one had ever made her feel this vulnerable and excited at once.

“Soon,” he promised, as he rose to his feet.

He cupped her face in his hands and pulled her lips toward his. After the kiss, he left the apartment. All she knew of him for a few moments were his receding footsteps, and then he was gone into the night.

Charlotte turned off the lights and returned to her bed. She closed her eyes and waited for sleep. But it wouldn’t come. She tried to find her center, her moment-by-moment appreciation of life, but that wouldn’t come either. She found herself thinking of the things she and Elliot would do, the places they would go, the drinks they would share, the pleasure they would experience together.

Her mind returned to that masculine, sensational husk in his voice, when he had bent her over the desk. That was so unlike her, all of this was so unlike her. She was discovering a part of herself she had not known existed.

But now she had discovered it, she would not let it go.

Simone would be angry that she was ignoring her advice, but she couldn’t just let Doctor Sanderson go; she wouldn’t just let him go.

***

The next morning, Elliot texted her to tell her he was going to pick her up from her apartment that evening. Charlotte knew exactly what that meant. The paparazzi hadn’t left her apartment yet. Some of them had left, but many of them still hung around her doors like hungry animals. She hadn’t left in the three days since the photograph had been taken and swiftly published, first online and then in magazine form. She knew if she followed Simone’s advice, if she cut off all ties with Elliot and told him to leave her alone, they would eventually move away. Some of them had already given up and had once again begun frequenting the bars and clubs where the reality-TV stars went.

But there was a stirring of excitement within her that wouldn’t let her take Simone’s advice. As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, she wanted to be photographed with Elliot if it meant they were an official couple. She knew she should detest herself for that. She didn’t want to become like those women in the newspapers and magazines. But she couldn’t help it. To be with Elliot, on a glamorous night out, with him, for all to see… it was more than she could have hoped for.

She was careful in selecting her outfit. She dressed herself in a dress she hadn’t worn in two years, and was thankful when she still fit into it. She squeezed her large breasts into the dress and applied makeup carefully. She felt as though she were shielding her face with the makeup, so she used more than usual. When she was finished, she barely recognized herself. Her face was a different shade, paler, and her eyes were black and daring. With a snort she wiped the heavy makeup away and reapplied the more delicate makeup she usually wore.

The day was waning and sunlight was being replaced by moon- and street-light. She sat on her couch and drank from a glass of wine. And then her phone began to ring. “It’s me,” Elliot said. “I’m coming in now. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Okay,” Charlotte said, not feeling herself capable of saying more.