by Celia Crown
“I want to explain,” Aiden rubs his thumb across my knuckle. “Give me a chance to explain everything to you.”
I wiggle my fingers out of his hand. He simply tightens them, and my back is warming through the shirt. The cool evening air settles over his abnormally hot frame, and it’s protecting me from the nipping chilliness.
“You left,” it’s easier to say it out loud than I expected, “That’s it.”
His fingers hold mine too firmly, “I never wanted to leave you.”
It takes a lot from me to get out of his arms. I instantly miss the feeling of being cradled by him. His smooth words, the beginning of another round of lies, and my stupid naïve heart craves to be handed to him again.
For the sake of my mental health, I don’t want to hear his excuses.
“It doesn’t matter,” I sniff away the itchiness in my nose.
It matters. It could be the closure that I need to move on from this man. I’m too coward to take it since ninety-percent of the probability is against me; the risk is too high for my emotional turmoil.
“It matters,” he echoes my thoughts, “You matter to me.”
I whimper shakily, curling my nails into my palms and concentrating on the prickling discomfort. It’s safer to look at the latch on the door and read the license plate on the bottom. It holds back just the slightest amount of unraveling in my heart.
“We will talk later, but only when you are ready.”
He’s considerate but is still a very domineering man. He’s a walking contradiction; he can call me by the endearment that he always uses and swear up a storm, and it’s so conflicting it makes me wonder if he’s mad.
Usually, his tone and his eyes express which side he is on.
And with this, he’s not letting it go.
Chapter Four
Aiden
Turns out, Violet was still not ready by the time we packed at the end of the two and a half weeks.
She remained professional, and so did I. Out of respect for her, I didn’t bring out anything from the past, nor did I corner her again. I want her to be comfortable around me, and I was going to scare her off if I continue to come off too strong and too overbearing.
Little by little, she did lower her guard around me as more photoshoots went by. Maybe it was because she was able to stand my presence or the fact that I had her favorite drink.
It’s a routine we established; I would knock on her door in the morning since she never puts her alarm on no matter how many times she said she would, but she always ended up forgetting, and I would give her the morning dose of strawberry milk. Afternoon comes, and the only way I would give another bottle to her was after she ate her lunch; heaven knows her irregular schedule is fucking with her. After dinner, she would get another one as dessert before she’s off to bed.
A slow start, but she’s not a hissing and hackle-raised kitten anymore. Violet is still skittish about my motives, and I have made them very clear; I still want her, and after she gives me a chance to explain, I will still want to put a wedding ring on her finger.
However, Violet is remarkably normal compared to the first day she saw me again.
She still talks to me, smile with those adorable little dimples and the glow of her bright green eyes. But she holds herself in a certain way, and she treats me like any other models.
I don’t want that.
I want to be special, and I am special to her; the look in her eyes when she sees me is still filled with love and hope, the hope that one day, I would come back to her, and I want to make sure she knows that I never truly left.
She has my heart, and I was going to come back for her.
Nevertheless, Violet isn’t ready yet.
“Sweetheart,” I whisper in her ear after I come from behind her, she almost jumps out of her skin and turns around with wide, green eyes.
“W-what— you scared me!” She breathes while slapping her heart.
“You should be more aware of your surroundings,” I scowl lightly.
She pouts, “I’m safe here; there’re a lot of people.”
There are people roaming around the entrance of the private plane. Other models are filing in and looking for their seats while Violet and the other two owners oversee the luggage being placed in the exact placement order as requested to make sure that nothing gets tumbled over and get crushed.
These are expensive things, and they hold a lot of sentimental value to Violet, but she has a habit of not letting things go.
“Come,” I said, taking her by the waist and her useless sputter gets ignored while I nod towards Thomas and Donna.
I think they picked up something between Violet and me by now. I’m not exactly subtle when it comes to her, and I want others to know that she’s off-limits.
“But, the bags—”
“Are fine,” I finish for her, patting her waist, and she obediently takes the first step up from the stairs.
She looks back down to the luggage, and I close the exit behind her with my body. I mimic her steps, and she has no choice but to move forward.
The whole plane is big; it fits everyone while there are more empty seats. I steer her away from the other models and push her down on a two-seat section by the window. She gets the window seat, and I take the one right beside her.
“You know, there are other seats…” she trails off after a second as her confidence slacks.
“I’m aware,” I said simply, I reach over to her side, and she squeaks quietly as I clip on her seatbelt.
I glance up, and her green eyes are cagey. She scoots back, and I follow her movements. Our distance stays the same, and when she can’t back away anymore, I cup her jaw and steadily turn her head to the side.
Kissing her soft cheek and breathing in her sweet scent gets me a whimper of my name. It takes a lot from me to bring a stop to my actions. I can’t help my addiction to her; it’s a sin that I’m willing to pay any price to for.
She blushes furiously, “You can’t do that.”
“Why not,” I huskily grumble, “It’s a greeting.”
Violet bristles indignantly, and I wish she can see how adorable she is, “I saw you three hours ago, and you could have done it then!”
“Then, I will be sure to kiss you whenever I see you,” I lick my lips and smirk at her head shakes.
“Wait—no, that’s not what I meant!” She shouts in a hushed tone to be sure that no one can eavesdrop.
“What do you mean?” I press, threading our fingers together as I lean back into my seat.
The airplane is pumping air conditioning, slowly bringing down Violet’s body heat, and I dig out a jacket from my carryon bag. While she’s busy wiggling her tiny fingers out of my grasp, I slip the huge jacket over her thighs.
She stops her useless fidgeting and takes the jacket with a small thank you slipping out of her plump lips. Violet brings the jacket closer to her chin and drapes it across her chest. She didn’t bring warm clothes on the plane, and I am too observant to not notice that she is not good at taking care of herself.
More reasons for me to look after her. I’m the only one who is capable of it.
“Darling boy, you are a loyal dog. Aren’t you?”
I look up to see Thomas giggling behind his hand; the feathery coat comes off his shoulders as he smiles at Violet and me.
“Wherever Violet is, you’re never far behind.”
I cock an eyebrow at him. He doesn’t have to say it for me to know because I’m conscious of my body. It wants to be near Violet after two years of not being able to touch her. It’s excruciating to see the pictures my bodyguard had taken of her, and it wouldn’t be enough to soothe the yearning in my heart.
I hate being touched; only Violet has the privilege to do it, and I make it a point to every clothing stylist that I work with that I do not want to be touched unless it is absolutely necessary for the clothes to be fixed.
“Don’t look so grouchy, darling boy. You’ll get wrinkles, and
you’re too handsome for that,” Thomas sighs and seats himself in front of Violet.
He crosses his legs, “I have to say, this is the first time I have seen someone who’s this determined.”
I furrow my brows in confusion, “What do you mean?”
“Tommy—” Violet shakes her head hastily, leaping forward in her seat and slapping on his knee.
Thomas hushes her and smiles pleasantly while I kick my bag to the underside of my seat when Donna comes to sit on the remaining seat.
“Our pretty flower here is such a popular girl, always in high demand,” Thomas croons, batting a wink at Violet before focusing on me.
I grip her fingers under the jacket. A tick at the back of my neck warns me about whatever I’m about to hear isn’t the best thing and part of me already knows what it is.
“Models come and go, and we get some who are too enamored by Violet. Really, who could blame them?” Thomas sings, “If I wasn’t openly gay, I would have taken her to my home.”
“Tommy!” Violet whines.
“What?” he bats his eyelashes, “I work fast, my flower.”
He continues, and my face gets darker and darker, “You should see the gifts our models give her. They’re all so expensive too.”
“Is that right,” I grit my teeth and snap my head towards Violet who shrinks under my gaze.
“Did you accept them?”
Thomas scoffs, “Of course, she did. It’s the polite thing to do, and they are beautiful gifts.”
He doesn’t notice the tension between Violet and me, but I could see the nervousness etched on her pretty face. Her small hand shakes in mine, and I rub circles over her knuckles, but that only makes her more jittery.
“Our dear Violet doesn’t know how to reject offers, so she ends up having dinner with them.”
Thomas is pouring oil on open flames, and I am trying to not let it burn on my precious sweetheart’s skin with my possessiveness.
It isn’t right for me to be angry over the fact she got dates from other men, but I’m more annoyed with myself for not being able to go back in time and change the course of history.
She has the right to move on from me, but only I know the truth, so Violet is not going to go on any more dates. In her misguided mindset, she doesn’t think she did anything wrong by going out with those men for a simple dinner.
To me, that is a massive offense, and I will not tolerate it any longer.
My bodyguard never reported any of this to me in his daily reports, maybe something unbalanced the time when he was supposed to be watching Violet. Either way, I would not be using his service anymore.
“I see,” I said slowly.
Violet tries her hardest to avoid my eyes.
Donna interrupts, “Ah, speaking of dates, Domonique Valentia has a message for you. He wants to know when you would be free for dinner.”
Violet chokes and Thomas squeals while clapping excitedly. There is nothing exciting about another man trying to breach on what is mine, and that Valentia man got one taste of my little Violet’s angelic halo and he’s back for more, like an addict. I know the feeling.
“She’s never going to be free.” I settle this conversation with no more room for anyone to argue with me.
The cruel man in me demands that I remind Violet what it is to be mine, and it hisses at me to chain her up so that she would never be able to step foot out of my sight. It’s the caveman’s way of thinking, but I will revert back to my primal instincts and fuck the thought of freedom and independence out of her.
She doesn’t need anymore. I can take care of her. I have money, and I have a home. She’s going to be well looked after with the best protection she can get. Anything she wants is hers, just as long as it’s not leaving me.
“Our dearest Violet is a pure soul. She doesn’t have it in her to say no to people. I have seen our models take advantage of that, but at least they feed her before dropping her off at the agency,” Thomas nods.
“She has me. Violet doesn’t have to say no because I will be there to do so.”
She shakes my hand, “S-stop saying stuff like that!”
But I refuse to budge from my stance. “It’s the truth,” I clench my jaw and glare into her frantic green eyes. “You have me.”
Thomas gasps, “Oh my. Do I sense some history between you two?”
“No!” Violet coughs.
“Yes,” I affirm.
She successfully wrings her hand out of mine and jerks away from me; her shoulders push against the plane as the plane tilts in mid-air.
“I have been suspicious for a while now,” Thomas looks over to Donna, who isn’t paying him any attention as she types on her computer.
One less person in this conversation is better. I don’t need anyone butting into our business.
“You seem to have prior knowledge about her peculiar love for strawberry milk,” Thomas comments.
Violet stammers, “A lot of people know that.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, my dear,” Thomas wags his glittered nail, “Those who pay attention know.”
“Um, Mr. Hart pays attention.”
I shoot her a fierce glance to let her know that I am not pleased with the way she addressed me. It’s too formal and too strange coming from her melodic voice. I want to bring my name out and make her say it with proudness.
She gets the message, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Hmm,” Thomas taps his chin, “He also knows you’re allergic to peaches.”
“He… I told him.” Violet clears her throat.
Thomas rolls his eyes, “Oh please, dear girl. I have been in this line of work for far too long. I know when someone is not telling the truth.”
She purses her lips, and I could see the thoughts flying through her mind right now, her expressive eyes are the gate to every emotion.
“Donna and I didn’t even know you have a peach allergy.”
Violet shrugs, “It’s no big deal. I just avoid things with peaches in them. There isn’t a lot of food that I eat with fruits in them, and I’m more careful when we stay in tropical areas.”
“Honey, you need to be more than careful. We’re going to Bora Bora. It’s a tropical place, and I know fruit juices drip everywhere.” Thomas warns strictly, “I want you to be on guard.”
“Tommy,” she laughs, somewhat more relaxed, “You talk as if I’m going into a battle.”
“The battle of your life,” he corrects as the plane makes through another round of turbulence. “Aiden can give you CPR if you’re choking.”
“That’s not how it works,” she mumbles, tucking her head under my jacket and speaking over the thick material.
“I’m going to sleep. I don’t want to have you grilling me anymore.”
He rolls his eyes and taps Violet’s knee twice, “Oh, that’s not grilling. You haven’t seen me pull all my experience in information extraction.”
She groans. The sound is muffled. “I can’t wait.”
I unclip my seatbelt and stretch up from the seat. I rub her hair at the back of her head. “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”
She doesn’t say anything back, but Thomas’s girlish smile gleaming with such unaltered glee makes me question whether his thoughts are pure or sinful right now.
I move to the back of the plane and trace all the labels in the drawers. Some of the models have already fallen asleep while some are either socializing or doing their own things. I take out two neatly packaged blankets, holding them in my hand and find my way back to my seat.
One model is crouching down while doing stretches; I dodge his leg while a crack in my neck soothes the ache in my muscles.
Days after days of working nonstop can be exhausting, but we had some days where everyone could explore when we were in our former destination. It was nice of Donna and Thomas to not have our weeks booked into insanity like some of the other agencies.
It’s all about compromise and attention to details. I ne
ver sign a contract for a job without securitizing every word on the document. It’s too risky, and I do not want to be bounded by another agency, I only want to work with Violet from now on.
I sit back into the seat, and everyone is also doing their own thing. Donna is still on her computer with her glasses perched on her nose, Thomas is flipping through a magazine filled with semi-nude models, and I should not be surprised to find my sweetheart curled into a ball with her sock-clad toes peaking from the bottom of my jacket.
I can feel eyes on me as I take the sleeping girl from her curled position. She drops onto my lap, and her legs take the spot where she was sitting. Then I lay the first blanket over her, covering her small body along with my jacket to keep her warm from the cold plane.
The plane has to blast out air conditioning to regulate the oxygen, but it’s somewhat chilly for me, and I’m usually fine with the coldness. I have on an insulated leather jacket on, and the cold doesn’t bother me once I got used to it. Her body heat helps as she sleeps with her head on my thigh, but her cheek is cold when I stroke her skin.
One blanket isn’t enough. I throw over the other one and watch it fold to the shape of her body. I was going to use it under her head just in case she’s not comfortable, but this works too.
I brush her hair and cup the back of her head to bring her closer to my hip. Her nose buries into my pants, and she sighs with a small adjustment to her position.
Even asleep, her body wants to be close to me as it knows that I provide the maximum warmth.
“You should take her on a date first before you do something so intimate, my handsome boy,” Thomas whispers with his magazine showcasing an underwear model.
“We did more than dates,” I nonchalantly said.
He pauses with wide eyes, “What? No, no way.”
I don’t know what conclusion he picked up from my words, but nothing I have said is a lie, and anyone with two brain cells can draw together the picture that Violet and I are intimately involved.
A photographer and a model working together for the first time shouldn’t know the personal details of each other, and I shouldn’t be doing things that will cause a misunderstanding.
