Beauty in the Breakdown V: Feeling Good, Chapter 3
Title: Beauty in the Breakdown V - Feeling Good
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlollie
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: An expansion of Chlollie post-Warrior
Timeline: Season 9
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary: Chloe’s confidence soars as her relationship with Ollie goes public.
Feedback: …bring it, bebe. :)
Written for sxymami0909, based on my favourite song on the Chlollie playlist she sent me. :-)
Awesome banner by jennyspring. Thanks again, babes, and I hope you had a great birthday!
Read previous chapter here.
Read story from the beginning here.
Dragonfly out in the sun, you know what I mean, don't you know
Butterflies all havin' fun, you know what I mean
Sleep in peace when day is done
And this old world is a new world
And a bold world
For me…
- Feeling Good, by Muse
Chapter 3
“Oliver, darling!” cooed a smartly coiffed middle-aged redhead in a British accent as they were ushered into Curbishley Hall. Oliver smiled and embraced the older woman, who blew elaborate air kisses against his cheek - no doubt to make sure her scarlet lipstick stayed in place, Chloe thought with a smirk.
“Good too see you again, Marguerite,” he replied warmly.
“Good to see you, too, pet,” she grinned, and glanced at Chloe. “And I see you brought a ladyfriend.”
A ladyfriend? It took all Chloe’s self-control not to gigglesnort.
“Indeed,” Oliver said, and placed a warm hand at her waist. “Chloe, I’d like you to meet Marguerite St Clair, our hostess for this evening. Marguerite, this is Chloe Ann Sullivan; my very significant other, trusted colleague and all-around partner.”
Chloe’s almost swooned at his glowing introduction. The best she'd expected was Chloe, my girlfriend, but to know that Oliver thought so much more of her - and seemed determined that others know it, too - was thoroughly heartwarming.
Marguerite St Clair silently tilted her head and studied her with a curious eye. “This one’s different,” she finally said.
“You got that right,” Oliver murmured with a grin and tightened his hand on her waist. “She’s definitely a keeper.”
“And she’s standing right here,” Chloe added dryly.
“Ooh, feisty little mare, isn’t she?” Marguerite chuckled, and nudged Oliver in the ribs. “Nice. I like this one.”
“Er - ‘This One’ can hear you!” she exclaimed.
To her surprise, Marguerite St Clair threw back her head and laughed before pulling her close to her ample bosom in a warm hug. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Chloe,” she said evenly. “I hope this blond giant is treating you well?”
Chloe blinked. “Uh - yes…yes, he is,” she said amused. “He spoke very highly of you too, and was adamant that we support you here today.”
“Yeah, we wouldn’t miss it for the world, Marguerite,” he added.
Marguerite snorted. “Ha! I believe you, pet - even if you are well over an hour late,” she said, pouting delicately. “Whatever kept you?”
A guilty flush stained Chloe’s cheeks, and Oliver wasn’t faring much better. Marguerite’s brows rose and a knowing look crossed her face.
“You know what? Forget I asked,” she drawled in amusement, and ushered them both into the grand hall.
** *
“Marguerite’s amazing!” Chloe exclaimed as they stood by an opulent gilded window drinking cocktails. Their hostess had spent a good ten minutes with them, and in that short time Chloe had been impressed with the wealth of her knowledge and business acumen.
Oliver grinned and raised his wineglass to his lips. “She was one of the first business associates to ever cut through my bullshit,” he explained. “I made the fundamental mistake of thinking she was just the hanger-on wife of a wealthy shipping magnate. Five minutes into the meeting I realised she was the wealthy shipping magnate. I have a lot of respect for her.”
“Well, she definitely knows how to pull a crowd,” Chloe observed as prominent members of Metropolis’s elite scene flitted past.
“She’s not the only one,” Oliver murmured huskily, his eyes running over her appreciatively. “You look stunning, Chloe.”
“She smiled indulgently. “Why thanks, honey, I’m glad you think so.”
“And I’m not the only one who does,” he pointed out. “You’re getting the attention of every man in this room, and some of the women.” He smiled, a lazy grin than looked more like a smirk. “I feel like the luckiest guy on the planet.”
Chloe blushed and gave him a cheeky smile. “So you agree that going back for the make-up was a good idea?”
Just then a shadow fell across her and her view was obstructed by a statuesque raven-haired female in a short black dress.
“Oliver Queen, what a surprise,” drawled the Glamazon, edging Chloe out of the way and staring Oliver straight in the eye.
Chloe detested her on sight.
“Not really; I’m a close friend of Marguerite’s, she sent a handwritten invite,” he said smoothly. “The real surprise is how you managed to get in here, Elise. So whose arm are you hanging off this week?”
Elise bristled and stuck out her pneumatically enhanced chest.
“Could have been your arm, but you never returned my calls,” she said silkily.
“Yeah, that would be an indicator for most folks,” he mused, and Chloe couldn't hold back a grin - a fact which didn't go unnoticed by Elise.
“So what are you doing these days…” she glanced down at Chloe with piercing blue eyes “…besides that?” she finished with a sneer.
Chloe gasped at the harsh jab, and Oliver’s eyes narrowed into slits.
“Give it up, Elise,” he growled, but Elise’s eyes were like ice as she went for the jugular.
“I mean, I heard you were slumming it, but this…?” she waved a hand in Chloe’s direction and gave a delicate laugh “…this puts the down in down-market.”
Chloe felt Oliver’s hand tighten around her waist and his eyes darkened with rage. “And you wonder why I never called you back,” he grated. He turned to her and smiled. “Chloe? Something stinks around here; let’s move to a less pungent section of the room.”
“With pleasure, honey,” she said with a grin, and turned to smile sweetly at the Glamazon. “Alice, was it? Lovely to meet you."
They walked away from the furiously scowling Elise - at least, she would have been scowling if the botox hadn’t frozen her forehead. Chloe couldn’t resist resting her hand on Oliver’s back and raising her middle finger. She glanced back and grinned at Elise’s slack-jawed gasp, happy that her not-so-subtle parting shot had hit home.
“Geez, what did you do for company before I came along?” she asked as soon as they were out of earshot.
Oliver sighed. “Spent my time with wasters like that, I’m afraid.”
She nodded seriously. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Why you turned into a slobbering drunk. If I had to put up with company like that, I’d drown myself in alcohol, too.”
“Hey!” he exclaimed, looking wounded.
She laughed and patted his hand. “Don’t worry, baby; you’ve got me now, you’re gonna be jes’ fine.”
“You know, you’re lucky we’re in a public place,” he whispered against her ear as his hand discreetly cupped her bottom. “If we were alone, I’d have had to spank you for that remark, or at least tickle an apology out of you.”
“Promises, promises!” she grinned, and yelped when he lightly smacked her ass.
“Minx,” he chuckled. “Now behave; I need to go circulate.”
Chloe watched him walk away with a smile on her face. Damn, but she just couldn’t get over how gorgeous and sexy he was. He flitted through the other patrons standing almost head and shoulders above everybody else, making conversation and being witty and engaging.
He was awesome. And he was all hers, she thought smugly. And even though he’d fully satisfied her this afternoon, her loins tingled in hungry longing at the mere sight of him.
A gnawing rumble from her tummy made her acutely aware that she was hungry for more than just Oliver. She ambled over to the hors d’ouerves tables and leaned forward with interest, studying the delicate edible arrangements and wondering which ones to pick when a familiar voice filtered through to her hearing.
“…well of course she’s gunning for the food, Marie. Have you seen the backside on her? It didn’t build itself, you know.”
A ripple of giggles followed, to which another voice added, “I’m not one to bitch, but that hair is an apology. I mean, come on. The Bob is so Nineties. Didn’t she ever hear of weaves?”
“My thoughts exactly,” murmured Elise. “And you’d think she’d spare us the sight of those arms. They visually offend me.”
“You’re not the only one,” derided another. “I’m still trying to decide if those unsightly blemishes are pimples or pockmarks.”
The group snickered again like whinnying mares. Chloe swallowed, tears gathering in her eyes at the caustic remarks being directed her way.
“I must be honest, though; her dress is to die for...” one of them conceded.
Chloe exhaled slowly. At least there appeared to be one decent person fighting her corner.
“…or at least it would be on a woman about six inches taller.”
And it was back to the barbs again.
“Well, you can’t blame the midgets for wanting to look their best,” came an acidic reply from one of the bunch.
“I know, right?” she heard Elise condescendingly. “Poor thing. Heaven knows what Oliver sees in her; but then again, this is a Charity event.”
More giggles. Chloe swallowed and pulled her outstretched hand away from the table, feeling suddenly chilly. She knew she ought not to let the opinions of a few vapid bitches upset her, but it was hard not to be affected by their obvious venom.
“Ciaou, bella,” called Oliver as he appeared behind her and kissed her on the cheek. “Have you had something to eat?”
“I’m not hungry,” she answered hollowly.
“You should be, you haven’t had a thing to eat all day,” he admonished. “Now, I know you girls always watch your waistlines on days out, but…Chloe?” he queried, concern marring his brow as he saw the hurt look in her eyes. “Chloe, what is it?”
She clasped her arms. “I just…don’t feel comfortable here…”
“You were fine when I left,” he said sternly. “Has something happened?”
"Nothing serious," she said with as much reassurance as she could muster.
He didn't bite.
“See this?” he said, pointing to his raised left brow. “It's a finely tuned bullshit-o-meter. Now what's up?”
She sighed and gave in. “Botox Barbie and her cookie-cutter cronies seem to find my presence here somewhat…amusing.”
“Amusement?” he echoed, a smile forming on his lips. “Is that what you think it is?”
“Well, what would you call it when mean-spirited people stand around talking about you in hushed tones and laughing disdainfully?”
He shrugged. “I’d call it jealousy.”
Chloe snorted. “So they’re jealous that I somehow managed to snag the big blond billionaire, is that it?”
“Chloe, they’re jealous because they know you outclass them in every way,” he responded. “And you didn’t ‘snag’ me, I asked you out. There’s a difference.”
“They don’t know that,” she retorted. “They think I hooked my claws into you and I’m riding your coattails, holding on for dear life until you decide to cut me loose.”
He frowned. “And it bothers you, what these people think about you and me?”
“It’s not just her, it’s…” she stopped, realising the real source of her pain.
“It’s what?” Oliver asked, his eyes narrowing. “Talk to me, woman. Who else said something to upset you?”
A small smile played at the corners of her mouth. One of the things she loved most about her relationship with Oliver was the fact that it was built on honesty. They talked about everything, no matter how trivial or nonsensical it seemed, and it always bonded them closer together.
“He didn’t upset me,” she explained. “More like annoyed me, but-”
“He?” Oliver echoed, and his eyes widened. “Aaaah. This is Clark, isn’t it?”
She sighed. “He said something, and I didn't give it much thought until Glamourpuss and her goons basically...validated it.”
“What did he say?” he asked quietly.
She took a deep breath, remembering his scathing words. “He implied that someone like you could never be interested in someone like me.”
Oliver scoffed. “What does Clark know about me?” he retorted. “What does Clark know about relationships, even? More to the point, what does Clark know about anything?”
She frowned and thought for a second. “All very valid questions,” she finally mused.
He took her hands. “Clark knows nothing about me about us,” he said gently. “He’s always been myopic in his approach to life, and his narrow-minded views reflect that.”
He lifted her chin with one finger and gazed into her eyes. "Chloe, I’m more than just interested in you; I’m crazy about you. You stimulate my body, my mind and my soul. No over woman has ever done that, and I don’t think anyone else ever will. Got it?”
Happy tears pricked her eyelids and she smiled and nodded. “Got it.”
He grinned warmly. “Good. And as for the Glamourpuss,” he added, nodding across the room to where Elise stood pouting with folded arms, “…she’s synthetic.”
“Synthetic?”
“Fake from head to toe. Should I elaborate?”
She nodded. “Please.”
He took a deep breath. “Here we go: the hair isn’t hers, the breasts certainly aren’t hers, and that tan looks like she raided it from the bottom of the Hawaiian Tropic bargain bucket. She’s had collagen fillers in her lips, botox in her forehead, and I’m pretty sure she’s wearing coloured contacts. Should I go on?”
“No need!” she gasped. “Wow. I didn’t realise all that, but now that you mention it...”
He nodded. “Exactly. More plastic than plasma. You, on the other hand…” his arms went around her waist from behind and he dropped a kiss on her head. “From the top of your golden head to your pretty little toes, you’re just…beautiful.”
She sighed and relaxed in his arms, fully convinced. But she felt like milking it.
“They called me fat,” she whined.
“You’re curvy, in all the right places. That’s a good thing, trust me.”
“They also said I was short.”
“Compact,” he corrected. “The perfect height for me. You fit right here, see?”
She smiled coyly as he rubbed his chin on her hair. “I guess,” she mumbled.
“Anything else?”
“My freckles-”
“Stracciatella, 'nuff said.”
She sighed and relaxed in his arms, content. “Thank you, Ollie.”
“Anytime,” he whispered, stroking her hair gently. “Don’t let anything those bitches or Clark said get to you, ok?”
“I won’t,” she promised. And she meant it. Oliver’s brutal assessment of Elise’s plastic ‘beauty’ was all the reassurance she needed.
She craned her head and smiled up at Oliver.
“You know, Clark's statement didn’t hurt me, it…irritated me,” she realised. “I don’t think he can hurt me anymore.”
Oliver's brows rose. “Oh?”
She nodded. “Yep. There was a time when I’d have been sobbing into my coffee and making moon-eyes for a week, but those days are far behind me. I’ve cried my last tear over Clark."
He stroked her cheek tenderly. “Really?”
“Definintely. I believe I was in your arms at the time.”
He laughed. “Indeed you were. Come, bella - it’s dinner time. And I know you said you weren't hungry, but I booked our places weeks ago, and each meal cost me a thousand dollars a plate. So you’re eating, whether you like it or not.”
“What can I say?” she sighed. “You’re so persuasive.”
Oliver grinned triumphantly, took her hand and led her to the dining hall.
***
Chapter 4…
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlollie
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: An expansion of Chlollie post-Warrior
Timeline: Season 9
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary: Chloe’s confidence soars as her relationship with Ollie goes public.
Feedback: …bring it, bebe. :)
Written for sxymami0909, based on my favourite song on the Chlollie playlist she sent me. :-)
Awesome banner by jennyspring. Thanks again, babes, and I hope you had a great birthday!
Read previous chapter here.
Read story from the beginning here.
Dragonfly out in the sun, you know what I mean, don't you know
Butterflies all havin' fun, you know what I mean
Sleep in peace when day is done
And this old world is a new world
And a bold world
For me…
- Feeling Good, by Muse
Chapter 3
“Oliver, darling!” cooed a smartly coiffed middle-aged redhead in a British accent as they were ushered into Curbishley Hall. Oliver smiled and embraced the older woman, who blew elaborate air kisses against his cheek - no doubt to make sure her scarlet lipstick stayed in place, Chloe thought with a smirk.
“Good too see you again, Marguerite,” he replied warmly.
“Good to see you, too, pet,” she grinned, and glanced at Chloe. “And I see you brought a ladyfriend.”
A ladyfriend? It took all Chloe’s self-control not to gigglesnort.
“Indeed,” Oliver said, and placed a warm hand at her waist. “Chloe, I’d like you to meet Marguerite St Clair, our hostess for this evening. Marguerite, this is Chloe Ann Sullivan; my very significant other, trusted colleague and all-around partner.”
Chloe’s almost swooned at his glowing introduction. The best she'd expected was Chloe, my girlfriend, but to know that Oliver thought so much more of her - and seemed determined that others know it, too - was thoroughly heartwarming.
Marguerite St Clair silently tilted her head and studied her with a curious eye. “This one’s different,” she finally said.
“You got that right,” Oliver murmured with a grin and tightened his hand on her waist. “She’s definitely a keeper.”
“And she’s standing right here,” Chloe added dryly.
“Ooh, feisty little mare, isn’t she?” Marguerite chuckled, and nudged Oliver in the ribs. “Nice. I like this one.”
“Er - ‘This One’ can hear you!” she exclaimed.
To her surprise, Marguerite St Clair threw back her head and laughed before pulling her close to her ample bosom in a warm hug. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Chloe,” she said evenly. “I hope this blond giant is treating you well?”
Chloe blinked. “Uh - yes…yes, he is,” she said amused. “He spoke very highly of you too, and was adamant that we support you here today.”
“Yeah, we wouldn’t miss it for the world, Marguerite,” he added.
Marguerite snorted. “Ha! I believe you, pet - even if you are well over an hour late,” she said, pouting delicately. “Whatever kept you?”
A guilty flush stained Chloe’s cheeks, and Oliver wasn’t faring much better. Marguerite’s brows rose and a knowing look crossed her face.
“You know what? Forget I asked,” she drawled in amusement, and ushered them both into the grand hall.
** *
“Marguerite’s amazing!” Chloe exclaimed as they stood by an opulent gilded window drinking cocktails. Their hostess had spent a good ten minutes with them, and in that short time Chloe had been impressed with the wealth of her knowledge and business acumen.
Oliver grinned and raised his wineglass to his lips. “She was one of the first business associates to ever cut through my bullshit,” he explained. “I made the fundamental mistake of thinking she was just the hanger-on wife of a wealthy shipping magnate. Five minutes into the meeting I realised she was the wealthy shipping magnate. I have a lot of respect for her.”
“Well, she definitely knows how to pull a crowd,” Chloe observed as prominent members of Metropolis’s elite scene flitted past.
“She’s not the only one,” Oliver murmured huskily, his eyes running over her appreciatively. “You look stunning, Chloe.”
“She smiled indulgently. “Why thanks, honey, I’m glad you think so.”
“And I’m not the only one who does,” he pointed out. “You’re getting the attention of every man in this room, and some of the women.” He smiled, a lazy grin than looked more like a smirk. “I feel like the luckiest guy on the planet.”
Chloe blushed and gave him a cheeky smile. “So you agree that going back for the make-up was a good idea?”
Just then a shadow fell across her and her view was obstructed by a statuesque raven-haired female in a short black dress.
“Oliver Queen, what a surprise,” drawled the Glamazon, edging Chloe out of the way and staring Oliver straight in the eye.
Chloe detested her on sight.
“Not really; I’m a close friend of Marguerite’s, she sent a handwritten invite,” he said smoothly. “The real surprise is how you managed to get in here, Elise. So whose arm are you hanging off this week?”
Elise bristled and stuck out her pneumatically enhanced chest.
“Could have been your arm, but you never returned my calls,” she said silkily.
“Yeah, that would be an indicator for most folks,” he mused, and Chloe couldn't hold back a grin - a fact which didn't go unnoticed by Elise.
“So what are you doing these days…” she glanced down at Chloe with piercing blue eyes “…besides that?” she finished with a sneer.
Chloe gasped at the harsh jab, and Oliver’s eyes narrowed into slits.
“Give it up, Elise,” he growled, but Elise’s eyes were like ice as she went for the jugular.
“I mean, I heard you were slumming it, but this…?” she waved a hand in Chloe’s direction and gave a delicate laugh “…this puts the down in down-market.”
Chloe felt Oliver’s hand tighten around her waist and his eyes darkened with rage. “And you wonder why I never called you back,” he grated. He turned to her and smiled. “Chloe? Something stinks around here; let’s move to a less pungent section of the room.”
“With pleasure, honey,” she said with a grin, and turned to smile sweetly at the Glamazon. “Alice, was it? Lovely to meet you."
They walked away from the furiously scowling Elise - at least, she would have been scowling if the botox hadn’t frozen her forehead. Chloe couldn’t resist resting her hand on Oliver’s back and raising her middle finger. She glanced back and grinned at Elise’s slack-jawed gasp, happy that her not-so-subtle parting shot had hit home.
“Geez, what did you do for company before I came along?” she asked as soon as they were out of earshot.
Oliver sighed. “Spent my time with wasters like that, I’m afraid.”
She nodded seriously. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Why you turned into a slobbering drunk. If I had to put up with company like that, I’d drown myself in alcohol, too.”
“Hey!” he exclaimed, looking wounded.
She laughed and patted his hand. “Don’t worry, baby; you’ve got me now, you’re gonna be jes’ fine.”
“You know, you’re lucky we’re in a public place,” he whispered against her ear as his hand discreetly cupped her bottom. “If we were alone, I’d have had to spank you for that remark, or at least tickle an apology out of you.”
“Promises, promises!” she grinned, and yelped when he lightly smacked her ass.
“Minx,” he chuckled. “Now behave; I need to go circulate.”
Chloe watched him walk away with a smile on her face. Damn, but she just couldn’t get over how gorgeous and sexy he was. He flitted through the other patrons standing almost head and shoulders above everybody else, making conversation and being witty and engaging.
He was awesome. And he was all hers, she thought smugly. And even though he’d fully satisfied her this afternoon, her loins tingled in hungry longing at the mere sight of him.
A gnawing rumble from her tummy made her acutely aware that she was hungry for more than just Oliver. She ambled over to the hors d’ouerves tables and leaned forward with interest, studying the delicate edible arrangements and wondering which ones to pick when a familiar voice filtered through to her hearing.
“…well of course she’s gunning for the food, Marie. Have you seen the backside on her? It didn’t build itself, you know.”
A ripple of giggles followed, to which another voice added, “I’m not one to bitch, but that hair is an apology. I mean, come on. The Bob is so Nineties. Didn’t she ever hear of weaves?”
“My thoughts exactly,” murmured Elise. “And you’d think she’d spare us the sight of those arms. They visually offend me.”
“You’re not the only one,” derided another. “I’m still trying to decide if those unsightly blemishes are pimples or pockmarks.”
The group snickered again like whinnying mares. Chloe swallowed, tears gathering in her eyes at the caustic remarks being directed her way.
“I must be honest, though; her dress is to die for...” one of them conceded.
Chloe exhaled slowly. At least there appeared to be one decent person fighting her corner.
“…or at least it would be on a woman about six inches taller.”
And it was back to the barbs again.
“Well, you can’t blame the midgets for wanting to look their best,” came an acidic reply from one of the bunch.
“I know, right?” she heard Elise condescendingly. “Poor thing. Heaven knows what Oliver sees in her; but then again, this is a Charity event.”
More giggles. Chloe swallowed and pulled her outstretched hand away from the table, feeling suddenly chilly. She knew she ought not to let the opinions of a few vapid bitches upset her, but it was hard not to be affected by their obvious venom.
“Ciaou, bella,” called Oliver as he appeared behind her and kissed her on the cheek. “Have you had something to eat?”
“I’m not hungry,” she answered hollowly.
“You should be, you haven’t had a thing to eat all day,” he admonished. “Now, I know you girls always watch your waistlines on days out, but…Chloe?” he queried, concern marring his brow as he saw the hurt look in her eyes. “Chloe, what is it?”
She clasped her arms. “I just…don’t feel comfortable here…”
“You were fine when I left,” he said sternly. “Has something happened?”
"Nothing serious," she said with as much reassurance as she could muster.
He didn't bite.
“See this?” he said, pointing to his raised left brow. “It's a finely tuned bullshit-o-meter. Now what's up?”
She sighed and gave in. “Botox Barbie and her cookie-cutter cronies seem to find my presence here somewhat…amusing.”
“Amusement?” he echoed, a smile forming on his lips. “Is that what you think it is?”
“Well, what would you call it when mean-spirited people stand around talking about you in hushed tones and laughing disdainfully?”
He shrugged. “I’d call it jealousy.”
Chloe snorted. “So they’re jealous that I somehow managed to snag the big blond billionaire, is that it?”
“Chloe, they’re jealous because they know you outclass them in every way,” he responded. “And you didn’t ‘snag’ me, I asked you out. There’s a difference.”
“They don’t know that,” she retorted. “They think I hooked my claws into you and I’m riding your coattails, holding on for dear life until you decide to cut me loose.”
He frowned. “And it bothers you, what these people think about you and me?”
“It’s not just her, it’s…” she stopped, realising the real source of her pain.
“It’s what?” Oliver asked, his eyes narrowing. “Talk to me, woman. Who else said something to upset you?”
A small smile played at the corners of her mouth. One of the things she loved most about her relationship with Oliver was the fact that it was built on honesty. They talked about everything, no matter how trivial or nonsensical it seemed, and it always bonded them closer together.
“He didn’t upset me,” she explained. “More like annoyed me, but-”
“He?” Oliver echoed, and his eyes widened. “Aaaah. This is Clark, isn’t it?”
She sighed. “He said something, and I didn't give it much thought until Glamourpuss and her goons basically...validated it.”
“What did he say?” he asked quietly.
She took a deep breath, remembering his scathing words. “He implied that someone like you could never be interested in someone like me.”
Oliver scoffed. “What does Clark know about me?” he retorted. “What does Clark know about relationships, even? More to the point, what does Clark know about anything?”
She frowned and thought for a second. “All very valid questions,” she finally mused.
He took her hands. “Clark knows nothing about me about us,” he said gently. “He’s always been myopic in his approach to life, and his narrow-minded views reflect that.”
He lifted her chin with one finger and gazed into her eyes. "Chloe, I’m more than just interested in you; I’m crazy about you. You stimulate my body, my mind and my soul. No over woman has ever done that, and I don’t think anyone else ever will. Got it?”
Happy tears pricked her eyelids and she smiled and nodded. “Got it.”
He grinned warmly. “Good. And as for the Glamourpuss,” he added, nodding across the room to where Elise stood pouting with folded arms, “…she’s synthetic.”
“Synthetic?”
“Fake from head to toe. Should I elaborate?”
She nodded. “Please.”
He took a deep breath. “Here we go: the hair isn’t hers, the breasts certainly aren’t hers, and that tan looks like she raided it from the bottom of the Hawaiian Tropic bargain bucket. She’s had collagen fillers in her lips, botox in her forehead, and I’m pretty sure she’s wearing coloured contacts. Should I go on?”
“No need!” she gasped. “Wow. I didn’t realise all that, but now that you mention it...”
He nodded. “Exactly. More plastic than plasma. You, on the other hand…” his arms went around her waist from behind and he dropped a kiss on her head. “From the top of your golden head to your pretty little toes, you’re just…beautiful.”
She sighed and relaxed in his arms, fully convinced. But she felt like milking it.
“They called me fat,” she whined.
“You’re curvy, in all the right places. That’s a good thing, trust me.”
“They also said I was short.”
“Compact,” he corrected. “The perfect height for me. You fit right here, see?”
She smiled coyly as he rubbed his chin on her hair. “I guess,” she mumbled.
“Anything else?”
“My freckles-”
“Stracciatella, 'nuff said.”
She sighed and relaxed in his arms, content. “Thank you, Ollie.”
“Anytime,” he whispered, stroking her hair gently. “Don’t let anything those bitches or Clark said get to you, ok?”
“I won’t,” she promised. And she meant it. Oliver’s brutal assessment of Elise’s plastic ‘beauty’ was all the reassurance she needed.
She craned her head and smiled up at Oliver.
“You know, Clark's statement didn’t hurt me, it…irritated me,” she realised. “I don’t think he can hurt me anymore.”
Oliver's brows rose. “Oh?”
She nodded. “Yep. There was a time when I’d have been sobbing into my coffee and making moon-eyes for a week, but those days are far behind me. I’ve cried my last tear over Clark."
He stroked her cheek tenderly. “Really?”
“Definintely. I believe I was in your arms at the time.”
He laughed. “Indeed you were. Come, bella - it’s dinner time. And I know you said you weren't hungry, but I booked our places weeks ago, and each meal cost me a thousand dollars a plate. So you’re eating, whether you like it or not.”
“What can I say?” she sighed. “You’re so persuasive.”
Oliver grinned triumphantly, took her hand and led her to the dining hall.
***
Chapter 4…