I wasn't meant to meet him like this.
In fact I was never meant to meet him at all. A cancelled flight back home meant staying another night at the hotel, and I couldn't have been more pissed.
Drinking my night away in the bar seemed to be my only option. Besides, I could probably observe and studying the kinds of people who inhabited here - hoping to find my next plot for a new novel.
My books are best sellers, Better than I could've imagined - probably because the grounds that they're written on are exes that have made a specific impact on my life. Names change, circumstances are twisted to grip the reader more - but the baseline stays the same. I know exactly which book is about who.
Why do I do it? Because it heals me and people thrive on drama - even if I've bent the truth a little. I have to after all.
Do these men know? Of course they do.
Have they tried to sue me? I have a pretty good lawyer.
Are they men who are in the public eye? One hundred percent...
At least, they have been so far.
With my connections and job, I tend to meet a lot of high profile men. I'm never actively looking for a next 'victim' though. My mind is always in overdrive with plots, and not all my books are about these people who have come and gone from my life. Just the few that have.
I drink my wine silently and order another, getting out my purse before the barman comes back and pushes my card back to me, presenting me with the wine. "It's paid for".
I frown. "By who?"
"He'd prefer to remain anonymous"
Hey, I'll take that, but it only makes me more eager to now scour the bar and see just who my potential wine buyer is.
Couples are a no go, so I rule out the few that are sat in the booths, checking around a little more until I clock two men standing away from the bar talking, laughing. One then glances discreetly over and my head spins.
It's not the wine.
He's then joined by a woman who says something and he nods. At this point I simply focus on the wine, not wanting him to think I'm some crazed fan staring him down. Although it's hard not to look at him at all.
He's gorgeous, and everyone wants him.
Even me...
"I guessed right then". Says a voice next to me, and out of the corner of my eye, I note a figure slide onto the stool next to me. "White wine woman?"
I now look up at him and meet his eye. I'm also fully aware that people are looking at us - mainly him, but it won't stop people from taking discreet pictures and sending them into some gossip outlet like TMZ.
Good job I'm not drunk...yet.
"It was a lucky guess". I smirk and take a sip while keeping my eyes on him.
"Chris". He introduces himself.
I put my glass down, noting that the woman who was talking to him just earlier is watching us carefully. In her mind she's already screaming at him to get away while he still can. Well, if she knows me that is. He turns and sees her before turning back to me.
"Bristol". I introduce myself, "and I'm guessing the woman over there is hoping you behave for any potential stories that could break overnight".
He smirks at this. "She doesn't know what goes on behind closed doors. If she did she'd probably quit".
"What kinda things go on? You've got me curious now Evans".
"Aaaaah, so you do know me".
"Your face is a little hard to miss - that and you walked in with Robert Downey Jr earlier. It's a bit of a giveaway. Guessing you're staying here for work?"
"Press tour". He confirms. "Had the premiere earlier so now it's back here for the after party before we haul our hungover asses on a plane tomorrow to the next country". Chris pauses. "As for behind closed doors? That's a secret". I hold back a giggle and hide my flushed cheeks by sipping my wine again. "You here for business or pleasure?" He now asks, a certain look in his eye.
Go on Bristol - be a slut.
"Could be one, could be the other - or both". I tease, finger tracing the rim of my glass.
He mutters a "damn" to himself, before he takes a swig of beer from his bottle. "I'm kinda hoping it's the last".
"Why?"
"Coz if it's not then I guess I'll just be leaving with just your number tonight".
I finish my wine and then look at him, prepared to take whatever shit will come my way if something happens past tonight, and pay that price happily. Something tells me it's worth it.
"Guess you're having an early night then".