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That viral photo... that kiss...
The lines between fake and real become blurry, and I’m beginning to lose the ability to tell which is which.
Surely he must feel something too?
Or maybe he’s just what he’s reputed to be - a playboy. A himbo who’ll fuck anything that moves. Maybe all this fame doesn’t faze him in the slightest. Maybe he just thinks of me as a useful tool to get more clicks and views and audience numbers.
But I know this man. I feel like I’m really starting to know exactly who he is.
Maybe I’m being paranoid.
And he doesn’t come across as some bad boy. He’s more than that. But I’m always reading crap about him online – all his ex-flings and all the stories and rumors and gossip about his lifestyle. All the photos of him ducking out of nightclubs in the early morning and girls following him up to hotel suites for the night.
And they make me doubt everything again.
My paranoia returns. Who is the real Victor?
My head or the reputation...
Who can I believe?
47
JOSIE
I’m sitting by the hotel’s indoor pool when Victor strolls in like the self-possessed man he is - all six-plus-feet of him with those broad shoulders and perfect full lips.
This space for the pool underneath the fancy hotel is huge, and it’s exclusive only to the patrons who are staying here. The sign on the front door to the pool calls this place a rejuvenating experience, and it’s pretty damn accurate. Like the rest of the hotel, it’s all done in a classical style - marble and smooth edges and that cool feeling we have stepped back in time to Roman antiquity.
It’s just been me alone here, relaxing. Well, that was the case until Victor arrives.
The pool itself stretches before me – still, unspoiled water that sparkles under the lights.
But the water doesn’t remain pristine for long... not when Victor Penmayne walks in with eyes set on disturbing my peace.
He’s wearing nothing but racing briefs. It’s tight on him. You can definitely see a bulge as he strolls in with that confidence.
He stretches his arms just as he reaches the other end of the pool from me. We’re too far away to chat, but he still finds a moment to wink cheekily at me.
And then he dives in.
The water ripples with the entry of his beautiful body into the blue surface.
Yeah, he really wants to disturb my peace.
The man can swim, that’s for sure. And not just basic survival stuff – he has the skill of an athlete. He makes it look effortless as he powers through the water with his strong, muscular arms. He shoots down the length of the pool until he’s at the edge next to me. He launches to the surface and holds onto the edge to look at me with all that annoying cheekiness of his.
“I thought you’d be filming all today,” I tell him, trying my best not to appear as if I’ve just been ogling him and his tight racing briefs as he swam.
“I got to leave early today,” he replies. “They needed to pick up some shots that I’m not in. I wasn’t needed. I thought I’d come here and surprise you.”
I nod.
“Well, you surprised me,” I say.
“You reckon I’m a good swimmer?” he asks me, very unserious.
“What do you think, Victor? What do you want me to say?”
