Fifty Shades of BLACK SILK

BLACK SILK: Part 33

"Have you never been on a helicopter before?" Christian asked.

Oh, why, yes, I frequent the skies all the time. "No. Never."

"Don't be so nervous," he said, smiling and holding my hand. "It's not bad. It's quite beautiful. You get to see all of New York from a bird's eye view, and at night, it looks like the sky and the stars are beneath us."

"You make it sound incredible."

"It's part of my job. To make things sound incredible."

He was right. We swam through Times Square, Central Park, Brooklyn bridge, you name it. It was frightening at first, but once I got used to the manoeuvres the helicopter makes the sweeping vistas was worth the thrill.

Christian said he had all we needed packed on the plane, so I didn't go home. We went straight to the runway. I spotted the slick, shiny plane at first. Of course, we're taking a private jet.

"Is it all grey inside?"

Christian smiled. "More like vanilla."

When we mounted the plane there was champagne and strawberries, a few chairs and tables and two beds at one end on either side of the plane. Christian let me get changed into more comfortable clothing. Of course, he brought the most expensive pyjamas there was when really I cycle between the same cartoon-based pyjamas all the time.

He changed into something Grey. Of course. Dark muted colours become him.

"Now will you tell me where we're going?"

He shook his head. And then, pointed with his chin to the bed behind me. "You should get some sleep, it's going to be a long flight."

I dozed off almost immediately upon impact with the silk pillow.

***

Long flight indeed it was. I woke up halfway through the approximately ten-hour flight to find Christian still sound asleep. So I opted for a bit of reading, some television, a slew of decadent dishes, all in an effort to keep my mind busy. I even job searched. Is that weird?

Eventually, Christian woke up and we both switched into outwear. I was in a casual getup with dark grey Rag & Bone booties, black skinny jeans a Queen vintage graphic tee on a white backdrop and a long white coat. I felt like half a spy named Margarite who operated on the low-low.

We took a black sedan down some country side for a ride seemed like it lasted forever. The amount of transport it takes to get to this place almost seemed like it wasn't worth it. Until, I saw the lake. The mountainous view, the sweeping vistas. The afternoon light started to teeter off as the sun began to set just below the horizon.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

Christian smiled. He had been on numerous calls about lord knows what. Checking his emails, texts, papers I didn't know he was lugging around. I guess we were on a working holiday.

"This is Lake Como. One of the most prestigious places in Italy."

"I've never been to Italy," I blinked.

Christian chuckled. "Where have you been?"

I shook my head. "Nowhere."

He blinked twice, genuinely surprised. "Never?"

"The most I've gone to is L.A. and back, but it's usually on business. It's airports and hotels on business."

"Surely you would've known because of how long the flight took?"

"Oh, yeah, well of course. I just—I—it's just all setting in. I'm in Italy. I'm in Lake Como in Italy."

"I hope it'll be worth your while."

It truly was. I already couldn't wait until I dipped into the lake. Was I even allowed to do that? Even just my feet?

We pulled up to a grandiose house that didn't even seem to fit his style. There was hardly any marble, or granite; the fireplace was traditional, unlike his modern taste, and some of the walls were painted an inviting cerulean blue.

"No hotel?"

"Oh, I thought—"

"—no, no, it's fine. I just, didn't even know you had a house here but, of course you do."

He shook his head. "This isn't my house. A friend is lending it to me."

"Why, you can't afford one?"

"Actually, mine is being built as we speak."

"Sense the tone, Christian." I smiled.

He nodded. "Right. Joke."

I dropped my bags and unravelled the many layers of clothing.

"So, who's this mega-gazillionaire friend who was so kind enough to lend you the house for the holiday?"

"George," Christian said, taking off his jacket. "Amal was completely fine with it too so don't worry."

I chuckled. Their names hung in the air like a speech bubble from a comic book. The lavish house, the lake, Italy, the names. "Wait...do you mean, George Clooney?"

Christian nodded while fixing us drinks in the kitchen like it was no big deal. "He's not here that much, anyway."

"The life of a busy actor," I panted. "Umm, does he know I'm here?"

"Of course. Background check and all."

"Background check?"

Christian shrugged, turning the corner of the giant kitchen island with our drinks in tow and handing mine to me. "Of course. It's our holiday, but it's his house." He winked and clinked his glass against mine. "Cheers."