This Crazy Rich Boy

"So who is she?" the lady in black repeats, with fire in her eyes.

Gabriel Tan gazes at her dumbly, as if he has regressed back to his childhood.

"No, who is she, Gab?" Claire asks, regaining her bearings. She's not going to stand idly by while this woman, with all her annoying sense of self-entitlement, asks the burning questions. ""Who's this who thinks she owns you?"

Gabriel Tan sighs. "Claire, this is Michelle Alcantara, my ex. Michelle, this is Claire, my new girlfriend…Err, fiancée."

"Fiancée my ȧss," Michelle hisses. "I don't believe that. Stop playing your games, Gab. And let this poor girl go. She deserves better. She doesn't have to be part of your stupid pretend game."

"She's not pretending," Gabriel protests.

"I'm not pretending," Claire seconds.

As a response, Gabriel takes Claire by the waist and presses her body against his. "We are in love, Michelle. So please don't stand in the way of our love!"

Upon hearing that, Claire dies a little inside. Where does Gabriel get all these cheesy lines? Why is he acting so stupid, so erratic now? Claire realizes maybe this woman really hurt Gabriel for her to have this effect on him.

"Oh, my God, Gab!" Michelle laughs. "'Don't stand in the way of our love'. Come on! Two weeks ago you were going to marry me!"

"Two weeks ago I caught you cheating on me!" Gabriel retorts.

"Two weeks ago, I was drunk and didn't know what I was doing," Michelle says. "Can't you even forgive just one indiscretion? We were together for years, Gab!"

"Exactly!" Gab says, getting a bit angrier now. "That's what I am saying. Years. How long had we been together? Ten years? And you had the gall to destroy that just for a one-night stand with that a-hole!"

"I never intended that to happen!" Michelle says, almost on the verge of tears. "They slipped something in my drink. Next thing I knew, I was in that room…"

"Aw, stop it!" Gabriel groans. "I don't want to hear it all again!" He turns to Claire. "My love, I'm sorry about this. My ex-girlfriend is trying desperately to win me back." He turns to Michelle. "But that won't ever happen."

"Oh, thank you, my love," Claire purrs, so into her role now. She runs her palm on Gabriel's ċhėst. He looks at his face for a reaction, but Gabriel's acting well. You won't know this is all pretend.

"I don't believe this," Michelle says, crossing her arms across her ċhėst. "No, I'm not buying this story. So stop your bullshit, will you."

"We don't care if you believe this or not," Gabriel says. "Claire and I love each other, and that's the only thing that matters."

Michelle makes a face, acting as if she's choking on something. "God, come on. Stop it. You're making me puke. If you're really, truly, madly in love with each other, prove it."

"What do you mean?"

"Prove it. Kiss her. Kiss her like it's the last night of the world. I want torrid. I want French. I want—"

"Aw come on!" Gabriel stomps on the floor like he's throwing a tantrum. "What torrid? We don't kiss in public! We're very private—"

"You don't kiss because it's not real," Michelle teases. "Admit it, Gab. This is all pretend." She laughs.

While this exchange is happening, Claire merely looks on, growing uncertain about what to feel by the second. She's feeling confused now as to what really is the matter. Hearing that they broke up only a couple of weeks ago, Claire wonders if this is another of Gabriel Tan's childish, even crazy, emotional responses to things, and she's just the unwitting pawn. Should she really play as his fiancée to the end? Or should she admit that, yes, this is just a job, she's just being paid so handsomely, and truth be told, she would not—not in a million years—fall in love, not even like, a person such as Gabriel Tan.

But Gabriel Tan takes her hand, and even as Michelle mouths out the words, "Kiss. Kiss if it's real," Claire sees Gabriel turning to her, his face an odd mixture of grim determination and the dėsɨrė for revenge, everything moving in slow-mo as Gabriel's lips seeks hers, and their lips locks again for the second time tonight.

The world stops. She hears Michelle, from so far away, tease, "French. Torrid. Kiss like you really mean it, or else…" And as if on cue, she feels Gabriel's mouth open so ever slightly, his tongue emerging from whatever warm place it was hiding, seeking hers. And Claire doesn't understand, but for some reason, her own tongue responds, gingerly touching his at first, then, as if completing a secret handshake, a handshake of tongues, she opens her mouth even more and lets Gabriel Tan in, her boss, as much as he wants. She gives him free reign of her lips, her tongue, and in the dizzying blur of that moment, as her sense of awkwardness is drowned out by a growing sense of pŀėȧsurė, she feels her arms grasping Gabriel Tan's back, ċȧrėssing it. Claire hears herself mȯȧning, while Michelle, from so far away, seems to have fallen silent.

After what feels like a million years of indulging in that pŀėȧsurė, Claire slowly opens her eyes and sees Gabriel Tan gazing at her. Something's different.

"Oh, my God," Michelle mutters. And Claire is surprised to realize Michelle is still there, standing, watching them. "You two really are…something."

"Yes, Michelle," Gabriel says. "We're over. I'm done with you. Now, I'm not sure who invited you here, but this is my party. Should I call security to escort you out, or would you be so gracious to see yourself out?"

Michelle Alcantara scowls, but she says nothing. She glares at him for a second, glares at Claire, then without as much as even a whimper, storms out of the Palace.