Page 30 of Galata and Nutmeg
Get ready for the ultimate celebrity break-up: it looks like its officially ka-boom for Ka-Blair!
You heard it here first! Disgraced rockstar Kaan and model Blair Roberts have officially called it quits! And it seems like it’s for the best, as sources close to the couple of revealed that both of them have some serious issues they need to work on.
According to one insider, “Blair has her demons and Kaan has a complicated history. It’s been hard for him to watch Blair self-destruct and, despite him trying to encourage her to get the help that she so desperately needs, he had to walk away for his own mental health.”
Well, that’s certainly not a surprise. It always seemed like their relationship was more about convenience and publicity than actual love.
And speaking of publicity, photos have now emerged of Kaan cozying up with a new lady friend. I don’t have all the details yet, but you can be sure that I’ll be digging for all the dirt.
It’s unclear what exactly caused Miz Roberts’ epic meltdown, but I have a feeling that seeing these photos of Kaan with his new flame won’t help matters.
I’m Pippa Ellis, and this is Fame and No-sense.
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The rest of the day passed by quickly with me working at killing the Blair story while Kaan lay on my sofa watching me the entire time with an intense gaze. As hard as I try to keep myself focused, having him behind me, dissecting every call or email, makes it impossible to do my job. I let out a frustrated sigh and slam my laptop shut before retreating to the bathroom for a little privacy.
Leaving the light off, instead relying on the soft light streaming through the small, frosted window, I prepare a bath. The soothing scent of lavender fills the air as I pour the bubble bath into the warm, cascading water, creating a frothy blanket of bubbles that swirled enticingly. I have one of those old-fashioned claw foot tubs, tiny, like everything else in my flat, but I still somehow make it work. Leaning back against the porcelain, I close my eyes and try to ignore the Pretty Boy—and his penis—in the other room.
He hates me.
Is hate too strong a word?
Dislikes me intensely, then.
Whatever Mr. Korkmaz thinks of me suits me just fine… because I hate him too!
No you don’t.
“Shut up, Meg!”
Now I’m talking to myself. Great, just great.
Sliding my bum until my knees are against my chest, I can now sink my head under the water, feeling the heat wash over me. The idea of drowning myself is tempting, but ultimately, I decide against it. Even the mistress of manipulation herself would have a hard time spinning that story. I count to ten, and then twenty. I’m halfway to thirty when the light flicks on overhead. Someone is in the room with me. I surface, wipe the suds from my face, and lock eyes with my intruder. He stares down at me, a glimmer of lust in his eyes, as I try to re-arrange the bubbles to cover my ample bosom. My nipples still peek through the suds. “What the actual hell, Kaan?”
I can’t help but let my eyes pass over the obvious bulge in his jeans… it is in my direct line of sight, after all. His own eyes glance down at the bulge and a sinful smile appears on his lips as he runs his hand through his thick, sun-kissed hair. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Get out!”
The door closes before I can aim my wet washcloth at him.
By the time I emerge, Kaan has either had food delivered or he’s the most creative cook in the world, because the unfamiliar, enticing, smells coming from my microscopic kitchenette make my stomach growl. Loudly. I throw on a tank top, lounge pants, and find Kaan tinkering away on my two-burner stove. “I did knock.”
“I didn’t hear you.”
“When you didn’t answer I came in to check you were okay.”
“I was fine.” I sigh, not wanting to re-live the embarrassment of the experience. Not yet anyway. “What’s going on in here?”
“I’ve raided your larder.”
“I didn’t think there was anything in my larder.” I poke my head into the small cupboard above my bench only to find it completely full. I swear it was empty this morning. “Did you get all this delivered?”
He ignores my question and grins at me. “And yet you have enough alcohol to see you through the next zombie apocalypse.”
“That is, unfortunately, very true.”
“You said you had no alcohol here?”