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[2 Broke Girls] Ch: 187 [Date with Chloe pt1]
🕑 Added 2025-09-12 23:16:42 +0000 UTCAN: Warning: There's a cliffhanger. You might want to wait for the next chapter. I'll drop it around noon.
The first thing Alex did when he stepped into his penthouse was pull Angelina into a kiss. Her lips pressed firmly against his, a quiet relief in the middle of the storm, and for a brief moment he let himself savor it before pulling away. He told her he needed a shower and slipped into the bathroom without waiting for an answer.
The clothes he took off were stiff with dried blood and reeking of iron. He let them fall in a heap on the floor and turned on the water. Steam rose around him as he stepped beneath the showerhead, letting the pounding streams run down his skin, streaking red across the drain. The heat loosened the tension in his muscles.
He had killed before, and last night had been no different, five shooters dropping with perfect headshots. There was no guilt in him, no weight dragging behind his thoughts. Instead, there was the rush—the sharp, electric clarity of combat—that kept replaying behind his closed eyes. Every angle, every decision, every pull of the trigger returned to him in perfect detail, his mind running the sequence again and again as though testing it for flaws.
He pressed his palms flat against the wall and leaned forward beneath the torrent. His chest rose and fell slowly. This was the truth he could not shake: everything in his life was balanced too neatly. He had success, money, power, and influence that stretched across Hollywood and far beyond. He had love in his arms and well... He had no rivals who could truly threaten him, no opponents who could drag him to the edge where instinct had to decide everything.
It was perfection, and perfection had calcified into monotony.
Alex tilted his head back, letting the water stream across his face, and felt the restless edge of hunger stir inside him. The assassins tonight had offered him a fleeting reminder of what it meant to stand on the knife’s edge of survival, and he realized how much he missed that. He needed something more, something that stripped away the polish of studios and premieres and reminded him what it meant to fight with nothing but raw will.
A slow smile curved his lips, unseen in the steam. “Alright,” he murmured to himself. “Time to explore MMA. Or maybe the no-rules underground circuits.”
...
A few minutes later, Alex came out of the bathroom and put on a gray shirt and black joggers.
'Humm... Smells good.'
He went to the kitchen. Angelina was already there. She made some breakfast: eggs, toast, mini sausages, and crispy bacon strips.
She looked over her shoulder when he entered. “You actually look human again.”
Alex gave her a faint grin as he slid onto the stool by the counter. “That bad, huh?”
She carried the plate over, set it in front of him, then made one for herself. They ate in silence for a while, the only sounds the clink of forks.
Finally, Alex set his fork down. “She made it. The cop. Lucy. She woke up before I left.”
Angelina’s eyes lifted, relief flickering across her face. “Good. I was worried when you told me she’d lost that much blood.”
“She’s tough,” He said, cutting into the eggs. “The surgery went well. She’ll be out for a while, but she's going to be okay."
Angelina leaned back slightly in her chair. “And how are you? You sound calm, but I saw the dried blood on your clothes.”
"Well, I'm good. Just a little exhausted. But yeah," He nodded with a smile. "It feels good to know I was able to help someone. And..."
"No need to apologize again. You already apologized too many times," She said before putting a bacon strip into her mouth. "And I'm glad you did what you did. Thanks to you, someone is alive, and that's good enough for me."
After breakfast, the two of them left the dishes on the counter and went to the bedroom upstairs. Angelina stayed awake all night waiting for Alex, so she too was exhausted.
Alex jumped on the bed, followed by Angelina.
She snuggled close and rested her head against his chest, her arm curling around his waist. He kissed her forehead, pulled her closer, and let his own eyes close. The rhythm of her breathing evened out within minutes, and soon he was gone too.
By noon, Alex woke up. He shifted carefully so as not to wake her, then got out of bed. He stretched, rolled his shoulders, and walked to the bathroom. He quickly freshened up and went to the kitchen.
He opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of beer, twisted off the cap, and took a long pull. "Haaa." He then picked up his phone from the dining table and walked to the balcony.
The city stretched beneath him, bright and restless under the midday sun. He leaned on the railing with the beer in one hand and the phone in the other. A couple of new texts blinked on the screen.
Lilly.
Photo attached: a target riddled with arrows, the center bull’s-eye hit three times over.
[Not bad, right? Coach says I’m competition level now. Maybe I’ll quit acting and join the Olympics. Or maybe I’ll just impress you on set.]
Alex took another pull from the bottle, amused. He typed back:
[Looks clean. But unless you can split an arrow Robin Hood style, I’m not impressed yet.
Don’t slack, Lilly. When Hobbit rolls, I want you sharp enough that even Tolkien’s ghost can’t complain.]
Her reply came fast, a string of laughing emojis and then:
[Careful, Mr. Wilson. Keep doubting me and I’ll pin you to a wall and prove it.]
He grinned and moved to the next message.
Caroline.
[Max found an orange stray cat outside our old apartment. She decided we’re keeping it. She already named him Nacho because she was eating Doritos. I told her we’re not keeping it. Guess who won the argument?]
Attached was a photo of Max grinning like a lunatic with the scruffy cat tucked under her arm, its fur spiked as if it had been dragged through a blender.
Alex chuckled aloud, shaking his head. He typed:
[That cat looks like it’s plotting my murder already. Fine, keep Nacho. But he stays out of the boardroom. Also, Max better remember she’s on cleaning and training duty.]
Caroline’s reply was immediate:
[Already told her. That cat ain't going on in the bedroom. But he's so cute. I know we are busy and might not be able to keep an eye on him, so l think it's best to find a proper home for him. I'll talk to her and see... Ok. Gotta go. The rush hour is about to begin. Talk to you later. Bye.]
Alex smirked, then swiped to the last message.
Max
Photo attached: close-up shot of her cleavage. Perfect full view.
[Morning motivation. Better than coffee, right?]
[PS: you can’t complain, you literally asked for butt pics last week.]
Alex smiled as he texted back.
[Coffee doesn’t keep me hard, Max. This might.
Careful though, you keep sending me pics like that and I’ll have to start charging you rent for living in my head.]
Well, Max didn't reply, probably because of the rush hour.
Alex did a quick status check on his girls and everyone was fine.
He put the phone in his pocket and took a sip. For a moment, everything seemed strangely balanced again. Lilly was sharpening herself for the role he had given her, Caroline was managing Max’s hurricane energy and a cat, and Max… well, Max was always Max.
Behind him, he heard the quiet shuffle of feet. Angelina stepped on the balcony, her hair slightly messy. She rubbed her eyes, then tilted her head at him.
“Beer before lunch?” she asked.
“Hydration,” Alex said dryly, raising the bottle before setting it down on the railing.
She leaned beside him, looking out at the sprawl of Los Angeles. For a while, they didn’t speak. The city roared beneath them—sirens in the distance, traffic surging, the restless rhythm of a place that never slept.
"So, you going on that date tonight with Chloe?" She asked.
"Yep. She too had a rough night. There was a gang war, and many cops pulled extra night duty. She was at the hospital, checking on Lucy and Tim. I asked her to take a break, but..."
Before Alex could finish, Angelina spoke, "...she didn't want to postpone the date, huh?"
Alex nodded as she took the beer bottle from his hand and took a sip.
"That's right. She takes her promises and commitment very seriously," He replied.
...
...
[Night time]
Alex reached Chloe’s apartment right at 8 PM. He adjusted his shirt cuff as he pressed the doorbell. A soft chime echoed inside, followed by footsteps across the hardwood floor.
The door opened, and there she was.
Chloe stood framed in the doorway. The dark green dress she wore clung to her in all the right places, the deep V neckline daring but balanced by the understated elegance of the cut. A subtle slit along the leg hinted at movement more than it revealed, and the silver bracelet around her wrist caught the light every time she shifted. Her makeup was light, accentuating her sharp cheekbones and piercing eyes.
Her eyes scanned him briefly, noting his charcoal blazer over a fitted black shirt, dark trousers pressed to perfection, and he looked handsome.
Alex let his gaze travel once, appreciative but not lingering. When his eyes returned to hers, he smiled faintly. “Beautiful. Though I suspect you already knew that before I showed up.”
Chloe raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a small smirk. “And here I was expecting you to be late and sweaty from some studio crisis. You’re on time, dressed like you planned this. Should I be worried?”
“Worried?” He tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence. “I’d say impressed. But worried works too.”
She stepped aside, allowing him in just long enough for her to grab her purse. “Let’s not keep the restaurant waiting. I’m starving.”
...
[15 minutes later]
The restaurant he chose was in West Hollywood. Discreet, quiet, dim lighting softened by candles at every table. Walls of dark wood and leather banquettes gave the space an intimacy that bigger places never managed. A pianist played in the corner, fingers gliding over ivory keys, adding a low current of warmth to the atmosphere.
A host led them to a table by the window.
Alex pulled her chair.
"Thank you." Chloe slipped into her seat with the poise of someone who knew she was being looked at but refused to acknowledge it. Alex sat across from her, shrugging out of his blazer and letting it rest on the chair back.
The waiter arrived with menus and a practiced smile. Alex glanced at Chloe. “Wine?”
“Red,” she said simply. “Dry. Not sweet.”
“Cabernet, then,” Alex told the waiter. “Two glasses.”
When the waiter left, Chloe picked up the menu but didn’t look at it right away. Instead, her eyes lingered on him across the table. “So. You saved a cop’s life last night, got covered in blood, and still managed to show up in time for dinner. Should I be impressed, or worried?”
Alex leaned back slightly, his smile faint but unreadable. “Both, maybe.” He tapped the edge of his menu. “I’ll let you decide which one wins.”
She tilted her head, studying him. “I went to the crime scene, and there we found the bodies with perfect head shots. But surprisingly, the CCTVs around the area were all glitched up. We couldn't recover the footage. I wanted to investigate further, but Tim said he took them out and the case is somehow closed. Order from above. Just like that, Pappz case." She paused for a moment and looked into his eyes before speaking. "It was you. Wasn't it? You took down the shooters and even performed that field surgery on her. You like living on that line, don’t you? Somewhere between dangerous and charming..."
He chuckled softly. “It keeps things interesting. Are you perhaps interrogating me? Should I call my lawyers?"
She chuckled. "No, just wanted to thank you."
The wine arrived. The waiter poured deep red into crystal glasses and left them to their own rhythm again. Chloe lifted her glass, swirling it with ease before taking a measured sip.
“Not bad,” she said, setting it down.
Alex raised his own and drank. “I’ll take that as approval.”
She finally opened her menu, scanning. “Everything looks good.”
“The lamb here is worth your time,” Alex said. “But the seared salmon is solid too.”
“You’ve been here before?” she asked, eyes narrowing slightly.
“Once or twice,” he admitted. “Business dinners. Never personal.”
“Good,” Chloe said. “I don’t want to be lumped in with your business.”
Alex’s grin widened. “Trust me, Chloe. You’re not.”
