Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

I always wondered what it would feel like

for my father to be mad because he cared.

And to care because my father was mad.

~ Zayne

CHLOÉ SHUT HER eyes and rested her head against the window as the limousine weaved its way through the Saturday night traffic of downtown Chicago.

Her stomach growled at the delicious scent of food wafting up from the takeout bags sitting between Ethan and Zayne. But then it would twist and turn on her as she was hit all over again with the barrage of emotions that tonight had brought forward.

What a mess. She’d never felt more embarrassed in her life, which was ironic, considering how empowered she’d felt walking into that ballroom tonight.

Here she was in the back of a limousine wearing the sexiest dress she’d ever owned, and instead of thinking about that, she was feeling the bitter sting of humiliation.

God. What must Ethan and Zayne be thinking? That they were out with some kid who’d been hauled away and scolded by her parents? It was mortifying, not to mention frustrating, and she couldn’t work out who she was more annoyed with—her fathers, herself, or the whole situation in general.

Talk about worst date ever. She wouldn’t be surprised if they demanded her bracelets back and kicked her to the curb, because there was no way in hell this was where they thought their night would end up.

Chloé snuck a peek across the back seat to where her dates sat in the quiet confines of the car. Every now and then the lights of the buildings would illuminate the sharp angles of Ethan’s face and the rough, masculine lines of Zayne’s, and the sight had her shifting on her seat.

They were breathtaking to look at in a pulse-racing kind of way. The kind of men that people stopped and did a double take at because something about them demanded attention. From their intense good looks, down to the way they held themselves, their mere presence made Chloé’s body hum like it was a live wire.

Zayne sat with his head back on the headrest and his legs spread wide in a straddle that drew the eye, while Ethan was much more regal in his pose. He sat up straight with one ankle propped over the other and his hand resting on Zayne’s upper thigh, and seeing them that close, touching, only added to her overall irritation at the way the night had played out.

This was not how their date was supposed to go. There was supposed to be talking, dinner, clothes on the ground, and hands on each other. Instead, she was sitting in the back of a limo on one side and they were on the other.

Ugh. They didn’t need to kick her to the curb—she’d just jump and end her own damn misery.

“Chloé?” Ethan’s voice had her refocusing on him, and she tried her best for a smile.

“Sorry. I zoned out there for a minute.”

“That’s all right. I imagine you have a lot on your mind.”

Too much. She wished she could just flick a switch and forget it all, but unfortunately, it didn’t work that way. She’d made her bed, and now she’d have to sleep in it.

Okay, so that wasn’t all that horrifying when she thought about who she’d be sleeping in it with. But the idea of her fathers not talking to her because of it? Now that thought was horrifying.

Her phone vibrated in the clutch she held on her lap, and all three of them looked down at it.

“Sorry,” she said again, and quickly reached inside to see who it was. When she saw several messages from Justin flash up, she groaned.

Great. This was the last thing she needed.

“You need to call someone, Red?”

She raised her eyes to see Zayne gesturing to the phone.

“Uh, no. It’s just…” She blew out a breath and held up her phone. “It’s my brother.”

“Brother?” He chuckled. “Of course you have a brother. Older or younger?”

She opened her mouth, but when she hesitated, they said in unison, “Older.”

Chloé could feel the heat on her cheeks and averted her gaze. Would this night never end?

“So let me get this straight. You have three fathers and an older brother?” Zayne started to really laugh then. “Fuckin’ hell.”

Ethan’s lips crooked at the side. “And how old is your brother?”

“Twenty-nine,” she said.

“So our age?”

“Yes. He’s a teacher and occasional bartender—”

“At your family’s restaurant.”

“That’s right.”

“Okay, that makes a lot more sense.”

“What does?”

“That night we came to see you, we saw you talking to him, and I wondered if we were coming between something. There was an obvious affection there beyond a coworker relationship.”

“Oh.” Chloé scrunched up her nose. “Yeah, no. Older brother.”

“An honest mistake. After all, you do seem to have a penchant for older men.”

Her phone went off again, and when her eyes fell to the screen this time, her stomach dropped. This message was from her dad.

Dad

We expect you at JULIEN tomorrow for your usual shift. I’ll be driving you home after that, so do not make any other arrangements. Your papa knows. Be ready to explain.

Putain.This had to be the worst walk of shame ever.

“Chloé?” Ethan said.

Her hand tightened on her phone.

“Chloé, you’re pale as a ghost.”

That wasn’t all that surprising. Facing off with her dad and père had been bad enough, but the idea of looking her papa in the eye and trying to explain this made her feel like she was going to pass out.

Ethan shifted off his seat and moved next to her, pulling her into his side. She automatically burrowed into the crook of his arm.

“What is it? Do you need us to take you home?”

Oh God, she could only imagine how that would go down. She shook her head. “No. They don’t expect me until my shift tomorrow.”

“At the restaurant?”

“Yes.”

Ethan stroked her hair. “Okay. But that wasn’t what upset you, was it?”

“No.” She pressed her cheek into his chest in an effort to hide. But there was no hiding from this. Not now, not ever again. “My papa knows.”

“Ah.” Ethan’s hand stilled, and he reached for her chin, angling her face up so their eyes met. “He wasn’t there tonight.”

“Right. My dad and père were. We all work at the restaurant. Dad is the general manager, père is head chef, and occasionally Justin tends bar. Papa…” She paused and let out a deep breath. “He’s a lawyer. They call him Priest. He’s high-powered, cutthroat, and has a way of making people want to, um…”

“Confess?”

A wide smile curved Ethan’s lips, and Chloé frowned.

“I don’t know why you’re smiling. He’s scary.”

“I imagine he is. But that’s not why I’m smiling. I’m smiling because now I understand a little more about you, Miss I-Want-To-Renegotiate-My-Contract.”

Chloé’s eyes widened, and Zayne chuckled. “We always wondered what made you brave enough to bring us the contract that day.”

“Oh.”

He winked at her. “Now we know.”

Chloé nodded, and as the car pulled to a stop at the curb, she looked out the window to see the familiar Casa Marseille lanterns on the brick façade and felt something inside her calm. Strange, when seeing them used to have the exact opposite effect.

“You good, Red?”

Chloé’s eyes shifted back to Zayne’s, and when she nodded, he moved to open the door. As he climbed out, Ethan kissed her temple and said by her ear, “If you want to go home, we can still take you.”

She appreciated the gesture, but right now that was the last place she wanted to go. She needed to calm down, needed time to think and reflect on everything that had happened, and so did her fathers. Otherwise they might say something they would all regret.

“No. I think some time apart is probably a good thing.”

“It can be.” Ethan drew his fingers down her cheek to her chin and looked her in the eye. “But not too long. You don’t want things to fester.”

“I know. But they need time to cool down.”

“They do? Or you do?”

Chloé shrugged. “We all do.”

“Hmm. Well, just remember, they’re worried about you because they love you. You should never punish people for that.”

He gestured to the open door, and she placed her hand in Zayne’s and climbed out. Ethan was right—she needed to take tonight, calm down, and then go talk to them tomorrow.

She loved her fathers, and they loved her. She would fix this.

At least, she hoped so.

* * *

ZAYNE PLACED THE takeout bags on the kitchen island and headed straight to the bar to grab a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses. He needed a drink, and something harder than the champagne his father was dishing out at tonight’s function.

He headed back to the island, and as Chloé took in the open space of the apartment, he realized this was the first time she’d been here since that first night she spent with them.

“Would you like a tour? You probably don’t remember much about the place from that first night.”

A pretty pink flush stained her cheeks as she placed her clutch on the quartz countertop. “I remember a metal hook under your coffee table.”

Zayne chuckled as he placed the glasses on the counter and poured the alcohol. “What can we say—the piece called to us.”

Her lips twitched, and he liked that. He wanted that smile of hers to come back. He knew how shitty it felt to get into an argument with his father—hell, he was feeling it now—but he could imagine it was hundred times worse for her, since she actually cared. It was time to cheer their girl up.

“Okay, so you can’t drink, obviously. So tell me, Red. What do you do when you’ve had a night like tonight?”

He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the end of the counter, then he tugged off the bow tie and flicked open the top button of his shirt.

“Um, ice cream?”

“Ice cream before dinner, huh? Well, you’ve come to the right place. I decided long ago that ice cream is a food group all on its own.”

“Really?”

“Yep, want to see my selection?”

Ethan walked into the kitchen and laid his jacket over the top of Zayne’s. “Selection? I think they call what you have in that freezer an addiction.”

Zayne scoffed and downed his whiskey. “I have a sweet tooth, so sue me.”

“You have a problem, is what you have. And careful what you say now—we’re in the presence of a lawyer’s daughter.”

“Ah, you’re right. Guess I better share, then.”

“Well.” Ethan smirked. “You are good at sharing.”

Zayne headed to the freezer and pulled open the door. “Let’s see, I have butter pecan, rocky road, salted caramel, pistachio—”

“Butter pecan.” Chloé grinned as she slipped onto a stool and Zayne pulled out the pint.

“Bowl or—”

“Pint.” She gestured to the small container. “An ice cream binge isn’t an ice cream binge if it’s from a bowl.”

“Fair point.” Zayne took a spoon from the drawer, and as he went to hand them over, the clutch on the counter began to ring.

All three of them looked at the glittery bag as though it were a bomb about to go off, and with the way this night was going, Zayne wouldn’t be surprised.

Chloé’s smile fell as she reached for the bag, pulled her phone out, and sighed. “I knew I should’ve turned it off. It’s my brother again.”

“Maybe you should take it,” Ethan suggested. “See what he wants.”

She looked conflicted as the phone fell silent, and Zayne offered up a smile.

“I’ll keep your ice cream cold for you.”

Ethan picked up one of the jackets and draped it over her shoulders. “See those stairs over there? The left side leads to a roof deck. Why don’t you go and call him back?”

Chloé glanced over her shoulder and nodded. “Okay, you’re right. Let me go see what he wants and then I can relax.”

“Exactly. Talk to him, and when you’re done, we’ll be right here.”

She hopped off the stool and made her way across their living room in that bombshell of a dress. Ethan came over to stand beside Zayne.

“We got a lot more than we bargained for with our little wildcat, didn’t we?”

“Yeah.” Zayne chuckled. “Like a pride of angry lions ready to rip our faces off. I’m not sure we’re going to come out of this alive.”

Ethan picked up his glass of whiskey and clinked it to Zayne’s. “Guess we’ll soon find out, won’t we?”

* * *

ETHAN DOWNED THE smooth contents of his glass in one gulp and poured himself a second as they watched Chloé disappear up the stairs and out onto their roof.

He hadn’t been lying about taking on more than what they’d bargained for. But the truth of the matter was, he wouldn’t change a thing. One father or three, Chloé had intrigued them from the very beginning.

Her laughter, her feisty spirit, her emerging sexuality. They wanted to nurture and explore that part of her as much as they wanted to learn everything they could about what made her who she was. So no matter how many men they had to get through, they weren’t about to let her go.

“How do you think that’s gonna go?”

Ethan glanced in Zayne’s direction and caught a hint of skin through the open buttons of his snowy-white dress shirt. His dick stirred.

“About as good as the rest of the night. Older brother. Our age. He’s going to know what’s up.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured too.” Zayne grabbed up the bottle of whiskey and didn’t bother with a glass as he took a long swig. “Should be fun.”

Ethan snorted. “Your idea of fun and mine vastly differ, then.”

“I don’t know about that.” Zayne placed the bottle back on the counter and stepped to Ethan’s side. “There’s something super fucking sexy when your protective side comes out.”

“I highly doubt I’m going to have to protect her against her fathers.”

“No, but you’re going to protect what we’ve found here.”

“And what’s that?”

“Each other.” Zayne smoothed a palm down Ethan’s chest. “I get this is new and all, but we claimed her. She’s ours now. And I know you’re not going to let her go just because her fathers are a little bit—”

“Pissed off?”

“Mhmm. I seem to remember another father who got pissed off at you too. That didn’t stop you from making me yours.”

Ethan covered Zayne’s hand where it rested over his heart. “Yes, but your father was already pissed. At you, me, everyone that wasn’t like him. You weren’t close to him. Chloé… She’s close to her family. We’re going to have to tread carefully there. I don’t want us to be the reason that ends.”

“Yeah, I agree.”

Ethan thought back to the defiant light in her eyes tonight after talking to her fathers, then looked up to the door leading out to the rooftop.

“She’s stubborn, and if anyone pushes too hard one way, I imagine she’ll just rebel.” He eyed Zayne’s mouth. “Sound familiar?”

“I might know a thing or two about that.”

“Uh huh. It’ll be interesting to see how it all plays out.”

“And what do we do till then?”

“I think, for now, we let her set the pace when it comes to this subject. This, us—it’s all new to her. She’s going to have to decide what she tells her fathers and when, and we’re just going to have to be patient.”

“I think you might be right. Whenever I was told I couldn’t do something, it only made me want to do it more.”

“Something I’m thankful for.”

Zayne chuckled. “I’m serious.”

“So am I. About then and now. You know me—I’m a big believer in fate. You walked into my life, and she walked into ours. If she’s meant to stay, she’ll stay.”

“And if she’s not?”

Ethan reached for the bottle and took a swig, not ready to answer that—because while he believed in fate, it didn’t mean he trusted her in any goddamn way.