Justin eyed her, and Chloé did her level best not to fidget. “Okay, but you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
She did know that, but she also knew what gossips her family could be. It was one of the things she loved the most about them—if she wasn’t the topic of conversation.
“Right… Because when I’m talking to you, it’s only you I’m talking to. Not Papa, not Dad, not Papounet?” She raised her brows. “Do I look stupid to you?” Justin grinned, and she held up a finger. “Don’t say it.”
“I was going to say we worry about you, that’s all.”
“That’s not all. You four hover around me like helicopter parents. When I go to the store, when I go out with friends, when I exercise—”
“We do not.”
“Yes, you do. And I appreciate it and love you all very much, but sometimes that makes it hard to—” Chloé cut herself off before she said something stupid like hook up or get laid. Yeah, that’d go down really well with her big brother.
“Makes it hard to what?” Justin took a seat.
“Nothing. It’s just, at some point I have to be able to go and live my life. I’m not even allowed to go running on my own.”
“Come on, there’s a reason for that, and you know it.”
“Because I’m a girl?”
He automatically started to deny it, but Chloé arched a brow. “Yes, okay. Of course that’s one of the reasons. You’re a girl, and guys are perverts.”
Chloé snorted. “You should know. All I’m saying is, would it kill you guys to give me a little space? A little privacy?”
“I mean, it probably wouldn’t kill us…” He grinned. “But I can talk to them, try to get them to understand your point of view.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“But it comes with a caveat.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
Justin shrugged. “The caveat is, if you ever need to talk about something, or need to get out of trouble, or—”
“I get the point.”
“—you can always call me.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
“Of course, silly.” Chloé got up and took a seat by her brother. “You’ve been getting me out of trouble for as long as I can remember.”
“More like covering for you.”
“Same thing.”
“Yeah, but I’m old now, and you might think—”
“Old?” She laughed and shoved him in the arm. “You’re twenty-nine, that’s not old.”
“It is according to my sixteen-year-old students. And you’re not much older than they are, kiddo.”
“Okay, I take it back—that’s something an old person would say.”
Justin glared at her, and his expression was so stern that she couldn’t help but laugh.
He shook his head and looked over her casual clothes. “You’re really bailing out on our run today, huh?”
“Yeah, sorry. But I’m going to swing by the farmers’ market before work. You want anything special for dinner? I can bring it to the restaurant.”
“Hmm, surprise me.” He kissed her on the head and got to his feet. “Lock up for me?”
“You got it. Be safe. I won’t be there to protect you if you’re not.”
He shot the finger at her, making her laugh, then headed out the door. She had to admit, helicopter parents or not, she wouldn’t trade her family for the world.
“JESUS, REMIND ME why I’m doing this again?” Zayne looked at Ethan in the driver’s seat and wished like hell they were anywhere other than where they were right now.
He could think of several places he’d rather be, but top of that list was the bed they’d crawled out of to drive all the way out here. His mind drifted back to their comfy mattress and warm covers, where they’d been reliving Friday night over and over until the memories led to making some new ones of their own.
But now, they were sitting in a car outside of his childhood home.
Talk about an instant cock deflater.
“We don’t have to. I can turn the car around, head back to the city, and call and make our excuses. Just say the word.”
And that was one of the main reasons he loved Ethan Holt. No matter the time, place, or situation, if Zayne was uncomfortable or unhappy, Ethan would move heaven and earth to change the situation. But not even Ethan could change who and where he came from, and Zayne knew if he left now without making an appearance, he’d only pay for it later—that was the senator’s way.
“Nah, let’s just go and get it over with. If he’s summoning me out here on a Sunday, there has to be a reason. The last thing I want to do is give him an excuse to come and track me down.”
“That we can agree on. Plus, it’s better to go in with a plan than have to deal with a sneak attack.”
“You have a plan?”
“Get in. Get out. And don’t punch your father in the face?”
Zayne snorted and reached for Ethan’s hand. “I’d much rather you do something else with these hands.”
“So would I, but not here.”
Zayne sighed and shoved open his door. “All right, then, let’s get this the fuck over with.”
They climbed out the car and headed up the gravel path to what they fondly referred to as “the doors of hell,” and just before he knocked, he glanced over to see Ethan watching him.
“What?”
“I was just thinking about what a great person you are despite where you came from.”
“Nice try.” He knocked on the door.
“What am I trying?”
“To distract me, and I appreciate it, but we both know I was a total shit when we first met.”
“Hmm, and that just made me want to fuck you even more.”
Zayne chuckled, which was amazing considering where they currently stood, but that was Ethan’s way. He was distracting him. Ethan was making sure he was okay.
The heavy wooden door yawned wide, and Harold—his father’s butler—stood at attention. He was the stereotypical old-man butler, from the grey hair to the dour expression, right down to the pinstripe suit.
It always amazed Zayne that these kinds of traditions still existed. But hey, if you had a kid that you wanted nothing to do with, a house butler was the best way to ensure you didn’t need to be around.
Well, at least until that kid was old enough to question it, then you just send them away.
“Master Z. It’s so good to see you.”
Zayne smiled at the old man. It was ironic that his was the only real “friendly face” around, considering Zayne wasn’t sure he knew how to actually smile.
“Hey, Harold. Is he home?”
“He is home, but currently taking a call.”
“I’m sure.”
“I can take you to the drawing room if that suits you and young Ethan here.”
Zayne had to hold back a laugh that anyone would call Ethan young, because even at age fourteen, Ethan had long left childhood behind.
Harold stepped aside and gestured for them to enter. As they walked into the drawing room, Zayne felt the ice-cold shiver of condemnation skate down his spine.