Oh God. Chloé’s thighs tightened. Am I really considering this? Being trained by them? What does that even mean?
“Is this… Do you do this often?”
“No. We don’t.”
“But we enjoyed you, Red.” Zayne winked at her. “So much we want you again. And again. And again.”
Chloé’s pulse raced and her cheeks heated. “And just so I’m not mistaken, you want to train me to—”
“Be our submissive. What do you say, petite fille?”
What did she say? She could barely think, let alone speak.
These two sexy men—who could have anyone at their club—wanted her. That was… It was crazy, and she’d be crazy to say no. Friday night had been unlike anything she’d experienced before, and she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it—or them.
What was really tripping her up was the submissive angle. That’d been fun for a night, but she wasn’t sure she wanted more than that. But maybe they could do a little renegotiation. Maybe she could add in her own stipulations.
Huh, that wasn’t such a bad idea.
“Could we, um, meet up and renegotiate a little before…you know?”
Zayne’s grin had her praying the answer was yes, but somehow she knew the final answer had to come from Ethan—who inclined his head.
“We can.”
She swallowed and nodded. “Okay, then.”
“Okay, you’re interested?”
“Yes. I want another night too. Or however many nights we decide on.”
“Good.” Ethan sat back and gestured to their empty plates. “The meal tonight, by the way, was delicious.”
Chloé got an inordinate amount of pleasure from that compliment, and couldn’t help her smile. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“It’s a pity we can’t thank you more privately. But we’ll make up for it the next time we see you. I think we’ve taken up enough of your time, chef. We’ll expect a call by tomorrow to set up a meeting, or we’ll assume you changed your mind.”
Chloé licked her lips. That subtle order made her panties wet in an instant. There was no doubt in her mind she’d be calling them, but first she needed to talk this through with someone. She needed to make sure wasn’t making a monumental mistake. But because she was feeling cheeky, she took a step closer to the two men and pointed to the menu.
“If I were you, I’d go with the peach galette for dessert. I have very nice peaches. You should both taste them before you leave.”
Zayne shook his head as Ethan leaned in and said, “Careful, petite fille.”
“Now where’s the fun in that, sir?”
She grinned and backed away from the table, her entire body humming with the knowledge that it was going to experience the both of them sooner rather than later. But as she turned to head back into the kitchen, her eyes locked with Justin’s, and it was like a bucket of cold water had just been thrown over her head. He was standing behind the bar, looking between Ethan and Zayne’s table and herself, and the expression on his face was that of a protective big brother.
Merde. As she got closer, she quickened her step, hoping to just skate on by—but no such luck.
“Chloé?”
“Sorry, can’t stop,” she said, walking the length of the bar. “Got to get back to the kitchen.”
But Justin wasn’t letting her get away that fast. “Who are those men?”
“Huh?” Don’t look. Don’t look. But before she could help herself, she glanced in Ethan and Zayne’s direction, and when she caught them watching her with obvious interest, her knees almost gave out. “Oh, no one, just guests complimenting the chef.”
“Guests?”
“That’s right.” She flashed a cheery smile at her brother. “Stop being nosey and let them enjoy their meal. I’m sure Père would be most upset if we got a bad review due to your scowling.”
“I’m not scowling.”
“Yes you are,” she singsonged, and started off again toward the kitchen. “If you’re not careful, you’ll get wrinkles.”
Justin’s brow pulled even further down as he touched the lines on his forehead. “I don’t have wrinkles.”
She laughed and gave him a quick wave, pleased that she’d managed to distract him from the original subject at hand. Then she hightailed it back to the kitchen before he could remember what they’d been talking about.
CHAPTER TEN
If you don’t want someone to find out your secrets,
You really shouldn’t write them down.
~ Chloé
“DID YOU BRING the wine?”
Chloé sat up in the lounger on her father’s roof as Shayla stepped out onto it and held up a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.
“Wine, chocolate, and a notebook. Just as requested.”
“Ah, you’re the best.”
“That I am.” Shayla walked over to the large umbrella and put her mammoth beach bag down by the lounger next to Chloé’s. “You said it was an emergency, and drinking on a weekday? I figured it was important. I came as soon as I could.”
“Hey, it’s five o’clock somewhere, but yes, it’s important. Trust me.”
It was also slightly nerve-racking. Okay, a whole lot nerve-racking, because she was finally going to tell someone what she’d done the other night, and she wasn’t sure she could actually say the words out loud.
Because how did even you work into conversation that you’d had a threesome?
“Well, you’ve definitely got me intrigued.” Shayla tossed the notebook down beside Chloé, and then reached into her bag for two plastic wine glasses.
Chloé laughed. “Classy.”
“We were bought up by Bianchis. Classy is our middle name. Now, hold this while I look for—” Shayla fished around in her bag of tricks and pulled out a corkscrew. “Ta-da! I knew I had it. Right, let’s get this poured, the chocolates opened—I got your favorite, dark Belgian—and then you can spill all your secrets.”
“What makes you think I have a secret?”
Shayla paused halfway through the cork extraction. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t? You’ve been leaving cryptic messages on my phone all week to cover your ass. I know when you’re hiding something.”
She totally did, so she might as well fess up. “Okay, you win. I have a secret.”
“Mhmm, that’s what I thought.” Shayla popped open the wine, and once both glasses were filled, she took a long sip and relaxed back in her lounger. “Okay, spill.”
Chloé chewed on her lower lip, trying to decide where best to start, and was thankful she’d grabbed a pair of sunglasses on her way out here earlier. It somehow seemed easier to talk about this when she wasn’t looking her cousin in the eye.
“So, um, you know how you took me to The Office for my birthday?”
“Yeah… Oh God, did your fathers find out? Mom will kill me if Uncle Robbie is on a rampage—”