She sent off a quick text to Shayla letting her know where she was headed, and that she would send the actual address when she got there. Then she told herself to sit back, enjoy the trip, and try not to think too hard.
That was easier said than done, though, when it was becoming increasingly obvious that this was way more than a night above their sex club. Now she was being driven out to their house to spend the weekend.
Wait, how was she going to get to work tomorrow? In the city she could just call a cab, but out here… She looked at the driver up front and grimaced. Not exactly the most inconspicuous way to arrive at her father’s restaurant.
Ugh, okay, she’d worry about that later. Not now. Right now, she was going to focus on relaxing and breathing…
She was doing pretty well, too, until they turned onto a street and her driver said, “We’re coming up to their place now.”
Chloé glanced up at the street name, Sheridan, and as the car slowed at a set of scrolled wrought-iron gates, which parted the second the car turned into the drive, her jaw fell into her lap.
Oh my God. What is this place?
Chloé lowered the window as the car made its way up an extended drive toward a Spanish-like mansion, where she found herself looking at an enormous pool surrounded by lush trees and perfectly manicured grounds. A gorgeous two-story cabana—that was bigger than most people’s regular homes—overlooked the sparkling water, and as they reached the front entrance of the house, the peaceful sound of a fountain at the end of the pool instantly set the mood.
Calm. Tranquil. Private.
She could definitely see the appeal. This place was like a resort, and situated as it was on the North Shore, the house itself—if it could even be called a house—would no doubt provide views that were even more spectacular than what she was looking at now.
“Welcome to the Holt Estate.”
Now that was the perfect word for the place—estate.
As Chloé sat there, trying to wrap her head around the grandness of the place, the car came to a stop and her door was pulled open.
As she stepped out of the Escalade, the driver headed up the front stairs. She followed behind, trying to take in everything she could see—but when he pushed open the door and said, “The bosses know of your arrival—enjoy your stay,” her feet faltered.
“Wait.”
She spun around, about to ask where she should go and what she should do next, but he was already down the stairs and climbing back in the car.
“Miss Chloé?”
She turned to see a lovely-looking lady in black pants and a tailored shirt waiting in the foyer for her. Her jet-black hair was slicked back in a ponytail, and her face—while devoid of any makeup—was absolutely flawless.
Damn, you knew someone was stunning when they took your attention off the perfect postcard view of the lake stretching out behind her.
“Uh, yes, that’s me.”
“My name’s Isla. The bosses are waiting for you on the upper level. You’ll find the elevator directly behind you.”
Chloé glanced over her shoulder and spotted a gorgeous wrought-iron door.
“This is the only way to access that floor.” Isla handed her a brass skeleton key with a black tassel, then gave a clipped nod. “Enjoy your stay.”
Wow, okay. That’s not intimidating at all.
As Isla disappeared into one of the many arched alcoves, Chloé looked at the key in her hand and her heart started to thump erratically.
What was it with these guys and elevators?
She walked over to the door and, when she reached out to put the key in the lock, noticed her hand was shaking. She closed her eyes for a minute and tried to get her nerves under control. But that was close to impossible when she thought about what might be waiting for her on the top floor of this beautiful Spanish villa.
She inserted the key and pulled open the door, and after she stepped inside and it locked behind her, she pushed the lone black button on the panel.
Chloé’s heart beat in time with the throbbing between her legs, and with the lack of a thong or anything under her dress, she was acutely aware of just how excited she was despite the nerves. Her thighs were slick, her clit swollen, and every step she took pushed her sensitive body into overdrive.
She ran the soft tassel over her palm and felt the thrill of anticipation claw at her. After being teased and tormented and denied soon after, her body was right on the edge of frustration and satisfaction, and she hoped that whatever waited for her at the top of this elevator would take care of both of those things.
When the car stopped and the door opened, Chloé took in a deep breath and reached for the handle. She pushed it open, but as she stepped out, nothing could’ve prepared her for what she saw.
A beautiful bedroom, boasting a grand four-poster canopy bed crafted from thick, heavy wood, sprawled out before her, taking her breath away. It captured the look and feel of Old World Spain, and the twisted marble pilasters with carved wooden leaves held up a billowing canopy that offered both romance and privacy.
It was situated in a large suite with one-eighty-degree views of the lake, and as spectacular as that was, what was at the end of the bed was even more so.
Ethan stood in a pair of black pants and dress shirt. He had the sleeves rolled up his forearms and an intense expression across his face. Kneeling by his side with his arms behind his back and tied to his ankles was Zayne. In nothing other than a black blindfold and a pair of tight black boxer briefs. He had his head bent in a submissive pose.
As Chloé’s brain tried to catch up and make sense of what she was seeing, a sinful smirk tugged at Ethan’s lips.
“Welcome to our home, petite fille. We’ve been waiting for you.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
He is my master.
I am his boy.
~ Z
CHLOÉ’S HEART POUNDED as her eyes flicked from Zayne to Ethan, and then back to Zayne, who remained exactly the way he’d been since she stepped off the elevator.
Head lowered.
Eyes covered.
Hands bound.
He was completely still, completely silent, completely submissive as he knelt by Ethan’s side, and the sight was so unexpected that Chloé’s mind began to spin out.
What was going on here? Had she gotten this all wrong? She’d thought they wanted her to be their submissive, so what was Zayne doing down on his knees?
Her hand tightened around the key she still held, the anticipation she’d felt seconds ago twisting into something a little darker now.
“Chloé.”
She raised her eyes to meet fierce, amber-colored ones, and felt an almost hypnotic draw as Ethan ran his hand over Zayne’s short hair.
“This is my boy, Z. Beautiful, isn’t he?”
Chloé swallowed, not really knowing what to say because yes, Zayne was absolutely beautiful with his bulging muscles, tattooed arms, and pierced nipples, but would he want her looking at him like this?
This image of him was so far removed from the arrogant, cocky dom she’d met on every other occasion that she wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to say.
“I asked you a question, petite fille. Do you think my boy is beautiful?”
Chloé looked back to Zayne again, taking in the sharp angle of his masculine jaw line, and the stubble made his soft lips stand out in contrast. She could see his Adam’s apple shadowed by the same five o’clock shadow, and as her gaze trailed down to his broad shoulders, her breathing came a little faster.