Okay, so in hindsight it might’ve been a good idea to let them know that her fathers owned JULIEN. That way they could’ve just kicked her out of the car—like her prom date did that time.
With a hand on the side of the vehicle and another on the frame of the door itself, Ethan caged her in and hopefully blocked her from view.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked, that thigh-tingling voice of his doing things to her that were probably not best when she was about to go and spend the afternoon with her family.
“Uh…”
Ethan frowned. “The time we should pick you up?”
“Oh.” Merde, get your head on straight, Chloé. “Um, I could catch a—”
“No.”
Chloé arched a brow, her immediate speech about being old enough to go out alone right on the tip of her tongue.
But before she could get a word out, Ethan spoke up.
“You will not catch public transport at insane hours in order to meet us. You’re too young and too beautiful. Anything could happen to you.”
While that sentiment should—and did—annoy her coming from everyone else in her life, with Ethan it felt different. It didn’t feel like a slight. Like she couldn’t look after herself. But more that he didn’t want her to have to.
Not anymore. Not while she was theirs.
“If you need a ride, we’ll send one. Or we could come and pick you up.”
“Aren’t you, um, going to work?”
Ethan’s lips curved, and Chloé wanted to kick herself in the ass—he knew she was hedging; of course she was. She’d told herself not to think about the fact they were going to be at a sex club tonight, and had instead convinced herself that they were going to dinner and a movie—and suddenly that wasn’t working for her.
“We are. But we can leave whenever we choose. One of the perks of owning the place.”
Chloé looked up and down the street and figured she could meet them out here tonight. It would be dark, and if worse came to worst, she could hide behind one of those enormous planters.
“Why don’t you meet me here? I could text you when I’m off work.”
“Perfect. Now say goodbye to Zayne.”
Chloé turned to see Zayne crook a finger at her. “Come here, little girl.”
Damn. How was she supposed to resist that? She unbuckled her belt and shifted forward on the seat, and when he grazed his lips over the top of hers, she thought she just might melt into it.
“I’ll see you later, Red.”
A shiver raced up her spine as he nipped at her lip, and a delicious ache hummed between her thighs. It’d be a miracle if she was able to walk from the car into the restaurant.
“My turn now.” Ethan’s voice in her ear had her turning, and when he took her chin in his hand, she braced for impact.
Instead, he kissed the corner of her lips and made his way up to her ear.
“Be ready for us tonight, petite fille. That means no panties when we see you next. Do you understand?”
Ethan arched a brow, all but daring her to refuse, but the throb he’d just added to between her thighs ensured she would do no such thing.
“Yes, sirs.” She looked at Zayne, making sure to include both of them in the sentiment, and his cocky grin made her nipples tighten.
Ethan stepped aside, and Chloé grabbed her work bag to climb out.
“Have a good day, Chloé.”
Putain. Arrogant, cocky men. They were going to drive her insane.
Oh, who was she kidding? She loved it.
But as she pushed through the revolving door of JULIEN, she did her level best to forget about them and their orders, or she’d never get through the day’s service.
With her head down, she gripped the handle of her bag and made a beeline through the main dining room, hoping to—
“Well, look who’s here on time today.”
—avoid her brother.
Chloé came to a stop and turned to see Justin walking over to the bar with two trays of glasses, and despite her impulse to hightail it to the kitchen, she dropped her bag on one of the barstools and went to take one of the trays off his hands.
“It’s not that unheard of, you know.”
Justin scoffed and headed around behind the bar. “Uh huh. So how you doing? Have a good week?”
Oh thank God—she was in the clear. He hadn’t seen her arrival, and that meant she could breathe again.
“It was good. I’ve been hanging out with Shay a lot.”
“Oh yeah?” Justin slid the tray onto the back counter. “Doing what?”
Lying. “Um, you know, fixing up her apartment a bit.”
“You mean her shoebox. What could possibly need fixing there?”
Chloé hefted the glasses up onto the counter beside his and rested a hip against the bar. “Some painting here and there. Walls, cabinets, the usual.”
“Ah, gotcha.” Justin slung a dishtowel over his shoulder and began to slide the martini glasses into the rack overhead, and Chloé took that as her cue to get out of Dodge.
She headed back around the bar, and as she picked up her bag, she heard, “So who was the guy dropping you off today?”
Chloé’s feet froze, and she looked over to see Justin leaning back against the counter with his hands shoved in his pockets.
“Huh?”
Justin narrowed his eyes and crossed over to the bar. Chloé’s palms began to sweat.
“Who was the guy who dropped you off today?”
Merde. How had he even seen that? “Dropped me off?”
“Don’t do that. You’re too smart for that. Who was the guy in the SUV, Chloé?”
“No one.” The lie tumbled out much easier than it should’ve.
“Really?” Justin shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “Because he looked an awful lot like one of the two guys who was in here last weekend.”
If the ground wanted to open up and swallow her now, she really wouldn’t complain. “They’re just friends.”
“They’re. So they were both there?”
Putain. Stop talking, Chloé.
“And what happened to ‘pleased customers’?”
“They were that too,” she snapped, in full defense mode now. “And since when is it a crime for me to have friends?”
“It’s not. In fact, I think it’s great.” Justin came around the counter. “We should go and tell Dad and Père about these new friends of yours. I bet they’d be more than happy to invite them to a meal in the skybox.”
He went to walk by her, and Chloé grabbed at his arm. “Don’t you dare.”
“Uh huh. That’s what I thought.”
“Look, I already have three fathers—I don’t need a fourth.”
Justin let out a sigh. “I get that, but—”
“But what? Would you want me interfering if I saw you with some guy?”
“You have interfered. Many times. And we’re not talking about me. I’m an adult.”
“So am I.”
“Technically, you’re still a tee—”
Chloé punched him in the arm. “Don’t say it. They’re just friends.”