Love, Chloe - Alessandra Torre Page 0,56

I stopped, and set down the phone, stepping away. I brought my hands to my head and took a deep breath. I needed help. Freakin’ psychological help to stay away from this man. I stepped back to my phone and called the next best thing.

The girls were still at the club. I asked them to come over, and they didn’t ask questions. “We’ll be there in twenty,” Benta said and—eighteen minutes later—she buzzed the front door.

Dante took a stool in the kitchen, Cammie went for the liquor, and I headed to the living room. “What’d he do?” Benta asked, plopping down on the chair, pulling off her heels and tucking her feet underneath her. “Do I need to kick his sexy ass or what?”

“It wasn’t Carter.” I sank into the couch.

“What the F is this?” The shout came from the kitchen and I didn’t move, just closed my eyes and waited. Cammie had obviously found the card. From beside me, I heard the scurry of bare feet as Benta rushed to her side.

“Holy shit, Chloe,” Benta said, her accent strong. “This is big, even for him.”

I heard the screech of the stool as Dante stood. Great, a freaking party around words specifically designed to break my heart. “Smooth,” he muttered and I heard the crinkle of the title as it passed hands.

“It’s not smooth,” Cammie snapped, and one of my kitchen drawers slammed shut. “It’s pushy.”

“And ridiculous,” Benta chimed in.

“And pimp,” Dante said. “And generous. And sweet.”

“It’s Vic,” I said helplessly, watching Cammie enter the living room, her hands steady as she poured me a large shot of Patrón.

“What does that mean?” Dante asked from the kitchen.

“It means,” Cammie said, passing me the glass. “That our little Chloe here is in trouble.”

It’s Vic. The girls understood. Three simple letters that make up a name. Three simple letters that spell

DOOM.

TROUBLE.

TEMPTATION.

I lifted the glass to my lips and downed it.

The next morning I called him.

“Hey babe.” Vic sounded ridiculously cheerful. Carefree. He was probably back on a beach, drink in hand, his yacht floating nearby. I stood on a dismal New York street, rain tapping against the top of my umbrella, a hangover blazing, and stared at my his car. There was a parking ticket, stuck on its windshield, soaked by the rain.

“You can’t do things like this.”

“Of course I can.” The confidence stretched through every syllable and why wouldn’t it? He was right. He could do anything he wanted. In Vic’s world there were no worries, no consequences, no ramifications.

“No, you can’t. I don’t want this car. Send one of your people to come pick it up.” His people used to be my people. His employees had picked up my dry cleaning, grabbed my groceries, driven my drunk self home. It had been the opening act to the rest of my life, a life that never happened. A life that was shattered that one, terrible afternoon.

“The car is in your name, Chloe.” His voice grew harder, more stubborn, the authoritativeness having the wrong effect on me.

“Put your hands on the wall.”

I didn’t question it, had put my hands on the gold-foil wall, my taupe nails digging into the surface when he ran his hands down my back, over the strings of my bathing suit and down to my ass, his fingers pulling my bathing suit to the side. We were in the Hamptons, at his family’s estate, the din of a hundred friends floating up the staircase from downstairs. “Vic,” I said softly, the word becoming a moan as his fingers pressed in between my legs.

“Shut up and face the wall. I can’t see your body another second without having it.”

“Someone will come upstairs,” I protested.

“Then they will see me fucking my girl, won’t they?” The words were as hard as his cock, the push of him taking my breath, my nails sliding down the wall, my fingers gripping the chair rail as he held my hips and eased himself out, then thrust back in.

“Say my name, Chloe. Tell me how much you love it.”

“I love it,” I gasped, my cries rising in volume as he let loose on me.

And I had loved it. I had loved when he’d ordered me around. Had loved it when he took control of my life and made it so easy for me. Had loved everything up until the moment I realized what it cost.

I swallowed hard and tried to concentrate. The car. That was what this was about. “I didn’t put the car in