loses everything.
My phone rang as I opened the door, and I answered it, stuffing it against my shoulder as I lifted out Nicole’s groceries.
“Chloe Madison?” a stiff male voice asked.
“Yes?” I said warily.
“This is Agent Peter Hertslem. I’m calling about your parents.”
I shouldered the door closed and leaned against it, my hands full with bags, my heart beating hard in my chest. “I don’t know where they are,” I lied. Dad had pulled me aside before they left, whispering their itinerary, which had included a stop in the Hamptons before their flight to Dubai.
“I’m not calling for that, Ms. Madison. We know where they are.”
“You do?” Dante paused, and I waved him on, my chest growing tight, the life of a fugitives’ daughter stressful.
“Oh yes,” he said, with an air of superiority. “I’m looking at them right now.”
The FBI picked up my parents at the airport just an hour after they’d left my apartment. Yet, it took four days to get that call from the FBI, one that was apparently “just for courtesy” to inform me of their detainment.
Four days since they had been arrested and flown back to Florida, and that call was the only one I’d received. One from a smug stranger. Didn’t prisoners get phone calls? They must have made theirs to someone else.
I wondered, for a day or so, if they thought that I’d turned them in, if that was the reason for their silence. But if they thought I was a daughter who’d snitch, they wouldn’t have come to say goodbye. And they certainly wouldn’t have told me their plans—my mind stalled, bits of the agent’s conversation coming to mind. The airport. Wait. Mom and Dad wouldn’t have flown to the Hamptons. They would have driven. Much less inconspicuous, much less chance of being caught—plus Mom loves that drive. And the Hamptons were northeast of the city, not south. They wouldn’t have been at the airport unless…
It took me longer to connect the dots than it should have. For the last hours, my mind had just conveniently skipped over the fact that my father had completely lied to me about their itinerary. Either as a safety measure in case I ratted, or as a way to throw the cops off their trail in the expectation that I would rat. Both options dismal signs of my parents’ faith in me.
Inside, I felt one of the last bonds between me and my parents break.
I was torn. I wanted to be selfish, to hold Carter tightly to me and never let him go. But then I’d be responsible for him losing his inheritance. How could I do that to someone I loved? Wasn’t the sign of true love putting the other person’s needs before your own?
A part of me was egotistic enough to think he’d be happier with me than with his trust fund. I looked at how much better my own life was without my parents’ money, and how much richer I was with him in my life.
Regardless, it wasn’t my decision to make. It was his.
93. Coercion is a Dish Best Served Wet
“Move in with me.”
The words didn’t register. Maybe because my head was tilted back, hard against the pillow, my nails scraping against the top sheet, trying to find something to hold on to. Or maybe the issue was the fact that his mouth was so far away, the heat of his words hot against my naked skin, his tongue finishing off the final syllable with a flick across my sensitive clit.
“Oh God,” I groaned when his tongue changed, from a flick to a flutter, soft and hot, the constant pressing going faster and faster, bringing me closer and closer…
I arched off the mattress, pushing myself harder into his mouth…
And he stopped. “Move in with me.”
My body yearned, the need intense, my hands reaching down, in between my legs, just a touch needed to…
He grabbed both of my wrists and slid forward, pinning them to either side of my head, my sexual haze lifting as I blinked at him. “Chloe.”
“Carter,” I shot back, struggling against his grip, my hips bucking off the bed, the orgasm still right there, just needing the right touch…
His body was now on top of me, a fine stretch of muscles that—at any other point in time—would have been celebrated. But right then, I could only think of one thing: my rapidly fading orgasm.
“Will you move in with me? You can have the big closet.”
“I’m so close.” I worked my legs