by Tracy Wolff
Maybe it’s that there’s still so much to work out. Not so much between Chloe and me—she’s mine and I’m never letting her go again. That’s nonnegotiable. But everything else is so fucked up. My brother, her brother. My mother, her parents.
She doesn’t talk about her family much—not that I blame her after everything they did. I’m not absolving Brandon and my mother, or myself, of guilt in what happened to Chloe. But I blame her family almost as much as I blame mine. They sold her out, sold her innocence and her trust, in exchange for capital for their business. That’s not something I’ll ever be able to forget…or forgive.
Just one more knot in the dark tangle of the life we want to build together. The life we are building together.
I try not to let all the shit we’ve got to deal with bother me right now, but it’s harder than it should be considering the fact that we’re here to celebrate. My unease must be noticeable, though, because when Tori stops talking long enough to take a sip from the glass of wine she’s holding, Chloe leans up and presses a kiss to my cheek.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “She’s just really excited. She’ll calm down soon. I promise.”
“She’s not bothering me at all,” I answer truthfully. “I’m glad she’s here with you.” I turn my head, catch her next kiss on my mouth instead of my cheek.
I mean it to be just a quick brush of lips against lips, but she gasps at the first touch of my mouth to hers. Her lips open like a flower and then I’m sinking into the softness, into the sweetness, that is Chloe Girard-soon-to-be-Frost. Nothing has ever felt better.
She tastes like dark honey.
Like sweet wine.
Like a home I never had a clue I was missing before I met her.
The thought steadies me even as it turns me on. Bringing my hand to her hair, I tangle my fingers in her wild strawberry curls. She gasps again at the soft tug, then opens to me fully, her lips and tongue and mouth mine for the taking.
I delve inside, falling deeper into her with every breath, every stroke, every sigh. My tongue circles hers, slides against the side of her cheek, the roof of her mouth. And finally, finally, I feel myself relax. Because this is real. Chloe’s real. What we are together right now is real. And what we’ll build in the future is just as real.
That’s what matters. That’s all that matters. Everything else is just background noise.
“Seriously, you guys?” Tori finally demands, slamming her wineglass down on the small table beside her. “We’re five minutes from the damn hotel. You can’t wait that long?”
Chloe laughs a little, starts to pull away, but I hold her in place for just a few seconds more. Touching her, kissing her, makes it easier for me to breathe. Easier for me to think. She quiets me in a way nothing and no one ever has before and letting that go, letting her go, even for a few minutes, is harder than it should be.
I don’t know if she feels the same way, or if she’s just responding to the subtle tension that creeps through me at Tori’s words. Either way, she doesn’t move. Instead, she keeps her mouth pressed against mine as her hands stroke soothingly over my shoulders and down my back.
It feels good—really good—and there’s a part of me that wants to fuck her right here. I could slide my hands under her skirt, slip her panties down her legs. Follow that with a quick yank of my zipper and I could be buried balls-deep inside the slick wet heat of her in mere seconds.
I want that—want her—so badly that my hands are shaking with it. It’s the intensity of that need that finally has me pulling away and settling back against the cool leather of the seat. If I push it much further, I’m afraid I really will forget Tori’s in the car with us. Or cease to care that she is.
Chloe’s breathing is barely back to normal before we pull up in front of the Atlantis. Tori mutters something under her breath about sex maniacs and cold showers as she dives for the door, not even bothering to wait for the driver, or the doorman, to open it for her.
I follow at a more sedate pace, then reach a hand in to help Chloe from the car. I leave Geoffrey, the chauffeur I hire whenever I’m in town, and one of the doormen to figure out what to do with our luggage while I escort the ladies inside to register.
We’re only in line a few minutes—it’s the middle of the week and still early in the day by Vegas standards. But before Chloe and I can head for the elevators, Tori hands Chloe her key with a flourish. “Make sure you don’t spend so much time fucking that you forget to have them put my luggage in my room.”
Chloe blushes, but she’s laughing as only Tori can make her. “Where are you going to be?”
“I’m going to get a head start on shopping. God knows, at the rate you two are going, you’d probably end up walking down the aisle naked. It’s my duty as maid of honor to prevent that.” She narrows her eyes at me, even goes so far as to wag a finger in my face. “You get one hour, dude. One hour. And then she’s mine. I’ve got an afternoon at the spa set up and if she’s late, the whole day is going on your tab.”
“And here I’d expected the whole day to go on my tab to begin with,” I tell her with my most engaging smile.
She sniffs. “Charm will get you nowhere, Ethan Frost.”
“Excuse me, but I beg to differ.” Chloe wraps an arm around my waist. “It’s gotten me to Vegas with him, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah, well, I always said you were too easy,” Tori says with a wink and a sly grin. And then she’s turning away, heading toward the escalators that will take her to the shopping level with its exclusive, high-end shops.
“Hey, I learned it from you,” Chloe calls after her.
Two raised middle fingers are Tori’s only response.
We watch until she’s on the escalator, then—aware of just how quickly things can get out of control between Chloe and me—I drop a chaste kiss on her forehead. “I like your best friend.”
“She’s pretty great, isn’t she?”
I’m about to agree when I catch a glimpse of Sebastian striding past us. Pressing a hand to Chloe’s lower back, I propel her forward even as I call his name. Speaking of best friends…
He turns around a little impatiently, his eyes scanning the hotel lobby before coming to rest on me. His face lights up as he meets us halfway.
“Ethan! What are you doing here?”
I lean in, give him a quick one-armed hug. “I should be asking you the same thing. The last I heard you were doing a three-month stint in Haiti.”
He shrugs, the excitement on his face dying almost as quickly as it came. “Yeah, well, I had to cut the trip short. Thanks for your donation, by the way.”
“Always, man. It’s a good cause.” I pull Chloe in closer. “This is my fiancée, Chloe Girard. Chloe, this is Sebastian Caine. We’ve been friends since college and are currently on the boards of a couple charitable foundations together.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Chloe reaches out to shake Sebastian’s hand, her smile soft and eyes wide. She keeps glancing back and forth between us and all the questions she’s dying to ask are practically written on her face. Not that I blame her. Circumstances have made it so that I know all about her past while she knows very little about mine. Running into my college roommate—a guy who knew me before I was Ethan Frost, famous tech genius—has to intrigue her.
“It’s great to meet you, too,” Sebastian tells her. “Any fiancée of Ethan’s is a friend of mine.” He turns to me with a mock scowl. “How come this is the first I’m hearing about your engagement?”
“It just happened. This is kind of a celebration trip, actually.” Beside me, Chloe stiffens, casts me a surprised look. I shrug subtly. Sebastian’s my closest friend and of course I want him to know about the wedding. Just not yet. Not when it’s still so brand new I’m afraid one stray thought will jinx it. Not when we’re standing in the middle of the lobby of the most exclusive hotel in Vegas, just waiting to be overheard. And not when I have so many other things I want to discuss with him.
�
�And you’re staying in my hotel?”
I laugh at that. “I’m pretty sure you’d kick my ass if I stayed somewhere else.”
“Damn straight. Your trip is on me, obviously.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“Of course it is. It’s not every day one of my best friends gets engaged.” He turns to smile at Chloe, who is looking more than a little overwhelmed by Sebastian’s effusive generosity. But that’s just how he is—he grew up rich, but he’s one of the coolest, most down-to-earth guys I know. He’s also a huge philanthropist—one who actually goes into the field and gets his hands dirty building houses and hospitals, as opposed to just giving money to the cause. Of course, he does plenty of that, too. Which is just one of the reasons it surprises me so much that he gave up his job as CFO of a major charity to come back here and run this hotel.
“Congratulations, by the way. To both of you,” Sebastian continues. “I hope you’ll join me for dinner one night while you’re here, so we can celebrate?”
Chloe nods slowly, but she sounds sincere when she says, “I’d like that.”
“Good.” He smiles at her. “Tell Ethan to pick a day and we’ll make it happen.”
“Tomorrow night,” I say immediately. “We’ve got tickets to your Cirque show tonight. Chloe’s never been to one.” It’s not a lie. I did get tickets for the ten o’clock performance, after the wedding.
“It’s a good show,” Sebastian tells her. “I think you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I will.”
“All right, then. I’ll leave you guys to get settled in.” He claps me on the back. “Give me a call if you want to get a drink after the show tonight. Otherwise, I’ll plan on seeing you tomorrow—”
I grab the opportunity he’s presented me with. “Actually, Chloe just set up a couple hours at the spa for a facial and pedicure. Do you have some time to talk this afternoon?”
For a second, it looks like he’s going to turn me down. He’s a busy guy and probably has a shit-ton to do. Which is why I let him see in my eyes just a little of the urgency I’m feeling.
He nods. “Sure. Just text me whenever you’re ready.”
“Good. I’ll see you in a bit, then.”
“Absolutely.” Sebastian takes hold of Chloe’s hand, raises it to his lips like the charming bastard that he is. “It was lovely to meet you, Chloe. Back in school we always knew Ethan had good taste, but he’s obviously surpassed himself this time.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she answers with an amused eye roll.
“No, it won’t,” I tell him, pulling her even more tightly into my side. “Watch out for this one, Chlo. He’s trouble.”
“Once again, Ethan, I’m pretty sure you’ve gotten the two of us confused.”
He winks at Chloe, then claps me on the back a second time before striding quickly away.
“I like your friend,” she says as we finally make our way to the elevators.
“He’s a great guy.”
“I can tell. He’s the one in the picture you’ve got in your office at home, right? The one you go white-water rafting with?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
She nods, but doesn’t say anything else until we’re in our suite waiting for the bellman to deliver our luggage.
I watch as she takes off the light sweater she traveled in and drapes it across the arm of the couch before kicking off her shoes. Then she goes into the bathroom and closes the door behind her, still without a word. She turns the sink on, runs the water for a couple of minutes before turning it off. And then there’s nothing. No toilet flushing, no water running, no door opening. Nothing at all except a silence that suddenly seems oppressive.
“Chloe.” I knock on the door. “Are you okay?”
The door swings open. “I’m fine. I think I’m going to go down and meet Tori, though. I don’t want her to get impatient.”
I try to catch her eye, but she’s looking through me. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She starts to move past me, but I block her path. She still won’t look at me.
A hot lick of fear snakes through me, but I ignore it. She hasn’t changed her mind about marrying me in the twenty minutes it’s taken us to get from the limo to this room. Still, something’s going on with her and I need to know what it is.
“I need to go,” she says.
“What you need is to tell me what’s going on in your head right now.” I rest my hands on her shoulders gently, then just wait her out. She has to look at me—has to talk to me—eventually.
“Nothing. I’m fine. It’s stupid.” She glances up and this time I manage to catch her eye. Once I do, I hold her gaze with my own, refusing to let her look away again.
“Well, which is it?” I ask softly. “Is it nothing or is it stupid? Or are you fine?”
Her only answer is a shrug, but she doesn’t look away, so that’s something, I suppose.
“I thought we weren’t going to do this,” I tell her.
“Do what?” she finally asks, after a long, awkward silence.
“Lie to each other. Or is that restriction only on my side?”
She rolls her eyes. “This isn’t the same thing at all.”
“Then what is it?” I demand. “How am I supposed to know what to fix if you won’t tell me what’s wrong?”
“Has it ever occurred to you that I don’t need you to fix things for me?” she demands, shrugging my hands off her shoulders as she pushes her way past me.
“No. It really hasn’t.” I stand my ground, watch as she starts to pace back and forth along the wall of plate glass windows that gives a hell of a view of The Strip forty floors below us. “I fix things. That’s what I do. You knew that when you agreed to marry me.”
She whirls on me then, cheeks pink and eyes flashing. She looks hot—really hot—and for a second I miss what she’s saying because all I can think about is getting her into bed and making her scream.
The thought is so vivid, the need to have her moving underneath me so great, that I’ve taken a couple steps toward her before the words I heard but didn’t listen to finally register. I freeze in place. “What do you mean, what are we doing here?” I demand, suddenly as angry as she is. “We’re getting married.”
“Are we?”
“We sure as hell are. Why? Are you suddenly getting cold feet?” Just the thought is an ice pick to my gut.
“Are you?” She lifts an inquiring brow and somehow manages to look drop-dead sexy as she does it. Then again, I think everything this woman does is sexy. The way she smiles, the way she thinks. Hell, even the way she breathes turns me on, all slow and quiet and steady like she’s got everything under control. And she’s asking if I’m the one with cold feet? I would have married her six weeks ago if she would have had me.
“No! I’m marrying you, Chloe.”
“Then why didn’t you want Sebastian to know? My best friend is downstairs right now, shopping for my wedding dress and you didn’t even bother to tell your best friend.”
“Is that what this is all about? You’re upset because I didn’t tell Sebastian?”
“I’m concerned that you didn’t tell Sebastian.”
“We were standing in the middle of a crowded lobby, for God’s sake. Anyone could have overheard.”
“So what? I thought we were running off to Vegas to get married because you didn’t want to wait any longer. I didn’t realize it was because you wanted to keep it a secret.”
“Seriously? You think I want to keep it a secret?”
“Isn’t that what you just said?” she demands.
“If that’s what you heard, then I’m sorry. But no, that’s not what I said. It’s not what I meant.” I cross to her then, wrap my arms around her waist and pull her into my body. She holds herself stiffly against me at first, but she slowly relaxes as I rub soothing circles over her lower back.
“Jesus, Chloe,” I tell her when she finally leans into me, resting
her head on my chest. “Don’t you know by now that if it was up to me, I’d call my PR person and have him send a statement about our wedding to every newspaper and magazine in the country? I’d buy out the billboards in Times Square. I’d tell everyone. That’s how proud I am to be marrying you.
“But if I do that—or even if I let it leak—I’m not sure you’re ready for the publicity shitstorm that’s going to hit us. Paparazzi will follow you everywhere, hundreds of requests for interviews will come in, reporters will start digging into your life. It’s going to happen eventually, no matter what I do, but there are ways for us to control it. Ways for us to make sure it happens on our terms and not theirs.”
I lean down, press kisses to her temple, her cheek, her jaw. “I didn’t tell Sebastian in the middle of the hottest hotel lobby in Vegas because I was hoping to give you a little time to get used to being my wife before the circus starts. But if I was wrong and you’re ready to announce it, let’s do it. I’ll call Stu and have him work up a statement to release tomorrow morning, after we’re married.”
She shakes her head, buries her face in my chest. “No. No. You’re right. I’m sorry. I just—I don’t want you to rush into marrying me and then regret it, you know? You’re one of the most powerful men in the world and I’m—”
I stop her with a light finger over her mouth. “You’re the woman I love. The woman I adore. The woman, who, once she graduates from law school, is going to be one of the most kickass, formidable attorneys Frost Industries has ever had working for them.”
She laughs then, a low, melodious sound that has the tension leaking out of my spine even as it arouses me. “I never said I’d work for you after law school.”
“Frost Industries hires the best and brightest from all over the world. Why wouldn’t you want to work for us?”
“The same reason I’m not sure I’m going to come back as your intern. It seems—”
“Oh, you’re coming back as my intern,” I tell her as I start to unbutton the high collared blouse she wore to hide the proliferation of hickeys I gave her last night. “If I have to write it into our wedding vows, I will. But you’re definitely coming back. I need you.”