Cheater

35. Chloe

It’s not a full on trembling I’m doing, but I keep getting hand tremors and belly swoops as I try to get ready amid lots of hot whooshes between my thighs. Because I keep getting flashbacks.

He was like an animal devouring me. He bit me. He drew my blood. Licked it. Came on my skin. If he could’ve written his name on me in semen, I think he would have. He looked supremely pleased with himself as he did it.

This wasn’t going through the motions to do what he thought I’d like. This was what he wanted. And it was visceral, carnal, primal.

And then he carried me into the shower and painstakingly washed me clean, kissing me, smiling at me the whole time. Inadvertently tickling my feet as he even got between my toes. I didn’t laugh, though. I just got increasingly uncomfortable and fidgety with the whole thing.

And now the swoony psycho wants me to wear a pretty dress to meet his parents.

This ought to be interesting.

I look through the clothing he sent and am miffed about the fact that the two blue dresses do seem to be the most suitable for a brunch with fancy, rich people. I wasn’t planning to wear one of the blue ones and have him think I did it to please him, it’s just that the other dresses are either too business-like, too sexy, or more for a vacation or an afternoon wandering antique shops or farmer’s markets. The two blue dresses are both perfect for a brunch at a significant other’s parents – not that I think of him as my other half – but I decide on the slightly demurer option.

I grab the dress, some of the new underthings, and a pair of the new shoes, some strappy espadrilles. As he slips out in a towel, I move back toward the bathroom, since that’s where all my makeup and hair stuff is.

His eyes flash with heat as he sees which dress I’m taking in with me and he crowds me, making sure I see the smile as I try to glide by him on my way back in.

I say nothing as I close the door over, but it won’t close tight, because he broke it. The latch is hanging by just one screw.

I shake my head as I survey the damage and then decide to get on with this. Today ought to be interesting, hopefully presenting an opportunity to talk to a member of the Steele family about this problem. Since I don’t know what to make of his sister, I’ll be assessing the rest of them in an effort to choose the one most likely to help.

I’m almost done blow drying my hair when Derek comes in, dressed in a dark suit and depositing a mug of coffee beside me on the vanity counter.

He kisses the side of my head. I see his lips move as he smiles, and I can’t hear what he’s saying with the hairdryer going, though am pretty sure I lip-read the word beautiful. My finger hovers briefly over the switch but I decide against turning it off. I’m supposed to be being bitchy.

Though, being bitchy when he kissed me this morning did not have the effect of turning him off. At all.

At that thought, more belly dips ensue.

I’ve got frayed nerves as we leave, as I ponder how this day might go. He takes my hand as soon as I’m in the hallway, looking at a waiting and smiling Grace Steele who is standing by the elevator.

“Good morning!” she sunnily greets, “We’ll go together.”

“No,” Derek counters. “We have plans afterwards.”

“What plans?” she asks and smiles bigger, catching me staring at her gorgeous shoes.

She’s looking breathtaking in a flowy ivory, red, and gold dress, which is pretty and suits her, but the showstopper is the shoes. Shoes that probably cost more than one of my bi-weekly paychecks. They’re strappy platform sandals with bling-laden gold flowers at the toe strap, a blingy red flower at the ankle, and red soles.

“A surprise for Chloe,” Derek says, and lifts my hand so he can press his lips to my index knuckle.

I don’t react visibly, but I’m thinking I’ve had way more than enough surprises from Derek already.

“Drive me there, then, and I’ll get someone else to drop me back off. Or I’ll use Daddy’s or Mom’s driver.” She steps into the waiting elevator.

“Nice, right?” she asks, so I look up from her shoes to her face. She knows I’m admiring them, so she bends her leg to show it off.

“Very,” I say.

“Why don’t you take your own car?” Derek asks, holding the elevator door and gesturing for me to go ahead of him.

“Because…” she drawls, “I plan to get snockered. Why else? You know how these SS brunches go.” Her gaze slides my way. “Yes, I occasionally refer to Shannon Steele with the same acronym as Hitler’s elite guard. Not making light of the holocaust – more like… describing Mom’s personality when it comes to parties. Wanna get drunk with me, Chloe?” She links arms with me.

I startle in surprise.

“I promise, it’ll make this brunch more pleasant.”

“Maybe next time,” Derek answers for me in a droll tone as the elevator door closes.

“You’re no fun,” she complains. “Me and Nay will definitely be snockered. So will Mom.”

“When isn’t she? And I disagree. I happen to be a bit of fun,” he corrects, a little smile on his face and then his voice drops lower, “Isn’t that right, Chloe?”

My face burns. I stare at the elevator lights.

Grace barks out laughter and it’s so animated, my body shakes with hers as she’s still got my arm linked with hers. “Wow. Who are you and what have you done with my brother? Girl…” She bumps me with her shoulder. “If you think about leaving my brother, I will kidnap you and bring you back. I love your dress.”

Derek busts up laughing again and as handsome as my crazy stalker always looks when he laughs, my eyes are now pointed at his sister who looks both shocked and delighted to watch her brother laugh.

She follows us to Derek’s SUV, and I’m grateful for the distraction of having her along for the ride.

I try to get into the back seat, but she denies me the distance from her brother, and he mutters, “Nice try,” once I’m in the passenger seat, buckling up.

“Everyone coming?” Derek asks as he gets onto the interstate.

“Yep,” she says. “It’ll be strange this year, won’t it?”

Derek doesn’t answer right away so she prompts, “Without Thad.”

My eyes bounce to his face.

“This is the first anniversary party without him,” Grace adds, for my benefit.

Seeing no change on Derek’s face, I twist to make eye contact with Grace. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I tell her.

“Thank you, Chloe,” she replies softly.

“I might not be happy to be here, but I sure know how strange and hard first everythings are after losing a sibling,” I add.

Grace doesn’t look distraught or upset at this comment, which I find strange.

“I don’t know that hard is the right word,” Grace finally says.

“You’ve still got five other siblings,” Derek says nonchalantly.

My expression must betray my horror at how blasé he’s being because Grace speaks up.

“We all had a complicated relationship with Thad. He wasn’t well-liked by anyone in the family other than our mother. In fact, of course… I mean… it was a shock that he was murdered, but Thad’s nickname was Thorn. He was a thorn in everyone’s side. He was quite… disturbed.”

I’m frowning. Not because of what she’s said, because if it’s rumored that he killed two wives and these two didn’t like him, none of them liked him, does that mean nobody will help me? If they’re all supposedly afraid of Derek, my plan might not go anywhere.

I deflate and stare out the window. I may need an alternate plan if today proves fruitless.

Do I defy Derek and share details about the stalking, the invasion of privacy, the threats?

I feel his hand wrap around mine. His thumb caresses the back of my hand, then grazes my naked ring finger. I stare at it for a minute realizing once again that it doesn’t feel strange that the ring is gone. How strange that it doesn’t feel strange. Maybe that’s because it seemed so easy for Adam to let me walk away. A lump forms in my throat; stinging hits my sinuses, but I push away the emotion. I don’t need to cry right now. I don’t need to ruin my makeup before getting to Derek’s parents’ place, not that I want to go, but I certainly don’t want to look like a non-credible walking disaster if I do manage to find someone I can talk to about helping wrangle their son or brother.

My eyes rove from his hand on mine up to his face as he drives one-handed, sunglasses on, looking devastatingly handsome in his dark suit, black and blue tie. The blue in the tie matches my dress.

He told me I looked gorgeous just before we left as he backed me up and caged me against the wall. He tried to make out with me, but I ducked under his arms and escaped back into the master bedroom closet to choose some earrings and a necklace from the selection of items Nicola the shopper sent.

“Chloe?”

I’m abruptly jerked out of my thoughts by Grace. I pull my hand back out of Derek’s grip.

“Hm?”

“I was asking you about what happened to your sibling. Is that too painful to talk about?”

“Oh, yes, it’s still painful, but… my brother died when we were teens.”

“How’d he die?”

“Brain tumor.”

“I’m so sorry. That must have been terrible.”

“It was,” I say hoarsely and clear my throat.

Bryan is a sacred subject to me, so I’m relieved when she changes the subject by asking where I grew up.

“Dayton,” I say. “You?” I add belatedly.

“We were all in boarding schools with some exchange programs. Our parents wanted us to be culturally literate, so we’ve all done multiple continents. Well, Ash kept getting expelled so wound up doing most of his high school years here in Columbus at the public school. If he’d gotten kicked out of that last option, he’d have landed himself in a military school known for being rather… brutal. We all know he was bribing the public school’s principal to overlook his shenanigans so that wouldn’t happen. Technically we all grew up here between semesters, though. Have you met any of the others? Did Derek give you the lowdown?”

“No and no,” I reply.

“So, there’s Elijah, our oldest brother. He’s married. None of us has any kids yet. Lord help whoever is the first to make our mother a grandmother. She could have a coronary when it happens.” She snickers. “Then there was Thad born next. He… you don’t need the gory details. He was very temperamental. Classic narcissist. Development delays but coddled by his nanny and our mother and then… yeah, no point going into detail. Anyway, then Derek here before Jonah. Jonah’s single. Asher is single. Nay is married. Ash and Naomi are fraternal twins, but they don’t get along. In fact they pretend one another doesn’t exist. Then there’s little ole me.”

“And you’re single, I take it?” I ask, just to keep the conversation going.

“I am,” she says wistfully and then lets out a dramatic sigh.

I look down as I feel Derek taking my hand again.

I try to pull it away, but his grip tightens. The vibe he’s giving is so sexually charged, it makes the contents of my belly take a dive.

“It’ll just be all of you with your parents today then?” I ask over my shoulder. “Or other relatives as well?”

“I don’t think Eli’s wife will come. They’re having … issues. And she and our mother don’t exactly see eye to eye so she avoids Steele family things whenever she can. Nay’s husband loves being a Steele spectator and would typically come, but Joshua is a neurosurgeon and she said he had a big surgery, so he won’t be there. You’ll meet him at the bigger party, I’m sure. And that’s where you’ll meet the rest of the Steele clan. Cousins. Uncles. Aunts. So forth. There are a lot of us.”

Great. All these people today and me the only outsider.

“The big party next weekend will be all sorts of family and friends, a lot of business associates and A-listers. It’ll be a bash. We’ll get drunk then, too.”

Not if I can find my way out of this situation by then.

Grace adds, “By the way, our mom will give you a whole talk about dealing with the media. Any new love interest gets the speech. Don’t let it scare you. I mean, it’s a serious thing so do take what she says seriously but don’t let it scare you. She can be dramatic.”

We pull up to an impressive estate behind gates that open with a remote Derek has on his visor. I’m about to ask why there is a valet if there are only immediate family members expected, and those family members have remotes to get in, but don’t bother. It’s not like I’m truly interested in the family dynamics anyway. My goal is to figure out who to talk to and go from there.

After a valet takes Derek’s car, we’re greeted by a smiling man opening the front door and guiding us inside. I quickly realize that wealth at this level is not something I’m accustomed to.

“Carson,” Derek greets the man who welcomes us in.

“Mr. Steele,” the man greets, then his face warms as he looks at Grace. “Miss Steele. Lovely as always.”

She kisses his cheek with a flourish.

“This is Chloe Turner,” Derek says. “Chloe, my parents’ estate manager, Devlin Carson. He oversees a whole lot of day-to-day including all their residential properties.”

“Miss Turner,” the man of upper sixties, perhaps, greets. He’s tall, slender, and wearing a stylish suit. He has a head of thick, white hair but a dark mustache and a mostly white beard. His smile is almost disarming, and I find myself attempting to stammer something polite in return as he takes our coats and hands them off to an older woman in white blouse and black dress pants.

“Are we the first to arrive, Carson?” Grace asks.

“You’re the final guests to arrive, Miss Steele. Your family waits in the solarium where brunch will be served. Follow me.” He walks ahead of us, leading the way as if Grace and Derek don’t know where this solarium is in their parents’ house.

This place is practically dripping with money. Beautiful art adorns the cream walls of the foyer. There are gold and red accents everywhere. It feels palatial. And while I can appreciate the incredible architectural details and how the rugs from the front door to where we’ve walked to alone probably cost more than the house I bought with Adam, it’s also a kind of disgusting display of wealth. It feels like we’re being led toward royalty as we stroll past expensive sculptures along art-lined halls.

“This is the original homestead,” Grace cheerily advises as if it’s got a homey feel instead of a museum-feel. “Bought for them by my grandfather when they got married. They have six other residences in various places. Daddy went from rich to disgustingly rich, but wanted to maintain this as home base. We grew up here and this is where we spent most of our time when we weren’t in school.”

Her explanation seems like she’s making sure I know they’re too rich for the location. Even though this is the most lavish mansion I’ve ever been in. Not that there have been many, but I had some wealthy friends growing up.

When I see where we’re being led I figure she’s likely given me a heads up so that I’ll realize who I’m dealing with. I see Grace is studying me as I take it all in. We’re in a gorgeous, sundrenched room of people seated at a massive table surrounded by tuxedo-wearing staff.

All eyes swing to us, and everyone rises except for the woman at the foot of the table.

“Hello, family!” Grace greets loudly.

“It’s eleven ten,” the woman who is obviously Mrs. Steele, at the foot of the table, states.

“Happy Anniversary, Maman!” Grace adds in a fake French accent.

Her mother smiles, but it’s tight.

The man at the head of the table steps up and embraces Grace. “Look who’s here. Our littlest princess.” He kisses her, warmth in his eyes, and then those eyes move to land on me. “Derek. This must be the young lady everyone is buzzing about.”

He’s inquired about me to Derek without making eye contact with him. An unpleasant shiver runs up my spine for some reason.

“Everyone, this is Chloe Turner,” Derek announces. He’s still wearing sunglasses, but they’ve transitioned in this space so they’re not quite as dark but still dark enough that I can’t see his eyes to try to gauge his actual expression.

My gaze skims across multiple sets of curious eyes. Some of them dark like Derek’s, some of them steel gray like Grace.

“Chloe, my father, Michael Steele.”

The man reaches out and shakes my hand as the rest of the table other than Derek’s mother move to take turns greeting me.

“Lovely to meet you, Chloe,” Mr. Steele says, eyes looking me over with scrutiny. He’s a handsome man in, I’m guessing, his early sixties. He’s tall, looks fit, and is well-dressed in a charcoal three-piece suit with a gray and red tie. He’s graying at the temples and has dark hair and dark eyes. A chiseled jawline. Derek takes after him in a big way.

“Thank you,” I say.

He kisses my hand and gives me a smile, but it’s not disarming at all. Maybe because his eyes are the same as Derek’s though nowhere near as warm.

“Elijah, my oldest brother,” Derek continues.

And another younger, carbon copy of Michael Steele but with gray eyes steps forward and abruptly pulls me into an embrace.

“All my brothers are flirts,” Grace warns, stage-whispering. “Except for Derek.”

Elijah Steele lifts me up a few inches and then sets me down with a deep chuckle before his eyes travel my face.

But those eyes also look cold.

“How are you, Chloe?” he asks.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, not quite ready to tell anyone how I am.

Elijah’s eyes meet Derek’s.

“Derek.”

“Eli.”

Elijah looks him over with a slight frown. “We must talk.”

“Mm hm,” Derek mutters.

My eyes bounce between them, but Grace breaks awkward silence by announcing, “This is Jonah.”

Eli moves out of the way.

My gaze moves to the next Steele sibling. Another dark-haired, suited, tall and incredibly handsome man. He and Derek look a lot alike, other than the eyes. Jonah’s are the same as Grace’s. He has shorter hair than Derek.

“Chloe.” Jonah hugs me quick and steps back. Instead of cold, his gaze and his demeanor seem indifferent.

“And Asher,” Derek gestures to the next guy.

He’s the only one not wearing a suit. The only blond man of the bunch. He’s in jeans, a black T-shirt, and motorcycle boots. He’s ripped with tattoo-covered muscles.

“Hey,” he says, and this Steele sibling’s eyes and demeanor aren’t cold or indifferent. They’re warm and traveling the length of me as he takes my hand into both of his. “Nice one, Derek.” His eyes point at my boobs as he presses his mouth to the top of my hand.

“Hello,” I answer softly, feeling uncomfortable.

Derek growls low in his throat. I reflexively pull my hand back for some reason.

The energy noticeably shifts in the vast solarium, which is dominated by the large table and also dripping with flowers and other plants in a riot of colors, coming down from a variety of hanging pots.

“Clearly one of the flirtiest of the flirters,” I try.

Everyone laughs except Derek and his mother, who I can see is watching me with scrutiny. There are also two tuxedoed men by the exit who don’t react, looking well-versed in blending into the surroundings. As this thought occurs to me, I realize I’ve just tried to manage the mood of the room, which is neither my responsibility nor my place. But it’s what I often do when there’s tension.

“I’m Naomi,” A dark-haired beauty with dark brown eyes greets, coming up behind Ash and hugging me. “So good to meet you!” she gushes.

“Hi Naomi,” I say, patting her back.

As soon as she releases me, Derek nabs my hand, and we walk to the opposite end of the table.

His mother stands.

Naomi didn’t greet Derek. Most of them didn’t.

“Baby, my mother, Shannon Steele.”

His mother was a big name in modeling and was also in a couple of older sitcoms I’ve seen. I might have been a little starstruck under different, more normal circumstances. She’s blonde, she’s still model thin, and has those striking gray eyes half of her children have. Grace looks a lot like her.

She has to be in her late fifties at minimum judging by the fact she’s been married for forty years, but she looks like she’s ten or fifteen years younger than that. She’s had work done on her face, the lip filler is evident, but whoever did it did a good job of it. Her neck and décolleté are both as line-free as her face. She has thick blonde hair that falls to her shoulders in beautiful curls, and she’s dressed in a red blazer and full, long red skirt. She has red gemstones in her lobes, at her throat and on one of her wrists.

She takes my hand daintily and gives me a sort of strange, pursed lip nod as her eyes bounce from me to her son.

“Derek, this is a surprise.” She tips her head to the side.

There’s a beat of silence.

“Happy Anniversary, mother,” he says and kisses her proffered cheek. “Happy Anniversary, Dad,” he tacks on without making eye contact with his father who is watching us from the other end of the long table with a cold expression.

“This must be a very special young lady to merit an invitation to this family brunch for our Ruby anniversary,” Shannon Steele says.

“Very special,” Derek replies in a husky tone, standing directly behind me, very close to my ear.

“Yes, rubies. Look at all the rubies!” Grace exclaims, leaning over and touching the gem on one of her mother’s ears. “Happy ruby anniversary, Mumsy and Daddy.”

“Thanks, littlest princess,” Mr. Steele says. “Why don’t we sit down. Now we can begin.”

The way he says it seems like what he really means is ‘get it over with’.

I’m not feeling welcome. I’m feeling scrutinized. And there’s a strange energy in the room that has me feeling like I’m surrounded by a combination of predators and spectators.

Derek sits on one side of his mother. Grace sits on the other side. I’m beside Derek with Naomi on my other side and Jonah across from me.

This is a very good-looking family. Asher is the only casual one as the other men are all in suits. Naomi isn’t as glammed up as Grace and their mom, but definitely exudes late twenty-something rich woman in her dark conservative navy-blue dress with no embellishment other than an expensive set of wedding rings. She’s polished with beautiful skin and glossy hair.

I’m feeling anxious. The vibe isn’t happy or positive. It’s feeling like a very stuffy occasion with a bunch of people who seem like they’re either unhappy to be here or faking that they’re not unhappy.

“So, how did you two meet?” Naomi asks me.

Derek answers, “I heard her voice in one of my clubs, watched her on camera all evening, and decided I had to have her. I had to make a few moves and maneuver her fiancé out of the way but now that’s done, so we’re getting married.”

Even the staff react this time. I stare at him with shock. I’m speechless. It seems that so is everyone else.

So, I won’t have to tell anyone else here what he’s done to me. I can tell by their expressions that Grace hasn’t spilled the beans. It’s as if Derek has pulled the rug out from under me.

“You’re… engaged?” Naomi asks, aghast.

“Not officially. The ex-fiancé is a paraplegic so there needs to be a suitable timeframe before our destination wedding for the sake of Chloe’s reputation. We’ll figure that out and let everyone know.”

All eyes are on me.

“Are you…serious?” Naomi gasps.

“When am I not serious, Nay?” Derek says calmly as plates are put down in front of everyone.

Each plate is identical. Salad is arranged in an impressive floral motif with the vegetables fanned out in flower petal shapes, the center circle a mini quiche. Salad greens make up the stem and leaves.

I’d be impressed under normal circumstances, take a picture, and declare it too pretty to eat before eating it.

“Mimosa? Ceasar? Juice? Coffee? Tea? Something else?” A server asks.

“Mimosa and a Caesar and a coffee,” Grace replies, throwing her napkin across her lap.

“Coffee,” Derek states.

I clear my throat. “Orange juice, please? Thank you very much.”

I feel all eyes on me still.

I unfold my red napkin and lay it across my lap.

“Can we back up to what Derek said?” Naomi asks.

Derek lifts the small quiche with his fingers and pops it into his mouth.

I take in everyone’s expressions. They all appear wowed. Except Derek’s father. He’s staring at Derek.

When my eyes land on Derek’s mother, she’s getting a new glass of orange juice. Or more likely a mimosa, based on what Derek and Grace said earlier today.

“Derek went after what he wanted,” Grace says. “Poor girl is shellshocked. He’s been pretty direct about it with me.”

My heart skips a beat. Is this my opening? Do I lay it all out here and ask for help?

Elijah and Asher exchange looks. Jonah looks like he’s assessing Derek. Naomi’s eyes are on me, and I see concern. Could she be a potential ally? I make a point of giving her a poignant look. Derek’s mother is sipping her drink, eyeing me with an expression I can’t translate. Nobody says anything, so I look back at Derek, who’s casually eating his salad.

“How are you doing?” Naomi asks me, concern etched into her features.

“Not so good, to be honest,” I state, my pulse racing. Hope lifting.

“When a Steele man knows what he wants, he knows,” Mr. Steele says, looking at his phone. “Gotta take this. Just a minute.” He steps away.

And I’m thrown. Because what?

“Michael swooped in and upended my life, too,” Mrs. Steele says, not making eye contact with me. “And look at me now.” She looks sour as she takes another sip.

I blink a few times in surprise. Surely not the same way as Derek swooped in with me. Right? I’m not sure I should ask. Being swept off your feet is one thing. Being blackmailed is quite another.

“Well, I for one, am happy for Derek and Chloe. I’ve never seen Derek this happy. You guys will see. Cheers to Chloe.” She lifts her glass. Everyone else does the same and they all drink. I don’t. I stare at Naomi and hope she sees that I need help.

Because no. Don’t drink to me. Do they understand the gravity here?

“So Nay, no Josh?” Grace continues, doing it loudly, obviously looking to change the subject by engaging her sister in conversation.

“He’s still in surgery, I think. This one is a long one,” Naomi tells her, then has a bite of salad.

I swallow down a lump of stress as I survey the table unhappy that Grace has distracted Naomi who is no longer focused on me and my wellbeing.

Asher and Jonah are whispering something to one another and I’m wondering if it’s about Derek. About rescuing me.

I see Ash snicker before he covers his mouth to say something to Eli, who scoffs. Okay, not likely they’re trying to figure out how to help me. And whatever they’re talking about, the way they’re doing it is awfully rude.

This certainly doesn’t feel like a happy family occasion.

A few moments later, Derek’s father returns with an apology and five seconds after that, my untouched salad is whisked away and replaced with salmon benedict on beautiful red plates with gold rims. And it’s presented just as prettily as the last course.

Derek immediately digs in, as does Jonah. Grace looks at the plate, curls her lip, and then sips her mimosa. Naomi sips her Caesar. Their mother is sipping from her glass, too.

Elijah is drumming his fingers. Jonah’s now tapping away on his phone. If I’m not mistaken, Ash has been waiting for my eyes to hit him so he can try eye-fucking me.

Seeing the expression on his face, I look away, but my eyes catch Derek’s jaw flexing. It seems Derek noticed the same moment as I did because he rips his sunglasses off, leans forward, and growls, “Get your own,” before he grabs the leg of my chair and pulls, making a terrible noise as it’s dragged a few inches, so I’m plastered to his side.

His arm wraps around me.

“Holy cow,” I mutter, aghast.

Asher throws his head back and laughs. “Afraid I’ll steal her?”

“I’ve already stolen her. Get your own, Ash.”

“Maybe I’ll steal yours.” He shrugs. “She doesn’t look too happy to be here with you.”

Derek throws his head back and laughs before he says, “Try it. I dare you.”

“He laughs now, too?” Naomi asks.

“Right?” Grace pipes up.

“Enough,” Mr. Steele snaps.

Derek leans forward aggressively. “Don’t want to ruin your brunch, Mom, by smashing your youngest son’s face off the table and breaking his nose, but he’s on notice.”

“Please, son,” Mr. Steele orders. “I have something to tell everyone.”

Derek leans back in his seat, but his jaw keeps flexing. Asher’s expression reads like he thinks it’s hilarious.

The server who brought my last drink comes again with a tray of drinks.

“You ready to switch to mimosas?” Grace whispers to me.

Mr. Steele says, “Let’s get drinks and then I’ll tell you all what I have to share.”

“Don’t look so worried, Chloe,” Grace advises, “Ash’s favorite pastime is to wind people up. He likes to make Mom and Dad have booze for breakfast.”

Ash snorts.

Mr. Steele puts in, “All seven of my children drive me to drink.”

“Six now,” Mrs. Steele says simply, then downs the rest of her beverage.

Ouch.

The server hesitates. “Miss Turner, mimosa? Something else?”

“I’m fine. I don’t need anything.” I gesture to my still half-full orange juice glass. “Thank you very much.”

I don’t need my mind muddled more than it already is.

“So, while we wait for everyone to be served their beverages, why don’t you tell us about you, Chloe? What do you do for a living?” Derek’s father asks as the server moves around the table, delivering new drinks to some while clearing empty glasses away.

“I’m in marketing,” I say.

“Which company do you work for?”

“Interplay Growth Solutions.”

“Never heard of it,” he states, and slices into his poached egg.

“It’s a boutique firm,” Derek pipes up. “Small but profitable. I’m in the midst of buying it for her.”

“I’ll quit if you do,” I warn, not even trying to hide how I feel about that.

His father looks thoughtful. But he looks at me instead of Derek. “Couldn’t we use her in one of our firms? We can always use marketing talent.”

“She’s not working for you,” Derek states, eyes pointing at his plate as he forks up another bite of his sauced salmon, then looks at me. “It’s already happening, baby. Eat some food. Don’t you like salmon?”

I’m completely out of my element here. I don’t want to ruin a family celebration, but I can’t wrap my mind around the dysfunction here.

Derek and his father haven’t made eye contact. His mother is beautiful, but looks surly and tipsy.

Naomi seems pretty normal. I don’t know what to make of Jonah. Grace so far has always seemed super bubbly. But I don’t know what to make of her, truly, because she knows what Derek’s doing with me and isn’t doing anything about it.

Elijah seems cold and calculating, but that might be that I think that because of the things I’ve read about him being rather shady in his business pursuits and in the revenge department. He really hasn’t said or done much, but he’s got a dark and almost villainy presence.

Asher is a shit stirrer and clearly by the fact that he’s in jeans coupled with what Grace said about his youth, a rebellious guy.

I’m suddenly curious about the departed Thaddeus and how he’d factor into this strange vibe here. And maybe his absence is part of the odd dynamic today. They’re missing a member of the family and even if everyone didn’t get along with him, they must feel the absence anyway.

What’s Christmas morning like with this bunch? Were things ever normal? Derek has mental health issues, for certain, but are the others well-adjusted?

“So, my small surprise,” Mr. Steele announces, “I’ve brought in an officiant to see your mother and I renew our vows. The one you liked from that wedding we attended last month, Shan. I was just on the phone with him; he’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

Mrs. Steele’s face lights up. “Oh Michael.”

He smiles at her. And the ice in his gaze has melted. So has hers.

Conversation resumes as Naomi, Grace, and Mrs. Steele get into details about the upcoming party. Mrs. Steele lauds Grace, who has helped plan it down to the last detail with as many ruby red touches as possible.

I push my food around with my fork while they name drop local A-listers who are coming, including Michael’s old college roommate, a Hollywood director who’s coming with his third wife, an A-list actress who’s a third of his age.

The scandal of this keeps the conversation going for a while, and I note Derek doesn’t participate in any of the main conversations and while his brothers occasionally pull one another into mini side discussions, none of them do so with Derek.

Naomi asks me a few more questions about my job, about my family, and I politely tell her my mom is a CPA, my father is an oral surgeon. I answer when asked where I went to school. But I’m feeling like I’m not only out of my element but also like a huge weight is on me. I’m not myself. I feel unpoised, like I’m not well-spoken. I’m taking in this strange atmosphere while they’ve all ignored the blatant hints that I’m here against my will. While they pretend not to notice my distress.

Are these people not going to do anything about the fact that he’s made it clear he’s forcing me to be here with him? How can they be so lax about it? My heart is beating too fast. I feel like I can’t get a deep enough breath. Maybe they don’t realize how bad it really is. Maybe they think he was making a joke about maneuvering me here. Maybe my reaction to Naomi’s questions wasn’t severe enough.

Derek again tries to coax me to eat while showering me with public displays of affection. Temple kisses, touching my hair while his eyes travel my face, fingertips massaging the back of my neck or caressing my shoulder. I’m wincing at his touch, trying to shrink into myself. And they’re all ignoring it.

His mother abruptly stands.

“We’d like the final course in ten minutes, Carson. Mimosas in my morning room now, please. I’d like a word with Cleo.”

“Yes, Mrs. Steele,” Carson states, magically appearing in the doorway.

Mrs. Steele grabs her mimosa, the fourth since I’ve arrived, and she wobbles a little as she backs up, then smooths out her flamboyant, full gauzy red skirt. I woodenly rise.

“Chloe. And Grace, too?” Grace asks.

“Grace, too. And Naynay,” Mrs. Steele sings out and I nab my little handbag.

“You don’t need that,” Derek says, snatching it from my hand and placing it back on the table, making his point while sliding his glasses down his nose just enough to look me in the eyes with warning.

I fire back a dirty look, which makes him smile, wide. And this makes me stumble clumsily, but I manage to steady myself before landing flat on my butt. I follow his mom and sisters out of the room, back the way we came in, then down a different hall that takes us deeper into the cavernous house until we’re in a beautiful teal and champagne space filled with art and comfortable furniture.

Mrs. Steele sits on one of four wingback chairs in a conversation cluster. We all take one. Grace and Naomi flank her so I’m directly across, and wondering if I’m about to be cross-examined. Maybe I’m about to get some help with Derek.

Shannon Steele eyes me with concern and hope flares until she speaks, saying, “If you’re marrying into this family, there are things you need to know about, Cleo.”

Carson sets an ornate silver tray with four mimosas and a large cranberry glass jug containing at least one, if not two more rounds of the same in it on the low table between us.

“Thank you, Carson!” she exclaims like she’s dying of thirst and he’s a savior.

Her eyes pin me shrewdly and I know instantly that this is the media speech Grace forewarned about instead of concern for the fact it’s been made clear I’ve been blackmailed into my current situation with Derek.

“Chloe,” I correct. “And I have no plans to marry into this family, Mrs. Steele. If I wasn’t clear enough earlier, I’m not here willingly. Derek has threatened me and held things over my head to get me where I am.”

Grace’s back straightens. She and Naomi exchange alarmed glances.

Mrs. Steele sips her beverage. “My apologies, Chloe. You remind me of my cousin Cleo. First of all, we must be extremely careful about the press and how we handle them. We’ll have you do an on-boarding session with our head of PR. If the press approaches you before then, please don’t engage. Tell them ‘no comment’.”

I blink a couple of times, absorbing how she just glazed over what I’ve said.

She goes on. “You’ll be photographed. Often. They look for unflattering photo ops considering you’ll be dating one of the coveted Steele bachelors, so if you do go out in public in sweats with a messy bun, expect to see it plastered all over social media. Also, everything you say, everything you do reflects on not just you but on us as well. Treat people well everywhere. Tip generously. Use table manners without fail. It won’t matter if you get shitty service, you’ll be judged on how you react to it. That server won’t be. You will be. So please don’t complain about poor service. Be mindful of your appearance at all times so you don’t wind up photographed by a bunch of paps who will glory in catching spinach in your teeth. You’ll get a full briefing as soon as my assistant can arrange it. Sometime this week. What religion are you? Tell me about your parents, please.”

I shake my head profusely. “Mrs. Steele, I’m afraid I don’t want anything to do with any of this. I’m only here because your son is–”

“Persistent, yes. I’m aware of how he can get when he gets his mind set on something. Like his father, there’s no dissuading him. We’re non-active, but if you don’t object, I’d prefer some sort of Christian denomination church. What church do your parents attend? Did you say they live in Ohio?”

I reach for a mimosa and take a healthy sip. Because I need it with what I’m about to say.

The Steele sisters are saying nothing, but they both appear fascinated by this conversation.

“Please forgive me if this sounds rude, but I’m not willing to discuss a church wedding because I’m not marrying your son. He’s not just being persistent. He’s bulldozed my entire life. He’s manipulated me into his apartment and his bed while making threats about bad things happening to people I care about if I refuse or disappoint him. He… I’m afraid he might need medical intervention. He’s been spying on me, stalking me.”

“So much like his father,” she mutters. “Though neither of them would ever admit how alike they are. Marcie?” she bellows abruptly, startling me.

The maid who took our coats earlier appears. “Yes, Mrs. Steele?”

“Please fetch me a bottle of champagne, will you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Marcie slips out.

“We have mimosas already, mother,” Naomi says, sipping hers.

“They’re weak. Too much orange juice, not enough champagne.”

It’s barely noon! And she’s just glossed over everything I’ve just said to her.

I look at Naomi and shoot my shot.

“If multiple people sign him in for psychiatric observation, it could be helpful. He needs help.”

Naomi’s response is to drink from her mimosa, but her eyes don’t leave mine.

What is she trying to communicate?

Grace puts her hand on my knee, so I turn toward her.

“Chloe,” she says gently, “Derek is unique. He doesn’t process things the same way as the average person. He’s not easily dissuaded. With Derek, you have to finesse things to get him to see them your way. If you also tweak your expectations you’ll–”

I lean forward. “He should be put in jail for the things he’s done!”

My eyes dart to Shannon Steele. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Steele. I don’t mean to hamper your anniversary celebration but real talk here, Derek blackmailed me in some very not-nice ways. I don’t need a briefing on how to deal with the press or the public. I need you people to get him some help. He needs to be admitted for psychiatric evaluation. I won’t have to press charges if you help me handle things in a way that I know I’ll be safe. That the people I care about will be safe. That your son won’t be a danger to anybody.”

Marcie is back with a bucket holding a bottle of champagne and a male server follows with a tray of clean glasses.

“Put it all down,” Mrs. Steele says, irritated. “We’ve got this.”

They leave us with the table now quite crowded. Shannon tops off each of our glasses with champagne, mine overflowing until it spills on the beautiful rug that likely costs more than my Cherokee.

I gasp.

“Oh, whoops,” Derek’s mother says with a lopsided grin. “Marcie!”

Staff descend to deal with the rug.

“We should get back, shouldn’t we?” Naomi asks.

“I’ll meet you all there,” Mrs. Steele says. “Chloe and I can talk about all this later. For now, I must powder my nose.”

She disappears into a room adjoining the room we’re in.

I’m standing out of the way of the puddle on the rug and Grace links arms with me and moves us out of the room.

I’m reeling. They’re all in denial. Or they don’t care.

“Grace,” I whisper. “What the fuck?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t get involved in that way. But I’m here if you want to talk. I can give you pointers for dealing with him.”

I look over my shoulder.

Naomi shakes her head. She heard.

I stop and look at them both beseechingly. “He’s making threats. He’s threatening to harm people I care about if I don’t do what he wants me to do. He’s had me followed. Slipped into my bedroom while I was asleep and I’m sure I don’t need to spell out what he did when he got in there. He’s got cameras in my house. He had some guy hold me and my fiancé at gunpoint so my fiancé and I couldn’t have sex. Is he capable of doing violent things? Seriously? I need to know. Because I think he is.”

“Yeah,” Naomi says as if the word yeah is an understatement.

My heart plummets.

“I need help,” I whisper.

“Girlfriend,” Grace says, “I know this sounds odd, but you could be really good for him.”

“What?”

Grace shrugs. “He’s aloof. He’s unemotional. He’s never displayed an interest in love or affection. He’s like a different person with you. I can’t get over the smiles. The laughing.”

“He’s probably had a psychotic break,” I volley. “I don’t want this.”

Neither say anything. My face flames and I’m so angry I could spit.

“If you don’t help me, you’re both aiding and abetting,” I snap.

Grace sighs. “It’s not like he’s not a catch. He’s my brother and even I can see it. And believe me, many women would love to be in your place.”

“I…” I start.

“Use your hold over him to your advantage,” Naomi suggests.

“An attractive, rich, handsome husband who wants to dote on you? Why wouldn’t you?” Grace shrugs.

“She’s right. Things could be much worse,” Naomi offers. “I can’t do anything to help.”

And I’m stunned at their reaction.

“You’d be lucky to wind up with any of our living brothers,” Grace goes on, “They’re good-looking men of means who will go to extremes to provide for and protect those they care about. But yeah, Derek is unusual, dangerous, but he’s also absolutely smitten with you.”

“For how long though? If I don’t get out of this, do I end up like one of your brother Thad’s wives? Did they ask you for help and you ignore them, too?”

The Steele sisters exchange alarmed glances. We’re back to the entrance to the solarium, so I stop talking. But I wasn’t exactly whispering so might have been heard. But good! Someone needs to pay attention here. Intervene.

“I wouldn’t wish Thad on anyone,” Naomi says softly. “He was disturbed. As for Derek, you could be good for him. I’m sure I speak for all my siblings when I say that we’ll all be hopeful that this works out well.”

“Hopeful?” I ask.

“Derek’s been through a lot,” Naomi elaborates. “Him wanting to get married, bringing you here? That’s the first mentally healthy sign he’s shown anyone in years.”

I give my head a shake. “It’s healthy to blackmail a woman into sex? To destroy her relationship? He’s threatened people I care about. If you’re all going to talk this over after this, please talk about getting him some help so I can get away from him before he does more damage.”

“We’re allies, Chloe,” Naomi says, “But there are rules in this family. Some are unwritten but might as well be carved in stone. And we all know them. We can give you advice, pointers for being part of this family, but we can’t go against Derek on this. Anyone getting involved by going against what he wants? No. Not a good idea.” Naomi holds the door and gestures for me to go ahead.

The fact that they refuse to get involved sets off major alarms about being afraid of him retaliating.

I’m thinking I should walk out. I should walk out of here and go straight to the police, but I see that Derek is looking over his shoulder at me. And fear grips me at the notion of what he might do if I do that, so I walk back to him. As soon as we sit, his mom comes in and sits down. As soon as her behind is in her chair, servers move in and begin to serve everyone small plate towers with three levels of tarts and chocolate-dipped fruit.

Derek puts his arm around me and kisses the side of my head, but whispers, “Naughty bunny.” He tsks.

I look around and see all the men at the table staring at us. So are the servers. They’ve all heard some or all of what I’ve said.

But isn’t anyone going to do anything about this?

I make eye contact with several of them. The servers look away. The only Steeles to look away are the two young females. But not their mother. Her gray eyes are like stone.

I look at Derek’s father who looks straight through me. His expression is unreadable. I’m being treated as insignificant.

Clearly, I’m on my own.

Coffee is served.

So is more booze.

I finish a whole mimosa. As quickly as Shannon Steele does. And it tastes too good for the time of day and the predicament I’m in so I know getting snockered, as Grace put it, wouldn’t be a good idea. I decline the offer of another mimosa and switch to coffee.

Grace and Naomi are giggling now, Naomi sitting in Jonah’s seat and Jonah and Ash are outside talking to their father. Eli slipped out to make a phone call.

Derek holds a chocolate dipped piece of melon in front of my lips with his fingers.

I fail at leveling him with a glare. I ignore the dangling fruit and excuse myself, asking for the nearest powder room.

Carson walks me there himself.

“I’m sure you heard. I could really use some help,” I whisper to him before I step into the bathroom.

He looks into my eyes. “I’ve been a loyal member of the Steele family’s team for sixteen years, Miss Turner.”

“Right,” I mutter. “If anything bad happens to me, it’s on all of you.”

He says nothing, but his expression changes. We stare at one another for a moment, and it seems like he’s about to say something, so I wait. His expression blanks, so it’s obvious he’s made his decision.

I go into the bathroom and lock the door, blowing out an exasperated huff.

I stare at my flushed reflection in the mirror, feeling frustration bubble in my blood.

Derek acted like I shouldn’t dare to out him to his family, but in truth, it doesn’t matter because he outed himself and they don’t seem to care.

I can’t wrap my head around this dysfunction. My family isn’t perfect. Far from it. My parents are barely cognizant of my existence. But this? This is like being in an alternate universe where filthy-rich elitist people only care about themselves.

Talk about a strange family…

Thad – the now dead one with two dead wives. Derek – the psychotic stalker. Talk of Elijah and Jonah being tied to organized crime. Mr. Steele’s political connections. Being told Steele family members don’t ever get divorced, so the dead brother had two dead wives. The mysteriously absent wife of Elijah. Is she okay?

Women survive in this environment by getting drunk at brunch.

I need to get out of here. My thoughts are all over the map. I need to take my fate into my own hands here.

Maybe I need to walk out of here and take my chances.

When I exit the powder room, Derek is waiting for me.

Damn it!

“We’re going outside for the vow renewal and then we’re leaving. Too bad we didn’t go get a marriage license on Friday. We could’ve done it here today.” He hands me my handbag.

I stare at him with disgust. “This isn’t funny. None of it.”

“I’m not telling you a joke, Chloe,” he says, smiling wider.

“I’ve just blasted everyone in earshot about you and nobody’s doing anything about it.”

“I’m aware,” he says.

“I’m not attending your parents’ vow renewal,” I tell him and attempt to change directions so I can try to find my way out.

My back is suddenly touching the wall in a move that has me pinned by his hips as he rips his sunglasses off his face. He crowds me, caging me with both hands pressed against the wall on either side of my face. He looks down at me with a dark expression. “Yes, you are. And then we’re leaving. You’ve already tested me today with how fucking naughty you’re being. Don’t push me past the point of decorum.”

“Meaning?” I demand.

He smiles. “You keep nudging, Chloe. Are you not concerned that one of these days you could send me over the brink.”

“Meaning?”

“You don’t want to find out.”

“So you keep saying,” I mutter, but his tongue is abruptly in my mouth, hands weaving into my hair, making my knees go to jelly.

Damn it, why is he such a good kisser?

He abruptly pulls back, tugs my hand, and now we’re on the move.

Frustration floods my even-more-disjointed system as I’m led through the maze of hallways outside to where everyone is gathered in a gazebo by a massive swimming pool. The red and white rose-covered gazebo is breathtaking. Derek’s mother is beaming with joy. Once we climb the two steps, Grace grabs Derek’s free hand and Jonah reaches for mine and me, along with the Steele family, surround Michael, Shannon, and the officiant.

And it’s like none of us are even here as Michael and Shannon Steele renew their vows. They recite them staring at one another with so much emotion in their eyes it’s as if they’re alone and ready to tear one another’s clothes off. It’s like they’re getting married for the first time and it’s so vividly emotional, I forget my predicament for a couple of minutes, unaware until they’re finished kissing that Derek is holding my hand to his mouth, kissing it, watching me have the reaction as if I’ve watched a beautiful romantic movie.

While I shake off the stupor, Carson appears with a tray of champagne flutes.

The women seem to be giving me a wide berth, likely trying to avoid me asking for help again. Not that I’m about to. They’ve made themselves clear and this moment is about the renewal of vows between two people who’ve chosen to spend their life together, as messed up as the fruits of their union might seem to my eyes.

“Time to go,” Derek whispers in my ear before announcing it for all the other ears around. He kisses his mother on the cheek, and she looks at me with a strange look in her eyes as she reaches for my hand.

I hesitantly accept it. She gives me an almost maternal squeeze and smile.

“It was lovely having you here for such a special family moment, Chloe. We’ll talk. I’ll set up your press preparation appointment and then we’ll discuss your wedding.”

“Don’t bother,” Derek tells her. “I’ll take care of that. All of that.”

“But…” His mother starts but then lets it hang, looking at him strangely.

His father leans in and kisses my cheek. “Lovely to meet you, Chloe. See you both on Saturday night.” He stares at Derek and their eyes meet. “Please allow your mother to help,” he requests.

Derek’s eyes skim his father’s face and then settle on his mother’s hopeful one.

“Okay,” he concedes.

I stare blankly for a second, and then decide to shoot my shot one more time. “Happy Anniversary. Thank you for your hospitality today, but I’m going to do my absolute best to not be there next week. I really think you all need to sign Derek in for psychiatric help. Since Derek’s sisters and mother didn’t listen to my pleas, I hope you will.” I eye Derek’s father who is staring at me with an unreadable expression. “I’m here under duress. He’s made threats and has been relentlessly stalking me and derailing my life while manipulating me.”

“We’ll see you all Saturday,” Derek says casually, grabbing my hand.

I look over my shoulder as he leads me away and they all watch. Saying nothing.

Eli sips his champagne.

Ash looks like he finds this funny.

Jonah, though, looks at me with concern.

Our eyes connect.

“Please,” I mouth.

Derek tugs my hand a little more forcefully as Jonah jerks his chin in acknowledgement.

“Naughty girls get punishments, Chloe,” Derek says into my hair and picks up his pace.

I burst into tears and am audibly sobbing by the time we get to his car.

The valet hands him keys and looks at me with concern.

“Help?” I ask the valet.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Derek crowds the valet with an intimidating expression. The young guy swallows and looks away.

“Hold up,” I hear from behind us.

I turn.

It’s Jonah.

Thank God. Someone.

“A minute, Derek?”

Derek opens my door and ushers me inside before stepping to the side with his brother.

They walk about ten or fifteen paces, so I can’t hear them. Derek puts his hand on Jonah’s shoulder and speaks close to him.

Elijah joins their huddle and hope flares.

Maybe these two are going to talk sense into him.

Or subdue him until the men with the white coats arrive?

Derek’s father joins the huddle, as does Ash.

I swallow and watch as they all speak to one another.

Derek’s father claps Derek on the shoulder and says something and I watch Derek’s expression drop.

Hope sparks in my belly.

But then Derek is coming toward me again. He gets into the driver’s side and starts his SUV.

Confused, I look toward his dad and brothers, but they’re all walking back to the house together.

I reach for the door handle, ready to jump out, but the locks engage, and Derek angrily squeals away from the curb.

He’s pissed off.

And I don’t know what this means for me.