Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
The earl, the viscount, and the duchess?
Now that’s a fantasy I can get behind.
~ Zayne
CHLOé COULDN’T SLEEP. She’d tried everything. Headphones with music. Headphones with meditation. Counting back from one hundred, then two, and when none of that worked, she slipped out of bed and grabbed her robe.
Ethan and Zayne were fast asleep, and as she looked down at them, she couldn’t help the feeling of overwhelming pleasure she got from seeing them there wrapped up in each other.
It still didn’t feel quite real. That she was here with them.
That she was now…theirs. There was a sense of belonging she felt in their presence.
Like tonight, for example—she hadn’t asked them to, but when she’d arrived home, she found them both up and waiting for her. They wanted to make sure she got back safely, even though they’d sent their driver.
It felt like everything in her life was going exactly the way it was meant to—except the lack of sleep.
She tiptoed down the stairs and flicked on one of the living room lamps. It was just turning four in the morning, and the sun was still fast asleep, along with the rest of the city, no doubt. But her mind was alive.
Ever since her père had suggested she was ready to create and showcase her own menu, she hadn’t been able to think of anything else. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You only got one shot to make a first impression, and she didn’t want to mess it up.
She hurried across to where she’d left her laptop charging on the kitchen counter and powered it up, then grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and slipped onto the barstool.
She needed to do some research. A lot went into creating a five-star-worthy write-up in the biggest foodie magazines in the city—not to mention country—and she knew full well her père was testing her nationally.
It was the only way he would ever fully trust her with his baby.
She’d been training for this her whole life, had never wanted anything more than taking on the family restaurant and making her fathers proud. So she had some work to do.
There were a couple of ways to approach this.
The first was going with what she knew. She pulled up a Word doc and started to list all the dishes she was particularly good at and loved most. Then she broke them all down, listing the ingredients into meat, produce, sauces, and spices, then sat back to see if anything jumped out at her.
She needed to be original, needed to come up with something so delicious people raved about it for days, weeks—hell, months. As she stared at the lists in front of her, she knew she needed a little more oomph .
Which had her switching her approach to what was on trend.
Now this, this was the scary place. It was the space in which there were so many options and possibilities that sometimes it got the best of her and the freedom to do it all became overwhelming.
Especially when she had to narrow it down to something very specific and hope like hell she got it right.
She looked at superfoods, native ingredients, seasonal ingredients, cost-is-not-an-issue ingredients, and started to write down some options she could take from there. She also had to take into account time, how long would it take to prep the meals and make each course.
“Ugh…” She let out a sigh and ran a hand through her hair.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there making her lists when the sound of footsteps had her turning to see Ethan and Zayne coming down the stairs.
“ Merde. ” She scooted off the stool, twisting her hands in front of herself. “Did I wake you?”
Ethan’s robe flowed around him and his silk pajama bottoms like some sort of cape as he walked across the living room shaking his head. “No, but your absence did.”
Her eyes flicked between him and Zayne, who’d pulled on a pair of sweats that hung low on his hips, and she was trying to remember why she’d left their bed.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep.”
“No need to apologize.” Ethan cupped her face in his hand and leaned in to press a kiss to her lips. “It’s bound to take you a little while to settle into a new place and new bed—”
“Oh, that’s not the reason.”
“No?”
“No.” Chloé shook her head and moved aside to show them the computer. “It’s work.”
Ethan stepped forward to read what was on the screen as Zayne wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the temple.
“Did something happen?” Ethan asked.
“Umm, yeah, I guess you could say that. My père asked me to make a menu tonight. Well, last night.”
Zayne looked down at her. “What do you mean, make a menu? Does he want to change things up at JULIEN?”
“No, this would be a one-off menu. A special event to, um…” She thought about the best way to phrase it.
“Show you off?” Ethan asked.
She opened her mouth to deny that but smiled. “Maybe?”
“That’s fantastic.” Zayne hugged her, and Chloé nodded.
“It is, yes. But it’s also super stressful. I have to come up with dishes and sauces and wine pairings that will blow the mind, and”—she turned her face into his naked chest—“it’s scary.”
Zayne chuckled and rubbed a hand up and down her back. “Aw, come on, Red. You’re the best chef I’ve ever met. Your food is hands down the best I’ve ever put in my mouth. You haven’t got any reason to be scared.”
“Zayne’s right.” She looked at Ethan, who was eyeing her closely. “Julien wouldn’t have suggested this if he didn’t think you were ready.”
“I know, and you’re right. You both are. It’s just… This is it. This is what I’ve always dreamed of. Creating my own menu, running JULIEN. I’ve spent my whole life in those kitchens with my père . He’s taught me everything I know. I just want to make him proud. I want to make them all proud.”
Ethan took her hands in his. “I’ve never seen prouder parents than your fathers.”
“He’s right, Red. That pedestal you’re on? It’s a skyscraper.”
“Deservedly so.” Ethan ran his thumb over the back of her hand.
“You’re a beautiful, smart, fiercely independent woman.
What you do at JULIEN is a reflection of all of those things, and that’s what makes them proud.
Not one night at a restaurant. So don’t be scared, be excited. Your fathers want to show you off.”
“You make me sound like some debutante entering society.”
Ethan’s lips twitched. “I wasn’t going to put it quite like that.”
“No?”
Zayne chuckled. “I doubt any young women from aristocratic families were shacking up with two men.”
Chloé scoffed.
“What? You think they were?”
“They do in my books.”
Ethan and Zayne both turned to the box of books sitting in the living room, then Zayne looked back to her.
“Please tell me those ones aren’t in French.”
Chloé started laughing and walked into the kitchen. “They aren’t, and if you’re nice to me, I just might let you read the story about the earl, the viscount, and the duchess.”
Zayne’s eyes widened as she pulled out the coffee cups and grinned.
“But first, I need a coffee.”
* * *
AS THE DELICIOUS scent of ground coffee filled the air, Zayne watched Chloé move around the kitchen as though she’d been living with them for years instead of days.
It was nice to see her there, feeling so comfortable in their space. He settled onto a stool beside Ethan, then leaned in and asked, “You think she really has a book about that? Or is she just teasing us?”
“True or not”—Ethan looked down at his lap, where Zayne’s erection was outing him—“I think you’re well and truly teased.”
Zayne grunted, but couldn’t deny it. He’d always thought Ethan looked like a throwback to another time in his long coats and pocket watches.
He could quite easily imagine him as some dashing earl, and Chloé a duchess in some big, beautiful dress that pushed her breasts up like ripe peaches he wanted to—
“Sugar or syrup?”
Zayne blinked. “Huh?”
Chloé frowned, and Ethan chuckled. “Don’t mind him, petite fille. I believe he’s busy fantasizing about breeches and corsets.”
“Ah, so maybe sticky and sweet?” She reached for the syrup. “Got it.”
She poured it in and then wiped the end of the spout with her finger, which she sucked clean. Yeah, Red was having a hell of a time with him now, and considering he’d forgotten the current ungodly hour, that was saying something.
She slid his mug across the counter, then went back to make Ethan’s. A couple minutes later, they were all sipping on freshly brewed coffee.
“So, enough about me,” she said. “What did you two get up to yesterday?”
“The bookshelf for the most part. Ethan with a drill is…unstoppable.”
She looked over at the almost-finished shelves. “It’s looking gorgeous, by the way.”
Zayne nodded. “It is, huh? Fits in as though it was always meant to be there.”
“Just like the lady it’s for,” Ethan added, and a soft blush hit Chloé’s cheeks. “We also made some changes down at the club.”
“Changes?” she asked.
“That’s right. Zayne and I thought it was time to hand over the baton to someone else.”
A frown pulled down Chloé’s brows. “What does that mean?”
“Well, you know why we used to go to the club together. What we’d do there?”
“Yes. You’d pick a third partner to join you for the night.”
She said it so matter-of-factly that Zayne couldn’t help but laugh. “We’d pick a sub , Red. But we don’t need to do that anymore.”
“Because we found a sub we want every night,” Ethan added.
“Me?”
“That’s right, petite fille . You.”
“Wow…”
Ethan eyed her closely. “You’re surprised?”
“I… I mean, a little, I guess. We hadn’t really talked about it, but I figured it was your job and—”
“You were okay with us being with others that way?”
“Well, no.” She shook her head. “I guess I never thought about it. It’s your business…”
“The club is.” Zayne winked at her. “The sex was just a side benefit. One we don’t want or need now.”
A pleased little smile hit her lips as she went back to stirring her coffee.
“You like that, don’t you?” Ethan asked.
“Maybe.”
“You can say it, you know.”
“Say what?”