10. Chloe
CHLOE
Afternoon sunlight filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows when I wake from my nap.
Three weeks have passed since we left Harold and Doris behind, since we chose each other over everything else.
Three weeks of living in this penthouse with Cade, building a life together despite the wreckage we left in our wake.
I stretch, noting the pleasant soreness between my thighs.
Last night he used me while I slept—our arrangement continues, except now there's no door to leave unlocked.
We share the same bed every night, fall asleep tangled together, and I wake most mornings to his cock already inside me or his mouth between my legs.
The past three weeks blur together in a haze of sex and domesticity.
Fall semester started at Ashford University two weeks ago.
Cade paid my tuition without hesitation, like he promised.
I'm attending classes, maintaining some normalcy, commuting from here.
From our penthouse, I correct myself. It feels like home now.
My mother haven't contacted me once. Not a single call, text, or email. That still hurts—a dull ache I've learned to ignore. But with Cade beside me, it's bearable. More than bearable.
The bedroom door opens. Cade enters, already dressed in dark jeans and a fitted black shirt that emphasizes his broad shoulders.
"Get dressed," he says, gray eyes gleaming with something I can't quite identify.
I sit up, pushing hair out of my face. "Why? What's going on?"
"It's a surprise." He crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe. "Wear something fancy."
"Cade, what are you planning?"
"You'll see. Trust me."
That mischievous grin makes my stomach flip. He won't say more, just watches me with that intense focus that makes me feel stripped bare even when I'm fully clothed.
Curiosity wins. I slide out of bed and head to the walk-in closet, surveying my options. Most of these clothes are new—bought on shopping trips where Cade spoiled me relentlessly despite my protests.
I choose a black cocktail dress. Form-fitting, elegant, hits mid-thigh. We bought it two weeks ago and I haven't had occasion to wear it yet. High heels, minimal jewelry, careful makeup. Hair in soft waves that frame my face.
When I emerge from the bathroom around five-thirty, Cade's waiting in the living room. He's changed into a tailored suit—black on black, devastatingly handsome. The fitted jacket emphasizes his imposing build, and he looks like he stepped out of a magazine spread.
His eyes darken when he sees me. Predatory heat that makes my breath catch.
"Fuck, you're beautiful."
He crosses the room in three measured strides, pulling me firmly against him. One hand slides down my body to grip my ass through the thin fabric of the dress, squeezing possessively.
"Almost don't want to leave this apartment," he murmurs against my ear, his breath warm on my skin. His other hand splays across my lower back, holding me tight against his solid chest. "Want to take you right here instead. Fuck you against the wall in that pretty dress."
Heat floods through me at his words. My body responds instantly, betraying me.
"We have to go," I breathe, though the idea tempts me more than I want to admit. My hands rest against his chest, feeling his heart beating steady and strong beneath the expensive suit jacket.
"Later, then." he promises darkly, his grip on my ass tightening. "I'll have you all night, Chloe. Every single way I've been imagining."
The restaurant is the most expensive in the city. French cuisine, Michelin-starred, the kind of place that requires reservations months in advance. A valet takes Cade's keys while I stare at the elegant entrance.
"Cade, this is too much?—"
"Nothing's too much for you." He guides me inside with that possessive hand on my lower back. "Besides, tonight is special."
"Why? What's special about tonight?"
"You'll see. Be patient, stepsister."
The maitre d' greets us by name. "Mr. Merrick, right this way."
He leads us to a private table in a secluded corner. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the glittering city below. Candlelight flickers on white tablecloth, silverware gleaming.
I'm overwhelmed. This isn't just dinner—this is something else entirely.
"Seriously, Cade. What's going on?"
"Sit down and you'll find out."
We order wine, appetizers, entrées. The conversation flows easily despite my curiosity burning beneath the surface.
"How's school going?" Cade asks, swirling wine in his glass.
"Good. Classes are interesting."
"Professors treating you well?"
"Mostly. Psychology department is great." I take a sip of wine, savoring the rich flavor. "My developmental psych professor is brilliant."
"And your art therapy plans?"
"Still dreaming. Seems far away though."
His expression softens. "It's not. You'll get there. I have faith in you."
That unwavering support makes emotion clog my throat. No one else has ever believed in me like this.
"What about you?" I deflect. "Work going okay?"
"Business is good. Made some investments." He sets down his fork, reaching across the table to take my hand. "Actually, want to talk about something."
My attention sharpens. His tone shifted—serious now, weighted with meaning.
"What?"
"These past three weeks have been incredible." His thumb strokes across my knuckles. "Living with you, waking up beside you. It's everything I didn't know I needed."
"I feel the same way."
"I know we're unconventional. Stepsiblings, forbidden, taboo. Society says we're wrong." His gray eyes lock onto mine. "But I don't care what society thinks."
"Me either. Not anymore."
"I want this permanently, Chloe." His grip tightens. "Want you permanently."
My heart starts racing. This conversation is heading somewhere I didn't expect, somewhere that makes my hands shake and breath catch.
Cade stands, moving around the table. Other diners are starting to notice, turning to watch.
He kneels beside my chair.
Pulls a small velvet box from his pocket.
Opens it, revealing a stunning diamond ring that catches candlelight and throws rainbows across the tablecloth.
I gasp. Tears instantly form, blurring my vision.
"Chloe Winters, you're my everything." His voice is steady, confident, but I catch the emotion beneath.
"My lover, my best friend, my stepsister.
" He emphasizes that last word, owning our taboo completely.
"I know this is unconventional. I know people will judge.
But I don't care. I want to marry you. Be my wife, build a life together. Will you marry me?"
I'm crying and nodding before he finishes speaking.
"Yes—yes—of course yes!"
Cade slides the ring onto my finger. Perfect fit, like it was made for me. Platinum band, large center diamond that's absolutely flawless, smaller diamonds circling the band. Expensive and tasteful and stunning.
I can't stop staring at it.
"It's beautiful, Cade."
"Not as beautiful as you."
He stands, pulling me up with him. Kisses me deeply, passionately, one hand cupping my face while the other presses against my lower back. Other diners applaud but we ignore them, lost in our moment.
When we finally sit back down, I'm still processing. Engaged. We're engaged. The ring catches light every time I move my hand.
"People are going to talk," I say quietly.
"Let them. We knew that already."
"But married? That's different than living together."
"It is. And I want it anyway."
I twist the ring on my finger, testing its weight. "Are we going to tell people? About the step-relation?"
"That we can't hide. It's public record." His expression is fierce, protective. "Our parents' marriage made it official. So yes, people will know. And judge us for it."
"I don't care." Saying it out loud feels liberating. "Not anymore. I just want you."
We finish dinner while making plans. Future stretching out before us, suddenly concrete and real.
"When should we get married?" I ask.
"Soon. No point waiting."
"What about a wedding?"
"We can do small ceremony. Just us, officiant, witnesses."
"No family," I say, sadness creeping in despite my best efforts.
"We're our family now. We'll make our own." He reaches across the table again, linking our fingers together. "What about your art therapy dream?"
"Still happening. Marriage doesn't change that."
"Actually, makes it easier. Joint finances, legal partnership. Can invest in your business officially."
Practical and romantic simultaneously. That's Cade—always thinking ahead, always planning.
We finish the meal around eight-thirty. I'm high on emotion and champagne, floating on clouds. Cade pays the exorbitant bill without blinking, then helps me with my coat. That possessive hand returns to my lower back as he guides me outside.
"Where to now?" I ask.
"I have something else planned."
"More surprises?"
"One more. Then we're going home." His wicked grin makes implications crystal clear.
He drives to a secluded park on the city outskirts. Private botanical garden, the kind that closes at sunset. It's technically closed now, but Cade produces a key.
"How did you?—"
"I have connections. Don't ask."
He parks in the empty lot. We're the only ones here, completely private.
"Why here?"
"You'll see."
We walk through gardens holding hands. Moonlight illuminates flowers and stone pathways. Decorative fountains gurgle softly. In the center sits a gazebo, circular structure with string lights still twinkling.
"It's gorgeous," I breathe.
"Thought you'd like it." He pulls me close, arm around my waist. "Wanted somewhere special for tonight. For celebrating our engagement."
The gazebo has bench seating around the perimeter. Cade leads me up the steps, then turns to face me. Pulls me close and kisses deeply, hands roaming my body through the dress.
"Want you right now."
"Here? We're outside!"
"Park's closed. No one around."
"But still?—"