20. Chloe
20
CHLOE
M y self-loathing pushed me to get out of bed.
The longer I kept the truth about Caleb from Franco, the worse I felt.
Instead of lying in bed and rehearsing how I could tell him once and for all, I wondered where he’d gone. I was alone in his room, but I felt like a trespasser, an imposter of a lover to be here when I was actively deceiving him by not revealing that he was a father.
I got up and headed back to my guest room that I slept in the night before. After I dressed in another change of the borrowed clothes Eva and Tessa provided for me during my stay, I sought Franco.
Forgoing breakfast, I settled for a cup of iced coffee. If I ate anything, it might come back up. That was how nervous I was. The little bit of a conversation I overheard from the men on the other side of the kitchen put me on edge too. They were guards, more men I didn’t know, but their mention of people fighting in Brooklyn made me think of Caleb, who was staying there for now.
For now. In a couple of days, I would have to put an end to my stay here. I would need to go pick him up from his spring break vacation with Ethan.
I had to go back to real life, the one in which I was a single mother determined to hide from her stalker of an ex.
I had stayed under the illusion of being here in the lap of luxury and free to reconnect with the man I loved and missed.
This was it. The moment had come. I had to tell Franco and I had to go back to Caleb.
Franco had shown me nothing but security. He had been patient and so tender with me, letting me into his life without any exceptions and conditions. I had no reason not to come clean. No excuses.
Just do it. Tell him.
I resolved to, no matter how hard it would be.
When I finally found him in the massive home gym in the mansion, I was thankful that no one else was working out with him. Among the many pieces of equipment and mirrored walls, he was building up a sweat on his own.
“Chloe.” He grinned around a strained expression as he set a bar with weights back on a rack. “Over here.”
I swallowed, nervous, and approached. “I see that.” Crossing my arms felt like a defensive posture, but I wanted the comfort of something like a hug.
Looking him up and down, I couldn’t help but smile. He was always so strong and ripped, oozing testosterone and masculinity. He was a buff gym junkie, but not with the bulkiness of someone who got so strong for the sake of looking good. His fitness was tied to his job. As a capo for Dante’s organization, Franco was expected to always be primed to fight, run, and defend.
This man would never fail to get a reaction out of me.
I stole this moment to look my fill. His sweaty hair, the blond tips dripping wet. His chiseled, lean features showing the tautness of his face. All the way down over the bulging muscles in his shoulders, those strong arms that held me so well.
I sighed at the sight of his hard pecs decorated with so many tattoos. Every ridge and dip of his abs, every slab of hardness defined and shiny under the glistening sheen of sweat.
“Chloe.” He grunted my name with that hit of a needy growl, and I swore I was aroused just like that. No matter the state of my mind and how anxious I was to talk to him, I was overwhelmed with immediate lust.
For him. Always for him. Something about this man called to me. His soul, the promise of his sexy body, his commanding grip.
“You keep looking at me like that, sweetheart, and I’m going to forget what I came here to do.”
He stalked toward me, his gaze predatory but playful.
I shook my head slightly, wrenching myself out of this haze of lust. “Me too.” I came here for something specific. I had to talk to him. I came here to talk about Caleb and break the news that he was a father.
But I overheard the guards near the kitchen when I grabbed my coffee. I didn’t know who the Giovannis were, but they were fighting someone in the Brooklyn area—where Caleb was with Ethan. I trusted that man to keep him safe. That reminder of Caleb, though, prompted me to get to it and tell Franco already.
“You don’t like the way I’m looking at you?” he teased, coming up to me and walking me back to the wall of mirrors.
“I really like the way you’re looking at me,” I replied before he kissed me so hard I grew dizzy.
“Like I want to eat you up?” he taunted, licking a path down my neck. He thrust my loose shorts down and slid his hand to my pussy.
“Oh, shit.” I gasped at the push of his fingers into my sex. The rough stroke and firm pressure were exactly what I needed and wanted with how quickly he turned me on like this.
“Like I want to drive my cock into your cunt?”
I moaned as I brought him back for a hard kiss.
“Like that?” he taunted, adding his thumb to rub at my clit.
“Fuck. Franco.” I caught my breath, or tried to. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Hmm.” He sucked at my neck. “Then talk. Go ahead and see how long you can think while I do this.”
I whined, grabbing his forearm to slow him down. I was already overwhelmed with the need to come, but I strained to focus.
I told myself last night that I’d be greedy one last time and enjoy what he offered. Purely filthy, hot, and wild sex. That was supposed to be the last time I let my body betray me, the last time I would cave and give in to the pressure of wanting him so badly that I’d combust.
“Seriously,” I protested breathily between kisses. He was far stronger than me. If he wanted to move his arm, he would, but he humored me, letting me think that I could keep his hand in place as he continued to finger me.
He didn’t reply, kissing me again and groaning as he pinned me to the wall of mirrors. They had to be fogging up with the heat and moisture of him so sweaty and warming me up with the idea of sex.
“I want to talk to you.” I closed my eyes tighter, willing myself to resist him. It was so hard. He was hard. I felt the hardness of his erection prodding against me as he caged me against the wall.
“I’m always here for you. You can tell me anything.”
If he didn’t say that in such a seductive, panted whisper, it wouldn’t’ve hit harder. It would’ve sounded like a sincere claim that I could believe in. Right now, it seemed that we were on the fast track to a hot, quick fuck.
“I want to talk to you about something important.”
He growled, kissing up my neck and rubbing his erection against me. The full-body grind turned me on more. I didn’t care if he was sweaty and filthy. I relished the promise of his hard muscles grinding against me, his hands gripping me so tightly.
“Everything you have to say is important to me, Chloe. You are important to me. You always have been.”
I winced at his words. He’d stand by them with what he knew about me now. Once I told him my biggest secret, he might want to walk that statement back and pretend it wasn’t true.
“Please, just let me tell you?—”
His phone rang, cutting through the quiet. Over the panted breaths we shared in here, riled up from the potential quickie we’d embarked on having, his phone rang and rang.
“Dammit.”
He gritted his teeth, backing up from me quickly. “Stay right there.” Pointing at me, he kept me in place.
My mouth hung open. I was so startled by how quickly we were interrupted. After his hot body was pressed flush to mine, I felt the absence of his warmth the second he peeled back.
“Um.” I licked my lips and nodded. “Yeah.”
“I need to take this. We’ve had security issues,” he said, backpedaling toward the shelf he put his phone on. It seemed like he couldn’t take his eyes off me. The further he backed up, the more intense the longing in his gaze got.
“The Constella forces keeping an eye on some Giovanni guys in Brooklyn.” I nodded. “I, um, I overheard some men in the kitchen.”
“We live in a dangerous world, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have you in it too,” he said as he reached for his phone.
I furrowed my brow as his odd line sank in. He probably said that because of how I referenced the family-work balance yesterday, when I mentioned that Dante must have struggled to be both a single dad to Romeo and to run the entire Mafia family.
I shook my head. That wasn’t a worry. That never crossed my mind, that Franco wouldn’t be able to be a partner for me now that we’d reunited. Back when I found out that I was pregnant with Caleb, I stressed about it. I was gravely concerned that Franco wouldn’t have had the time to be a father to a newborn when he was just getting committed to his career. It played a big part in why I left.
“Liam,” Franco answered on speaker. He stared at me and ran his hand through his hair. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure.”
Franco furrowed his brow. “Talk to me.”
“I’m off today,” Liam said, “but I think something has come up that we need to follow up on. I know Romeo was teaming up with you on this while I focused on other things, but this is too weird of a coincidence to ignore.”
“Go on.” His tone suggested that he was impatient, both to reclaim this moment we were sharing and to get to the bottom of whatever Liam was talking about.
“I’ve got this friend, someone I used to work with. He’s into, uh, private services.”
Franco nodded. “Okay.”
“He called because he’s aware that I have connections from working with you. He reached out to me just to shoot the shit, you know, just to stay in touch, but he mentioned that he was annoyed about some asshole hanging around his place.”
Franco made a face at me and rolled his hand, as though wishing Liam would get to the point already.
“Said this guy is harassing people in his building, asking questions and being nosy. You know? That sort of thing.”
“What about it?” Franco asked.
“He mentioned his name was Morrison.”
My blood turned cold. I swore my heart skipped a beat. Franco went still, staring at me with a frigid expression of shock.
“Morrison?” he asked.
“Yeah. Morrison, same name as Chloe’s stalker, right? I guess it’s a common enough name, but I think it seems sort of odd. It’s worth checking out, wouldn’t you say?”
Franco nodded, hurrying through the gym to grab a towel to wipe off his bare chest. “Definitely.”
“I’ve got a car ready. If you want to go?—”
“Yes. I’ll be out front in five minutes.” He disconnected the call as he jogged to me. “Wait for me.” He pulled me in close for a hard, fast kiss, and I sagged against the mirrored wall when he let me go.
“Wait. I?—”
Too late. He lifted a hand in a wave and darted out of the room.
I was left behind, stuck with all these trapped words and confessions stuck in my throat.
The idea of his rushing off to find Wes scared me. He’d kill him. There was not a chance in hell that Franco would let him live. While I didn’t want to think about the grisly details, I tried not to dwell on the fact that it would be happening. Soon. In a normal world, I should’ve been worried and alarmed, knowing about a murder waiting to happen. With what Wes did to me, stalking me and threatening me, though, I knew better than to wish for a different outcome.
That didn’t make me a bad person. I refused to accept that.
However, I felt like the scummiest coward and liar. Standing here all alone with my secrets, I hated myself a little more for still not coming clean about having Franco’s son and hiding him.
As soon as he’s back. I have to tell him. No more excuses.