BF'S DAD" ROSé EMPIRE

CHLOE:

"Get dressed," he interrupts my thoughts, checking his watch. "Maya’s driver informed me she will be back in exactly five minutes. We are having dinner at Rosé."

Without waiting for a response, he walks away, shutting the door behind him.

What the hell is wrong with me? I ask myself as I collapse onto the bed.

My body is still shaking, my nipples are hard, and all I can think about is the way his chest felt against mine. Dinner is in a few  minutes—and I am still completely naked.

**

Minutes later, I stand at the bottom of the staircase, my backless dress exposing every inch of my spine. The memories from the bedroom still burn in my mind.

“If you want to prove you aren't vanilla, Chloe... you don’t do it with a piece of plastic.”

"Chloe, thank God you're down," Maya groans, pulling me out of my head.

I blink, adjusting to the bright foyer lights. She is curled on the sofa, wrapped in a thick cashmere blanket. Her face is pale, her knees tucked tightly against her chest.

"What's wrong?" I ask, rushing over to her. "Are you sick?"

"The absolute worst period cramps of my entire life," she whimpers, pressing a hand to her lower stomach. "I got it mid-beach groove and now I have to sit with it for hours. How unlucky is that?”

"Oh, sweetie. Let me stay back with you," I offer immediately, reaching down to touch her arm. "I'll make you tea. We can watch a movie."

"No!" She gasps, swatting my hand away with a weak laugh. "Look at you. You look absolutely stunning in that dress. You finally got out of bed after dealing with Chad's bullshit. I am not letting you waste this night.”

Before I can argue, footsteps echo through the room.

Marcus steps into the light. He has changed into a fresh suit. It is almost like that is all he has. I have never not seen him in a suit. His eyes sweep over me, lingering on my exposed chest before sliding over to his daughter.

"The car is waiting, Maya, and..." he begins.

But she cuts in. "I'm out, Dad. Period from hell. But you have to take Chloe to Rosé. She has been dying to see it."

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

"I see," Marcus murmurs, pulling away after kissing Maya’s cheek.

Everyone knows his best friend, Arthur Pendleton, looks like a Greek god, and Maya saying that makes it look like I am desperate to see the man. He is in business with my family, but the closest I have ever come to him was the day he dropped Maya off with Marcus on our first day of college.

"Go have fun!" Maya pushes my hip, flashing a pained smile. "Go see Arthur's place. It's insane.” Then she lowers her voice with a wink. “And you might get something good.”

I stumble forward from the push, and Marcus walks away without another word. I follow him out, my heart hammering against my chest.

On a normal night, we would have taken the spacious Rolls-Royce, or at least two separate cars. But Marcus turns away the second car, insisting we take one since Maya isn’t going. He gets into the front passenger seat, and I stand there for a second until the driver opens the back door for me. He never sits in front. It is his fucking car.

The intentional distance is clear.

Forty minutes later, the car pulls up a winding, tree-lined driveway, and the breath leaves my mouth.

Rosé is a massive, breathtaking estate. Sprawling modern buildings made of glass cut through the manicured vineyards. It houses Arthur Pendleton's entire empire—his world-renowned wine label, elite restaurants, and corporate offices.

The door opens, and a man steps forward to greet us. Arthur Pendleton looks like absolute royalty. He is forty-five, immeasurably elegant, and wearing a tailored European linen blazer.

"Marcus!" Arthur smiles, clasping Marcus's hand before turning his warm, sophisticated gaze toward me. "And you must be Chloe. Maya told me you were staying with them, but she didn't mention how utterly captivating you are."

"Thank you, Mr. Pendleton," I stammer, flushing.

As I speak, I catch a sudden movement to my left. Marcus is standing with his arms crossed, his jaw clenched so tight a vein is pulsing near his ear. He is glaring at Arthur's smile.

I'm just seeing things, I tell myself, shaking my head slightly as we walk inside. He doesn't care. Why would he?

We are led to a private, candlelit dining terrace overlooking the glowing vineyards. Almost immediately, Marcus and Arthur lock into deep conversation, discussing market shares and the boring things my mother makes me listen to during her meetings.

I am completely sidelined, but I barely care. Mostly because I am battling my own mind about Marcus. 

I shouldn’t have come, but Saying, 'Hey Maya, I can't have dinner with your father because he saw me masturbating,' wasn't exactly a feasible option.

Soon, we are served, and I try to bury myself in my food. But then...

“Mmh... fresh grapes.” The deep sound scrapes through my ears, almost making me choke as I look up at Marcus.

“The very best,” Arthur concurs.

My eyes remain on Marcus's mouth for a good minute, watching his lips wrap around the rim of his wine glass. Then, he picks up a piece of steak, and my mouth practically falls open as I watch his jaw move as he chews, though I cover it by lifting my own wine glass. I watch the visible veins in his large forearms every time he lifts his fork.

My mind spins violently backward into my bedroom. I imagine those exact lips pressed against the column of my neck. I imagine those hands gripping my waist, bruising my skin, pulling me hard against his chest.

An unholy heat blooms between my thighs. I press my legs tightly together under the tablecloth, trying to swallow the gasp rising in my throat. I am wet. Incredibly wet. Every movement of his mouth feels like a physical touch against my skin.

The friction of my own thighs, combined with the suffocating intensity of staring at him, becomes too much. Right there, during the main course, while the two men discuss, my body betrays me. A quiet orgasm rips through my lower stomach.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my chest heaving silently as the ecstasy shatters my brain. I feel completely exposed, and utterly dirty.

"Come," Arthur's voice suddenly breaks through my haze, and my eyes snap open.

My heart thunders so fast. Did he know I came? I ask myself, looking around with flushed cheeks. But then Marcus pushes his seat back with a sharp scrape.

"I want to show you two the massive vintage wine barrels that just arrived from France today," Arthur adds, and my legs automatically prop me up.

My thighs are so wet that I fear it might seep through my dress. I only have a thin thong on.

Marcus adjusts his cuffs. "Let's see them."

They walk ahead of me. I take a deep breath, subtly smoothing down the back of my dress until I am sure it is dry. Then I pick up my pace behind them.

We walk down a dimly lit stone staircase into a massive, subterranean barrel room. The air is cool, smelling of aging grapes. Wooden barrels line the walls like an underground cathedral.

As Marcus steps away with the cellar master to inspect the seals, Arthur lingers back, walking beside me. He notices me staring blankly at the massive racks of wine.

"Do you like wine, Chloe?" he asks in a smooth voice.

"I do," I murmur, trying to sound sophisticated. "The process of making it is beautiful.”

He smiles, stepping a bit closer into my personal space. "Interesting. I thought you were strictly a fashion girl. I actually managed to get my hands on your Ivy League graduation thesis last week. Your breakdown on luxury brand scaling was brilliant."

My mouth parts in surprise. "You read my thesis?"

"I did," he nods, his eyes bright with interest. "And speaking of fashion... you might know that Rosé is expanding. We just launched our high-end fashion sector, Rosé Couture, right here on the estate. I am building a brand-new branch, and frankly, I need a brilliant, fresh mind to spearhead it."

He leans closer, his breath falling on my neck.

"I need your head, Chloe. I want to offer you the position. We could take a walk to the design pavilion to show you some exclusive upcoming pieces and discuss the contract."

My heart leaps. A job like that, straight out of college, is a dream. My mother wouldn’t have to force me to run her logistics company anymore.

"Mr. Pendleton, that sounds—"

Before the word can leave my mouth, Marcus speaks…