All Chapters of MY FATHER'S BEST FRIEND,MY FORBIDDEN ADDICTION : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

10 Chapters

chapter one: the arrest

Chloe's POV That morning, I watched him get ready. His suit was perfect. For a second, I remembered why I fell for the idea of him.“Ready to make us official?” he asked, smiling.I forced a smile back.“I’m ready.”It was the truth.Just not the one he thought.---The ballroom was too much. Too many flowers, too many of my father’s rich friends. I watched them from my window.My father stood there, looking proud enough to break my heart. Beside him was Richard, Dad’s best friend. He wasn’t drinking his champagne—just watching. His calm gaze made me feel strangely steady.And in the third row… a woman with tired eyes. Two small children squirmed beside her.His real family.My heart turned to stone.Everyone was here. Perfect.Almost everyone.My eyes went to the empty chair in the front row.That was Rita’s spot. A last-minute trip had taken her to Singapore.I’ll be watching in spirit,she’d texted.---My dad knocked and came in. “My darling girl,” he said, eyes shiny.This dress cos

Chapter two: sanctuary of home

Chloe's POV My father’s house is my safe place. At least, it’s supposed to be.But when the big iron gates closed behind me, it didn’t feel like a refuge. It felt like a beautiful, quiet cage.I’d been hiding in my old bedroom for three days.The world thinks I’m hiding from the scandal. The pictures. The whispers.And I am.But that’s not all.I’m hiding from my own heart. Because it does this stupid, hopeful jump every time my father even says his name.“Richard is coming for dinner tonight,” Dad said at breakfast. He didn’t look up from his paper.My fork slipped. It clanged loudly on my plate.“Why?”The word was too sharp.He finally looked at me. His eyes are usually warm. Today they were flat. Like stones.“Because I invited him. He’s my oldest friend.”His voice got gentle. “He’s called me, Chloe. Every day since it happened. He doesn’t ask for gossip. He asks about you.”A shiver cut down my spine.Every day.---Then, salvation roared up the driveway.Rita’s bright red conv

Chapter three : The arrival

Richard's POV I’ve run companies on less sleep than I’ve had this week.But this… this felt different.This wasn’t business. This was personal.And personal hurts in a way numbers never could.The flight felt endless. Every minute in the air was another minute she was alone in that big, quiet house. Staring at walls that had nothing to say back.I kept checking my watch. Pointless. Time wasn’t moving. My mind was already there—with her.Alistair met me at the door. He looked like he hadn’t slept either. Shadows under his eyes, shoulders slumped.“Thank you for coming,” he said, his voice rough, like gravel under a boot.I just nodded.What could I say? Your daughter’s heart is broken, and mine hasn’t felt right since I heard?So I kept quiet. Sometimes silence is the only honest thing left.We stood in the hallway like two strangers. Two men who’d faced angry shareholders and legal battles without flinching—now completely undone by the quiet coming from the second floor.Then I felt

Chapter four: The confession

Chloe's POV He didn’t let go all at once. It was slow. His arms loosened, and his hands slid down to my elbows, then fell away. The air felt cold where he had been.We didn’t speak. We just walked to the stone bench by the dark water and sat. Not touching, but close. My body still felt warm from where he’d held me. My cheek remembered the soft wool of his shirt.I pulled my knees up and looked at him. The moonlight showed the tired lines near his eyes. He didn’t look like my father’s friend just then. He just looked like a man. A man who had seen me cry and hadn’t looked away.Then the words left my mouth in a quiet breath.“What’s the worst way someone can betray you?”I don’t know what made me ask it. The words were just there, sitting in the quiet between us, and then they weren’t.“What would you call the worst kind of betrayal?”The night felt thick. We were on the stone bench by the pool, the water dark and still. Richard didn’t move. He just stared ahead, his face half in moon

Chapter five : The breaking point

Chloe's POV.I couldn’t stop thinking about him.About last night.His low voice in the dark. "I’ve wondered what you would taste like."The way he looked at me—like I was a secret he was scared to keep, and even more scared to lose.The memory played on a loop in my head. It left me restless. Too warm, even in the cool morning air.---Breakfast was another performance.Rita sat beside me, stirring her tea. The silver spoon made a soft ting against the china.She looked at me with eyes that were almost teary. "Chloe, sweetheart… I have to leave early. Something came up at the office."I placed my hand over hers. "It’s okay, Rita. Thank you for being here. It meant a lot."She gave me a light hug, her perfume sweet and familiar. "I love you, you know."My father’s cheerful voice cut in from the head of the table. "If I didn’t know better, I’d think you two were planning a business takeover."Rita laughed—a bright, polished sound. "Only if you’re supplying the oranges, Alistair."We al

chapter six

The PermissionThe days began to feel different. Lighter. The house didn’t feel like a cage anymore.My dad noticed first. We were on the balcony one night, the stars bright above us.“He makes you really happy,” he said, his voice quiet in the dark.I looked over at him. “Is it that obvious?”“To me it is.” He smiled, a soft, sad thing. “Your mood… it’s like you’ve come back to life. Ever since Richard got here.”I felt my cheeks get warm. “He’s easy to talk to.”My dad turned fully toward me. His face was serious. “Richard is a good man. One of the best I’ve ever known.” He reached over and squeezed my hand. “Whatever makes you happy, my love. That’s all I want.”My throat felt tight. “Dad…”“I mean it, Chloe. I see the way you look at each other.”“It’s not…”“It’s not what?” he asked gently. “Wrong? Sweetheart, life is too short. Real goodness is too rare. If you find it, you hold on.”I couldn’t speak. I just nodded, tears in my eyes.---Richard didn’t act like some stuffy old

chapter seven

New York Chloe's POV The drive was quiet, but not uncomfortable. His thumb kept stroking the back of my hand in slow circles. Every few minutes, I’d glance at him—the strong line of his jaw, the way he focused on the road.“You’re quiet,” he said after a while.“I’m nervous,” I admitted. “And trying not to ask a hundred questions.”“Ask one,” he said, glancing at me. “Just one for now.”I took a shaky breath. “Is this… a bad idea?”He didn’t answer right away. His hand tightened around mine. “It’s the best bad idea I’ve ever had,” he finally said. “And the only one I don’t want to talk myself out of.”That made my heart do something funny—a mix of fear and pure thrill.---We pulled up to the private airfield. No crowded terminals, no lines. Just a sleek white jet waiting on the tarmac.A uniformed attendant opened my door. “Ms. Dufort.”Richard came around, taking my bag. His hand found the space between my shoulder blades as we walked to the steps. Not possessive. Protective.Insi

The unfinished thing

Richard's POVI have brought heads of state into this penthouse. I have signed deals at that dining table worth more than entire companies.None of that prepared me for watching Chloe Dufort turn slowly beneath my ceiling, New York glittering behind her like it rose just to witness her arrival. She looks younger here. Softer. And more dangerous to me than she has ever been."It's different," she says quietly. "From Orlando.""It's honest," I reply.I should feel in control. Instead I feel like a man standing on the edge of something irreversible."Close your eyes," I say.She stills. "Richard…""Trust me."A beat. Then she nods.I take a silk tie from the console table and step behind her. The fabric slides over her eyes. My fingers brush her temples, her hairline. I tie it carefully.My hand settles at the small of her back. She exhales slowly.We take the private elevator down three levels — below everything anyone associates with me. The doors open to dim light and the faint scent

morning after

I wake slowly, like I’m surfacing from warm water.For one suspended, weightless moment, I don’t remember where I am. I just know I’m wrapped in something solid and clean and expensive. The sheets are impossibly soft. The mattress feels like it was designed specifically for this body. The air smells faintly of cedar and linen and him.Richard.Memory slides back into place in a rush — gold leaf ceilings, mosaic floors, city lights across bare skin. His voice asking if I would let him choose me. My yes.My heart beats once, hard and sure.I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. It’s not the ballroom’s restored opulence — this is sleek and modern, pale and understated. The bedroom is enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows line one wall, sheer curtains filtering morning light into a soft silver glow. Somewhere below, the city hums, already awake and moving.I sit up slowly.I don’t remember coming here.A faint smile touches my mouth. He must have carried me.The thought does something

Just Chloe

The building is made of glass and certainty.I feel the gap the moment we step out of the car.It rises in front of us — steel, reflective, sharp against the Manhattan sky. His name sits discreetly beside the entrance, etched into brushed metal like it’s always belonged there.St. Clair Global.People move differently here. Faster. Straighter. Purposeful in a way that makes me instinctively check my posture.Richard doesn’t slow down.He doesn’t need to.The revolving doors part. The lobby is all marble and quiet power — muted conversations, heels clicking, security nodding before he even reaches the desk.“Good morning, Mr. St. Clair.”There’s a shift in the air when he walks in. It’s subtle but undeniable. Like gravity adjusting around him.He nods. Efficient. Calm. “Morning.”His hand rests lightly at the small of my back as we walk toward the elevators. Protective, not possessive. But I feel the eyes.Who is she?I feel young here.Twenty-four in a world built by fifty-year-old de

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