Chloe Noir Novels & Stories

As if we were telepathically connected, he took a step forward just when I did. Before he could put one foot over another, Chloe sauntered in. Her hair was perfectly tousled like she’d intentionally styled it for tragedy. Her eyes sparkled like someone had spritzed them with artificial tears, and she angled her phone like a seasoned soap actress mid-breakdown— portable ringlight already attached. “Oh my God,” she breathed dramatically, angling her face toward the light, “you guys, my little niece nearly drowned—” Her voice cracked in all the wrong places. “Please send prayers to Emily—my poor baby girl—”

"Oh, I knew I smelled strawberry and privilege up here!" Chloe rounded the corner of the ferns. She had changed out of her ruined, pink-stained Chanel blouse and was now wearing an equally offensive, outrageously expensive champagne-colored silk halter top and matching wide-leg trousers. She looked immaculate, holding a crystal glass of white wine in her hand. But the moment her eyes landed on us—specifically on Dani hovering over me on a picnic blanket—her bright, fake smile faltered. Her eyes narrowed into sharp, icy slits.

Chloe wears white, though it already feels like a poor choice. Nerrissa studies Lira carefully. The girl does not fidget. Does not look toward the crowd for reassurance. She rolls her shoulders once, then lifts her chin with annoying composure. “Begin!” Damon calls. Chloe attacks first, fast and furious. Her fist cuts through the air toward Lira’s jaw. Lira ducks, then pivots, driving her elbow toward Chloe’s ribs. Chloe twists away just in time, catching Lira’s wrist and attempting to flip her.

There was another soft knock. I walked to the door and opened it. And there she was. Chloe. Her brown curls were pinned back loosely, and she wore one of those plain gray flimsy omega uniforms that barely covered her boobs and exposed her long shapely legs. The gown was too short, and I wondered whose twisted mind conceived such a revealing outfit for omegas. Then she looked up at me with those soulful green eyes that turned me to mush. I loved her eyes, they were a rare shade of green and very beautiful.

She stood in front of the camera, elegantly presenting her work. “I’m Carina Morrison, founder of Astraeus… Our debut show will be at the Beverly Hilton. It’s going to be a show that redefines tradition…” My hands were shaking. I fumbled for my phone and dialed Lorenzo. “Lorenzo, turn on the TV!” “What?” “Now! The fashion channel!” A few minutes later, Lorenzo’s shout came through the phone. “Chloe! That’s my Chloe!” Chloe appeared on screen, too. She was in a black power suit, looking like a CEO.

Ready. I stepped out of my room and stopped dead in my tracks. *Holy fuck.* Chloe was coming down the hallway toward me. That dress… Jesus Christ. It was a killer. Deep color that made her skin glow, a dangerous slit running high up one thigh, and a neckline that showed just enough cleavage to make a man lose his mind. Her blonde hair was styled in soft curls that bounced with every step. Her makeup was perfect — bold lips, smoky eyes that made her brown eyes pop even more. Her body in that dress was sinful.

Chloe had gone all out ice sculptures, a live string quartet, a floating dance floor lit from beneath like glass over water. And at the center of it all stood Chloe herself. She wore white. Not innocent white weaponized white. A fitted gown with a plunging neckline, diamonds dripping from her ears like punctuation marks. She laughed loudly, one manicured hand resting possessively on her hip as she held court. Her eyes found Elena within seconds. The smile Chloe gave her was slow. Deliberate. Predatory. “Oh,” Chloe said, loud enough for the people around her to hear. “She came.”

He was still trying to figure out whether Joey truly loved Zachary. Looking at the stern-faced Zachary, Henry said, "There's this major scandal going on with Chloe. They're saying her designs aren't hers. "And get this, she supposedly can't even sew. The kicker is, there's videos and audio evidence – it's all over the place!" Thinking he misheard, Kent repeated, "Hold up, what? Chloe's designs aren't hers, she can't sew, and there were videos and audio recordings as proof?"

The door opened, and a person walked in. Oval-faced, with delicate and beautiful features, she was dressed in a white off-shoulder lace blouse, tucked into a tight pencil skirt, adorned with a full set of Cartier jewelry. She had her arms draped in a Chanel coat and held an Hermès handbag. It was Chloe. Upon seeing her, Reginard's expression cooled slightly. "What are you doing here?" Chloe swayed her slender waist, elegantly walking behind Reginard. She draped her arm over the back of his chair, leaned down, and her red lips almost brushed against his earlobe. "I heard Reggie was dining here, so I thought I'd come by to say hello."

I felt like I had found a kindred spirit in Chantelle, someone who understood me and accepted me for who I was. Chantelle and Delcan became close and they were always trying new things. One night when they were back from shopping. Chantelle went inside the shower to have her bath. She stayed there for a long time relaxing. When she came out of the bathroom, she was totally naked and she realized she forgot to get towel. She bent over to the bed to take the towel to wipe her wet body. She was was busy drying herself but she did not notice Delcan presence in the room. She felt someone was giving hot gaze on her naked body. She turned around to see Delcan was standing right behind her.