Chloe (Made Men, #3)(47)

As she looked at Amo, memories flashed before her …



Smiling proudly, he took his seat. “You thought I wasn’t going to actually sit beside you, didn’t you?”

Chloe’s answer was scooting her chair over to the very edge, though it didn’t give her much more room because he practically took up the whole table.

By his smirk disappearing, she could tell he didn’t like her answer very much …



… When a tray was extended to her, she looked up to see Amo holding it out for her. It was the first time she could see something that almost seemed nice under his rough exterior.

Slowly, she took it from him, having to look away as she did. She had grown almost used to the roughness of him, and seeing him differently for once seemed weird …



… “You know why they’re staring like that, don’t you?”

She looked to the floor. “Because they think I’m a fre—”

“No, you’re not a freak,” Amo snapped. He paused for just an instant before he said, “It’s because they’ve never seen me walk a girl to class before.” …



… “Place your hands on the table,” he whispered over to her.

She quickly shook her head and started to press her nails into the skin.

“Please, Chloe, I can’t take you doing that to yourself,” he pleaded.

When she glanced at him, it was the first time she really looked at him, like really looked into his eyes. They weren’t the black abyss staring back at her like she had always thought. They might have been dark, but they also had a lightness to them. Almost like a sparkle of silver running through giving them life. They were dark yet light, reminding her of yin and yang.

Taking a breath, she placed her hands on the table …



… The next song was louder than the last, making Amo lean down to whisper in her ear. “Will you dance with me, then?”

His breath was warm as it touched her skin, his body just a few inches away. It was the closest he had ever been to her, making the hairs stand up on the back of her neck.

“When you’re sitting in California, and I’m missing you, I’ll regret that I didn’t get to dance with you once.”



She now turned her eyes to Lucca, the memory of when they first met flashing …



“Hey, darlin’,” a deep voice sounded behind her.

Chloe jumped at the sound. A second later, a man appeared on the other side of the rails. He was terrifyingly beautiful and scared the hell out of her, regardless of how handsome he was. She didn’t think a man that good-looking should even exist, or a man that chilling.

Chloe didn’t move a muscle, completely frozen in place.

He kept walking toward the entrance of the gazebo and went up the step. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She had no idea how she hadn’t heard him. She didn’t even know where he had come from.

She watched him lean up on a pillar, blocking her exit. After every hair had managed to stand up on her body at one look of his eyes, Chloe darted her gaze down to her lap and started fiddling with her hands.

“I’m Nero’s brother, Lucca. I would shake your hand, but you wouldn’t shake it, anyway.”

Chloe quickly glanced back up at him before looking down again. How did he know that?

Lucca read her eyes. “I overheard that you’re apparently germaphobic.”

Chloe glanced back up at him again. Apparently? He was really starting to freak her out now.

Chloe attempted to decide if she should honestly be afraid and try to run away. Yes, I should. However, Lucca was blocking the only exit, and she was not going anywhere near him.

Chloe saw him move; as a result, she regretfully had to look at him again. She held her breath when he put his hand into his pocket to pull something out. When a pack of cigarettes came out, she let out her breath. She continued to watch him pull a cigarette out and then hold it between his lips as he put the pack back in his pocket. Going into his other pocket, he pulled out a lighter. Chloe thought she was going to have a heart attack if he went into his pocket again.

Lucca flipped his lighter open and lit the end, making it burn a bright red as he inhaled.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

Chloe slowly shook her head. She wished she could look away from him, but she was too afraid. She could tell he was Nero’s brother without a doubt; they both oozed confidence and sex. They looked very similar, as well.

Lucca had the same skin color, but she couldn’t quite tell if his hair was black or brown. The same went with his eyes; she couldn’t tell if they were blue or green. She would swear they were one color before the string lights picked up the other color, changing her mind all over again. Lucca, however, was a billion times more frightening and a million times more handsome than Nero. She figured it had to do with the age gap, but one thing they were very different about was the way they dressed. Nero only dressed in button-up shirts and slacks, while Lucca was wearing a black sweatshirt and dark, loose jeans.

She wasn’t used to seeing hair as long as his. It was swept back, yet it touched the back of his neck. He clearly didn’t care if it wasn’t trimmed and neat, just like his unshaven stubble. Everyone she was around always looked immaculate, making his bad-boy appearance more like ‘don’t cross me, or I will murder your entire family tree.’ I don’t think it matters what he wears; he would look like that, regardless.