Sixteen-year-old Chloe Conrad ambled into the kitchen of her parents’ home in the foothills of Chatsworth in the northernmost part of Los Angeles.
The area, always in danger from wildfire, mudslides, and, of course, earthquakes, was where the rebels of Hollywood built their mansions amongst the sagebrush, boxy boulders, and jackrabbits.
Chloe hated it. She’d much rather live in the trendy spots, like Beverly Hills, Bel Air—or better yet, Malibu.
“Good morning, Chloe,” her mother gushed as she sipped coffee and played a word game on her iPad. “What do you have planned for the day?”
She grunted and shrugged.
“I’m going to the police station to sign up for their Volunteer Surveillance Team today. Do you want to come?” Her mom smiled. “We would be undercover, and like Charlie’s Angels, direct the cops where to go to arrest bad guys.” She shut down her tablet and went to the coffee machine and poured a cup, then looked at Chloe and held up an empty mug.
She nodded and motioned for her mom to bring her coffee as well.
In addition to the mug, her mother carried a small caddy that held creamer and sugar and set it in front of her.
Chloe dumped coffee creamer into her cup. “Sorry. I can’t play detective today. I’m supposed to hang out with Mal. We may even drive out to the beach.”
“Why would you drive all the way to the ocean, dear? We have a lovely pool right here in our backyard.”
Because we’re trying to escape our parents and meet guys?
“We’re just tired of crashing at home.” She smiled. “But you go ahead and snag your angel wings from Charlie.”
Her mother returned the grin. “Crime is on the rise. I think it’s important to give back to the community.”
Chloe turned her head and rolled her eyes. Her mother was so disillusioned thinking she could help prevent crime. “What time is your meeting?”
“Eleven. When are you leaving for the beach?”
“As soon as I take a shower.”
“You should really eat something.”
“We’ll grab some fast food on our way.”
“Do you want me to make you a lunch?”
Chloe shook her head. “No, we’ll be okay.”
Her mother looked at her watch and rose from her chair. “I’d better hustle if I’m going to be presentable to join the police force.” She glanced back at her daughter. “What time do you think you’ll be home?”
She tilted her head. “I’m not sure, but I’ll call you and let you know.”
Two hours later, Chloe parked her red Toyota MR2 in the driveway of a house in Glendale.
Her heart pounded as she climbed the steps to the small bungalow with the white picket fence. She rang the bell.
Eloy Beglaryan flung open the door and pulled her into the bungalow.
Immediately, he started kissing her, and pulling at her clothes.
“Whoa, soldier. At ease. Can’t you at least say hello?”
He bit lightly at her neck.
The whiskers from his beard tickled.
“Not when your beauty has overwhelmed me with desire.” He took her hand and led her toward the bedroom.
She allowed herself to be pulled along, but deep inside resented the way he assumed she was willing to have sex with him.
Of course, before she’d arrived, she knew they’d probably wind up in bed. But she didn’t like the fact he’d taken the act as a given.
Once he stripped them of their clothes, he laid her out on the sheets, then stopped. Placing his hand over his heart, he sighed. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She stretched in what she thought was a sexy pose. “Thank you.”
He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re beautiful. I want something to remember this moment.”
Alarm bells sounded in Chloe’s head. Her parents had warned her time and time again to be careful of pictures. Once they were on the Internet, they were there forever.
She snatched the sheet to cover her body.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t want my picture taken.”
He smiled at her—his sexy, smoldering smile. “Come on, Chloe. Just a boob shot. I can use it as a visual aid for when I’m alone and we can’t be together.”
She tried to counter with why she shouldn’t let him take the photos, but in the end, he’d gotten what he wanted. Worse yet, he’d suggested to her that he’d love her even more if he could take photos of her below her waist. And she’d let him.