Love, Chloe

Love Chloe

Copyright © 2016 by Alessandra Torre.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Digital ISBN: 978-1-940941-75-2
Print ISBN: 978-1-940941-76-9

Editors: Madison Seidler, Marion Archer
Proofreaders: Angie Owens, Perla Calas
Front Cover Design: Perfect Pear Creative Covers
Image: Perrywinkle Photography
Cover Model: Brit Allen
Formatting: Erik Gevers

I’m blessed. I know that.

Someone was trying to break in.
I sat up with a start, pushing up my sleep mask, the sunlight coming in through the windows too bright, my drunk stumble into bed last night neglecting the blackout curtains. I found my phone and peered at it. 9:48 AM—an odd time for a robbery. There was more pounding, the sound coming from the living room, then the splintering of wood. I yanked at the cord of my cell and unplugged it, gripping it tightly, pushing the covers aside, my bare feet hitting the floor just as my bedroom door swung open, a stranger in the opening.

My search for a weapon stopped as I stared at the man, clad head-to-toe in tactical gear, a walkie-talkie at his mouth.

“Chloe Madison?” he asked.

“Yes?” I said weakly, praying my grandma underwear didn’t show underneath my baggy tee, a Versace number that barely hit mid-thigh.

“I’m from the FBI. As of now, this apartment is the property of the US Government. We’re going to have to ask you to leave, or you will be arrested.”

“But … I own this apartment,” I said weakly, my gaze darting around the bedroom, a Monistat box open on my dresser. I closed my eyes in embarrassment, two more men appearing in the doorway.

“Your parents
did
,” he corrected me. “Not anymore.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m going to need you to get dressed.”