“The other folks will arrive in a bit. We’d like to talk to you first.”
His words hit my stomach like a sledgehammer, and my first physical reaction is to either vomit, run back out the door and leave, or both.
Both would be better, even though I’m finally starting to warm up.
But we pass through the heavy wooden library doors, and he pushes them closed behind us with a softclick.
I find Max and Rowan, dressed equally formally and looking equally handsome, standing by the fireplace, holding rocks glasses containing some sort of amber liquor.
Scotch, I think it is. I think that’s what they drink.
“Here she is,” Max says graciously, kissing the back of my hand and then the side of my neck.
Rowan, true to form, just raises his glass to me in greeting. “Heya,” he mumbles.
Probably the least friendly person I’ve come across in my life. But the twinkle in his eye gets me every time. And then there’s the way he is when we have our clothes off, doing… adult things. The things I love doing.
Every time I look at him, I blush.
Actually, anytime I look at any of the guys I blush, an unforgiving heat washing over me, giving away all my dirty, filthy thoughts.
Greyson takes my hand and leads me to a cushy velvet sofa, which I sink into so deeply I’m not sure how I’ll get back up.
I’m sitting slightly sideways to minimize wrinkles to my dress. Greyson turns so his knee’s touching mine, and he looks directly at me.
God, he’s amazing. All the guys are, actually. Even Rowan. Now that I’ve been around him several times, I think of him as a pineapple—prickly on the outside but sweet and juicy inside. He’s got a chip on his shoulder but seems like a good guy underneath it all.
Max, so cute with his mass of curls, confided in me in a moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability that he thought he’d die alone. When I probed, he was vague, but I was pretty sure he meant in terms of a romantic partner.
Does he really think no one could fall in love with him? Crazy.
Not that I would. No, not at all.
And then there’s Greyson, the quietest. Even though he’s younger than the other two, he’s got the start of some distinguished crow’s feet in the outer corners of his eyes and a bit of gray peeking through the dark hair on his temples.
Someday I’m certain he’ll be one of those head-turning ‘older gentlemen’ that the ladies drool over.
“We have something to discuss with you, Lu,” he says, snapping me out of my reverie, his hot, hungry gaze drifting over me as he speaks.
Ugh. I don’t stand a chance against him. Any of them.
“What’s up? What did you want to talk about?” I ask, uneasily eyeing each guy, my hands folded in my lap to hide my nerves.
But they just smile back at me, relaxed in their big, comfy chairs that probably each cost more than all the furniture in my parents’ house together.
Rowan takes a sip of his drink. “We’ve had a talk with Gwen,” he starts.
Gwen? Oh, this can’t be good.
Nothing good ever comes of a conversation when Gwen’s name is mentioned, at least not in my experience.
He continues. “We’ve discussed having you exclusively. As in, only the three of us can see you at the club.”
Oh. That’s… interesting.
Actually, it’s more than interesting. I like the idea. At least I think I do.
“What… what did Gwen say?” I ask.