“Or Paris,” Seb says behind me. He bands his arms around my waist and gently pulls me upright, drawing me into his lap. “We have lots of ideas.”
“But you’ll say yes?” Cyrus checks.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, yes, yes.”
He makes a punched-out noise and grabs my cheeks, pulling me into a kiss. Cami squeals indignantly, and he kisses her cheek too, nuzzling her tiny ear.
Jack grins, squeezing in next to me and taking my hand. “We love you,” he says softly.
“I love you, too,” I choke out. “All of you.”
He beams and curls a finger under my chin, kissing me gently. He tastes like chocolate chips and coffee, and I fall into him, my body melting into his. When we finally gasp apart, I look up at Sebastian, tears rolling down my face.
“Happy Mother’s day,” he says with a small smile, and I pull his lips down to mine.
* * *
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Want MORE reverse harem? Read on for a sneak preview of my previous novel,Triple Duty Bodyguards!
Triple-Duty Bodyguards
Chapter One - Briar
“Now, don’t be dramatic, darling,” my PR manager drawls, examining her nail beds. “It’s not like the man was trying tokillyou.”
I close my eyes, rubbing my temples. It’s just turned four AM, and my head is still spinning from last night’s rosé. Red and blue lights flash through the window of my little pink-tiled kitchen, shining in from the police car parked in my drive. Over my head, I can hear the heavy footsteps and low voices of the police officers investigating upstairs.
I am tired.
“A stranger climbed the side of my house, broke my bedroom window, and jerked off in my bed,” I say slowly. “I’m not being dramatic.”
Julie shrugs from her position at the marble breakfast bar, fishing her compact out of her designer purse. “He didn’t even touch you, babe,” she mumbles, patting powder over her pert nose. “This hardly seems like a reason to fire poor Rodriguez.”
My eyes slide to Rodriguez, my home security guard. He refuses to look at me, shifting uncomfortably in his spot next to Julie. His hair is ruffled, his fly is undone, and his shirt is unbuttoned. Julie’s red lipstick is all over his neck.
It’s not too difficult to work out how the intruder managed to get past my gate.
“Yes,” I say flatly. “It is. Rodriguez, do up your trousers and go.”
His eyes widen. “But, ma’am—”
“Don’tma’amme. You don’t work for me anymore.” I wave at the front door. “Go.”
He stands, puffing his chest out. “Ma’am, really, that’s not fair—”
“Of course it’sfair,” I snap. “You were too busy shagging my staff to notice the strange manbreaking into my bedroom.I pay you six figures, and you still can’t get through an eight-hour shift without getting your rocks off. You’re fired. Now get out of my house, before I call your wife and tell her why you no longer have a job.”
I turn on my heel and leave the kitchen, ignoring the muttered ‘bitch’behind my back.
Right. That’s me. I’m not the one who screwed around on the job and cheated on my pregnant wife. But as per usual,I’mthe bitch.
Of course, most people would agree with him. I’m a well-renowned cow. I even have titles: you are talking to the proud three-time winner ofGossmagazine’s ‘Biggest Celebrity Diva’ award. A major UK newspaper crowned me ‘Britain’s Biggest Bitch’ just a couple of weeks ago. I don’t think they’re actuallysupposedto be awards, but I’ll take them all the same.