Contents
TITLE PAGE
Synopsis
Also by Tansey Morgan
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Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
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About the Author
Also by Tansey Morgan
Copyright
TWISTED FATE
The Harlequin’s Harem
Book One
By Tansey Morgan
I'd always known New Orleans was magic; what I didn't know was how dark that magic was.
When a group of three, mysterious men showed up at the restaurant where I work, I had no idea they would be the catalyst to a string of events that would shoot me out of my world and into something out of a fantasy. All of a sudden, I'm being chased by freaks through a park, I'm learning some truths about the world that make my entire life seem like a lie, and all the while I'm trying to keep my sanity in check so I can find my friend and put things back to normal again. But normal isn't something I'm going to be able to go back to any time soon, because I'm about to see things I just won't be able to forget, and even if I did, those things would haunt my dreams; dreams which were about to become very real.
They say they have answers for me, these three strange men who appeared one night as if fate had brought them to me. They say I have to trust them if I want to make it through this alive. But how can I trust them when I can't trust the very world I've come to know throughout my entire life?
Also by Tansey Morgan
The Last Serpent
Serpent’s Touch, #1
Serpent’s Desire, #2
Serpent’s Kiss, #3
Serpent’s Bite, #4
Serpent’s Hold, #5
Serpent’s Revenge, #6
The Last Serpent, #7
The Labyrinth Queen
The Labyrinth Queen, #1
The Harlequin’s Harem
Twisted Fate, #1
Harlequin Dreams, #2 (June, 2018)
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***
To Soobee and Ashley, who were there for us from day one and made this crazy writing journey possible.
***
CHAPTER ONE
Ever had a feeling that tonight is the night? That warm, excited anticipation that gnaws at the pit of your stomach like a saw biting into a wooden log, back and forth, back and forth. You don’t always know where the feeling comes from, but it fills you with an almost nervous energy, the kind that makes a person bounce their knee, or bite their nails, or in my case, very nearly spill a frozen mango daquiri on one of my customers.
If I hadn’t stopped to fix the braid I had plaited my long, thick, black hair into in front of the mirrored wall behind the bar before picking the drink up and taking it over to table four, I’d have turned around and walked straight into the boy hurrying to the bathroom. Who said vanity was good for nothing? But the boy had managed to run right past me, allowing me to leave the daquiri with the older man in the bowling shirt at table four. Thank the universe for small favors.
“Here you go,” I said, “Could I get either of you anything else while I’m here?”
“No, thank you, sweetie,” the woman sitting at the table said. She has lipstick on her teeth. My head tilted to the side. I hadn’t noticed it until now, but once seen, it couldn’t be unseen.
Through sheer force of will, I snapped myself out of it and smiled. “No problem. I’ll bring you guys the check, then.”
The woman thanked me again, and I headed away from table four to table six, where a couple had just finished having dinner. Sweet Duke’s Eatery wasn’t a huge restaurant; it was cozy, and warm, with a modern aesthetic. There were two TV’s, one on either far wall, a long bar running between them. Tables which could seat four people were scattered around the floor, though in one corner of the room, three tables had been pushed together to accommodate an office party of about eleven.
At most we could get, maybe, forty people seated at one time, but the restaurant was always packed during the dinner rush and that meant it was always difficult to walk around inside during the evening. This was owed in part to the restaurant’s location—a choice spot on the corner of Decatur and Toulouse Street, walking distance to the port where the Steamboat Natchez departs on its twice daily cruises of the Mississippi River. There was plenty of foot traffic that came along this side of New Orleans’ French Quarter, and that meant plenty of tips.
My unqualified ass had been lucky to get the job; and even luckier to get a $20 tip on a $40 check.
“What the fu—” I almost blurted the word out but managed, somehow, to stop myself. There are kids around, Andi! “—frack,” I said under my breath, staring at the two twenty-dollar bills. Had they made a mistake? I looked around for the couple, but they were gone and had been gone for a few minutes. Then I checked the receipt slip, and there it was, written in blue pen right next to tip amount, a big $20.
I took the check and the $40 to the till where Lucia was working, tapping at the register, completing orders, registering payments. When I handed the check and the $20 over, she stared at the $20 in my hand and then turned her eyes up at mine, cocking a quizzical eyebrow and resting her hand on her hip.
“Embezzlement is a crime, you know,” she said.
I showed her the receipt. “Only if you’re actually stealing money, so this is legit mine.”
“Holy hell. Drinks are on you tonight then, huh?”
“As if $20 would buy us both drinks all night. I could probably buy myself one or maybe two drinks, depending on where we went.”
“Or it could buy us both the first round. That sounds pretty good, doesn’t it?” She turned her attention to the till and processed my check. “You know, I think it does,” she said to herself, “Yes, we’re going out tonight.”
“Out? I can’t.”
“Can’t? Why?”
“Because. I know you think I’m flushed with cash, but I’m an adult who pays rent; I need this to buy food with.”
She shut the till and turned to look at me again, her eyebrows furrowed, her brown eyes insistent. “When was the last time you had a little fun?”
“I have fun.”
“Staying home to watch Survivor isn’t fun.”
“Maybe not to you, but I like watching it.”
“It’s on tonight, isn’t it? That’s why you’re staying home…”
I bit my lower lip and turned my eyes away. “Maybe…” I said.
“I knew it! C’mon, Andi. Come out with me tonight. Who the hell watches appointment television these days, anyway? Just record it.”
“Uh, and risk spoilers? No thanks.”
“It’s Survivor, not Game of Thrones. I doubt the internet is going to spoil it for you.”
“Luce… I really don’t want to go out drinking tonight, okay? I’m happy for some company, though? If you want to come over and watch TV with me?”
Lucia pouted in a way that would make anyone in the world want to make her smile. “You’re no fun.”
“I believe you’ll find if you gave my hobbies a chance that I’m very fun.”
“Survivor is a show, not a hobby, and you’re boring as fuck right now.”
“Okay, that’s not fair.”
Lucia took my shoulders and put on the dramatic face she could muster. “Is it so wrong that I just… I just want to go out tonight, maybe have a drink, maybe two… maybe meet some handsome young man, spark up a conversation and… maybe, if I’m lucky, I can get me some.” She was grinning when she said that last part. Between her immaculately kept afro, her flawless face, and enviably long legs, Lucia never had any problem getting some on a night out.
“Seriously?”
“Oh, come on. When was the last time you got some?”
I had to think about it for a second, really think, and that alone was cause for concern. “Uh… Brandon.”
“Brandon? Really? That was the last time you had a little fun? Didn’t you break up like, a year ago?”
“Yes.”
Lucia shook her head. “Girl, you need to get laid. Come out with me tonight, let’s have some adventure.”
“Again, tempting, but I’m going to get all the adventure I need from the comfort of my own sofa.”
“Not with a man, you won’t,” Lucia grumbled under her breath.
“Yeah, anyway, you can bitch all you like, but I’d still love to have you at my place tonight? Think about it and—”
“You shut that pretty mouth of yours right up,” Lucia said, smothering my mouth with her hand and pointing at the front door.
I turned my head, awkward thanks to the presence of her hand around my face, and then I saw them; a trio of the most interesting men I had ever seen. They seemed to hesitate outside one of the restaurant’s doors for a moment, seemingly deciding whether or not to come inside. Lucia and I watched, neither of us breathing, as they made their decision, finally nodding in unison before heading into the restaurant.
“Holy… hell…” Lucia said. “Dibs.”
“Dibs? What?” I asked.
Lucia started moving around the till, but the phone rang at that very second. She stared at the phone, which was closer to her than it was to me. I stared too, watching the little light on the phone’s base unit flash. Lucia then rolled her eyes and reached for the phone, pulling it off the base.
“Dammit. You’re going to have to wait on them,” she said, bringing the phone up to her ear. Before I could object, she pressed the answer button on the phone. “Sweet Duke’s, how may I help you?”
I swallowed and turned to look at the guys. They’d chosen table nine, one of the ones closest to the doors, to the street. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed three menus and started on my way to where they were sitting, but not before giving myself one final glance in the long mirror behind the bar; and rolling my eyes.
Over the hours my once neat braid was now beyond repair, no matter how many times I had tried to fix it throughout my shift. The heat and humidity had also made it difficult to wear a full face of makeup, but I had learned a long time ago that my naturally tanned skin didn’t need much in the way of cosmetics in order to look clean and youthful—apparently; I couldn’t see it. So, all I usually needed to do was apply a little mascara and a touch of matte red lipstick, often a slightly darker shade of red, and I was at least presentable.
It’ll have to do, I thought, approaching the table where the three men were sitting.
As I arrived, I caught the tail end of a conversation they’d been sharing. I wasn’t sure why, but I had half expected them to be talking about sports; maybe because two of them looked like football players, and one of them looked like he managed a football team… but they weren’t talking about football. In fact, the more I thought about what they had been saying, the less I believed my own ears.
He, the manager, brought a set of bright, blue eyes—irises surrounded by a ring of silver—to bear on me, and for an instant I froze in my tracks. They were beautiful, the most intense set of eyes I had ever seen in my entire life, the kind of eyes that belonged to a man who with a look could command the attention of whoever was unfortunate enough to be caught under the weight of his gaze. His eyebrows climbed, and his lips pursed slightly.
“What can I get you?” he asked.
“Huh?” I asked.
His lips tugged into a sly smile. “That’s what you should be asking us, isn’t it? That or some variation of the phrase.”
“Oh, right, yeah, sorry… welcome to Sweet Duke’s, my name’s Andrea—Andi, for short. Can I start you guys off with some drinks?”
“Just three beers for now is fine.”
“Tap or bottle?”
“Nola Blonde will do, if you’ve got it.”
On the tablet I was holding, I tapped on the Locally Brewed Beer button three times, sending the order directly to the bar. “And do you know what you’d like to eat? The gumbo here is the best gumbo in town.”
“I saw the sign outside… I also saw three other signs claiming the same down the street.”
“Yeah, don’t believe those guys; we’re the best. Po boys are pretty amazing here too, but I’d go with the classic Duke Burger, that one’s my favorite.”
“I think we’ll need a minute.”
“Speak for yourself,” one of the other guys said. The first thing I noticed about him wasn’t the size of his shoulders and arms, it wasn’t the fullness of his lips, it wasn’t his chiseled jaw or the way his hazel eyes were focused on me like laser beams; it was the tattoos creeping out from under the short sleeves of his black t-shirt that was so tightly pressed against his skin, his muscles seemed ready to burst out of it at a moment’s notice. A dangerous, almost primal energy seemed to radiate from him, but where that energy felt dangerous, it was also protective, like he could just wrap you up in a hug and make all of the bad things in the world fall away.
“Oh?” I asked, “Do you know what you’re having?”
“I’ll take a burger,” he said, “Fries, and extra sauce on the side.”
I took his order, tapping the screen as I went, careful not to let my slightly trembling fingers send the wrong information to the kitchen. I had only ever done that once before, a couple of months ago. I hadn’t lost my job or anything like that, but needless to say, the vegetarian wasn’t impressed to have been served a cheese burger with extra bacon.
Satisfied that I’d sent the right order to the kitchen, I ripped my eyes away from one muscular, gorgeous man, only to settle them on another, equally muscular man. He was wearing a buttoned-down shirt, the white playing contrast to his brown skin. He had thick black hair, shaved at the sides of his head, the rest kept in tight dreadlocks. When he smiled at me I saw a mouth filled with the pearliest, whitest teeth, and his deep, brown eyes lit up with the rest of his face.
“How’s it going, Andi?” he asked.
“I’m g-good… what can I get you?”
“Shrimp po boy for me, with a little extra remoulade sauce, and extra pickles. See if it’s really as good as you say it is.”
I tapped the tablet and sent his order to the kitchen, nodding as I went. “I hope it doesn’t disappoint you! I’m sure it won’t, in fact.”
“I hope not, otherwise I’ll just have to come back here and try something else.”
We wouldn’t want that, would we? I swallowed and shook the warm, fluttering feeling building in my stomach loose, then turned my attention to the manager, who was sitting with his menu shut, his hands folded neatly above it. He picked the menu up and handed it to me, never once taking those blue eyes off me. It was almost as if he was trying to look into me, trying to figure me out with just a stare. I felt naked in front of him, and not in the good kind of way.
“What do you recommend that isn’t a burger or a po boy?” he asked.
“You should get the gumbo for sure, it’s pretty good.”
“Prett
y good? I thought it was the best in town.”
“It is. I mean, of course it is. Have you ever had gumbo?”
“I’m not from here, so no.”
“Then you should definitely try it at least once. People who visit New Orleans and don’t try all of the food we have to offer are doing a disservice to their taste buds.”
His eyes narrowed, and I caught a light flash past them—not a glow coming from within, not a light emanating from behind, but almost like a dash reflecting off them. A shiver ran up and along the length of my spine, and again, I didn’t like the sensation. This guy also had a dangerous quality about him, but rather than feeling like a bear, he felt like a serpent; cunning and guile, with an almost ancient wisdom.
“You’ve convinced me, then,” he said, the corner of his mouth pulling upwards slightly.
I put his order through too, then glanced around the table so as to not meet his piercing stare head on. “Alright, well, if there’s anything else, you just call me. I’ll be back with your drinks.”
Turning around, I headed away from the table as fast as I could without looking suspicious or losing awareness of my surroundings. By the time I returned to the till, Lucia was off the phone and seemed to have been watching the interaction unfold from across the bar. She arched an eyebrow at me as she poured the beers I had put in for from the tap.
“Well?” she asked, “How’d it go with tall, dark, and handsome over there?”
“How did what go?” I asked.
“You know, it?”
“I took their order…?”
“And did you score a number, too?”
I tutted and rolled my eyes. “Did I get a number? No, I didn’t score their numbers. Why would I do that?”
“Because men like those don’t just walk into our restaurant every night. You got lucky, and if you play your cards right, you can get lucky—fuck, we both can! It’s perfect.”
Twisted Fate: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy (The Harlequin's Harem Book 1) Page 1
