“The penthouse floor?” I haven’t had the best dating experience in New York, and so, for a second, I wonder if Dominic thinks that upgrading my hotel room is the best way into my pants. Then I dismiss that thought as unworthy. I don’t know Dominic well, but the man is delicious. He doesn’t need to bribe anyone with a fancy room to get them to jump into his bed.
“Yes. I’m sorry we weren’t able to arrange this at check-in, Ms. Alves. Please call down to the front desk when you are ready to move, and a bellhop will carry your luggage up. There is a small private gym on your floor, as well as a pool and a sauna. Your keycard will give you access.”
I imagine walking in on Dominic and Carter working out, their hard muscles gleaming with sweat. I picture them pushing me down on a gym bench. Spreading my legs, lowering their mouths to my body… My throat goes dry, and I swallow hard. “Thank you,” I murmur. “This is very kind.”
“It’s the least we can do.” She hands me her business card. “Please enjoy your stay at the Grand River, and if there’s anything I can do to ensure your comfort, please let me know.”
The Rose Room is nice.
It is easily ten times the size of my old room, and contrary to what the name implies, it’s more of a suite than a room. The living room has a pair of comfortable couches, a massive TV, and a desk set up by the window, with a view of the ocean.
There’s a separate bedroom with a king-size bed, velvet drapes, and more ocean views. The bathroom alone is bigger than my apartment in New York. There’s a giant tub. Big enough for three, temptation whispers in my ear. The three of you could…
I banish that wicked voice and return to the living room. A dozen pale yellow rosebuds adorn the coffee table. I look for a card, but there isn’t one. I’m assuming they’re from Dominic, although maybe they’re part of the standard room amenities at the Grand River. Their delicate fragrance fills the room.
I can’t remember the last time a guy sent me flowers. It hasn’t happened in the five years I’ve lived in New York.
Thoughts of Carter and Dominic have been flitting at the edges of my mind all day. I sink into the couch and stare at the roses, and allow myself, just for an instant, to daydream. What would happen if I surrender to temptation? What would it be like? Would it be sex and nothing else? Would we go on dates? Would we kiss, or just fuck?
This is stupid.
My stomach grumbles. I forgot to eat lunch. Great. Now I’m skipping meals because I’m so horny I can’t think straight. I mean, I could stand to lose more than a few pounds, but still. I don’t typically forget to eat. Stupid gorgeous guys.
I shut my laptop and head downstairs. I’m not ready to run into Carter and Dominic, not when my head is so messed up, and my emotions seesaw all over the place. I head outside. There’s a diner across the street. A neon sign in the window assures me that it’s open, and a large poster on the window advertises the best apple pie on the East Coast.
Sugar. That’s the solution to what ails me. Not apple pie by itself—while I love the filling, the crust does nothing for me. But apple pie with ice cream? Warm sugary apples, smooth, creamy vanilla? Mmm. Yes, I’ll have to spend hours in the gym to work it off, but if it keeps me from jumping into bed with Carter and Dominic, it would have been worth it.
I cross the street. It’s half-past four. It’s an odd hour, too late for lunch, and a little too early for dinner, and there are no cars in the diner’s small parking lot. I push open the door and walk in…
…And stop dead in my tracks.
Only one booth is occupied.
Carter turns around when the door opens. Dominic lifts his head up and stares at me. A slow smile curves his lips. “Gabriella,” he says. “Hi.”
I don’t believe in fate. I don’t believe in destiny, and I don’t believe in magic. But if this isn’t magic, then what is it?
The Grand River has six restaurants. It has Michelin-starred chefs. Dominic owns the place. Carter runs its security. The two of them could eat anywhere. What are the odds that they are here, just the two of them, in this diner that has clearly seen better days?
I am tugged to them, a moth drawn inexorably to the flame.
“Hi,” I reply. I suck in a breath. “Can I join you?”
10
Carter
Last night, I told myself that it was impractical for me to want Gabriella.
Now? My resolve goes flying out of the window.
Last night, she’d been temptation and sin, her black dress hugging her curves, her hair cascading down her back in loose waves, her red lips full and pouty and almost impossible to resist.
She’s dressed much more casually today. She’s wearing an oversized-shirt and leggings. Her hair is in a ponytail. If she wore lipstick, it’s long been chewed off.
And it doesn’t matter what she wears, because either way, I can’t take my eyes off her.
My body recognizes her. It’s deeper than desire, more instinctive than memory. The night we were with her, she was sexy, warm, and very memorable. Now, she’s all of that, and more.
Gabriella is staring at the two of us. Belatedly, my brain decides to start functioning again. She asked if she could sit with us. “Of course,” I reply. “Please, join us.”
She slides into the booth across from me, and next to Dominic. “Thanks for the room and the flowers,” she says to him. “You didn’t have to upgrade me.”
He waves away her thanks. “It was nothing.”
Dominic upgraded her? I thought the hotel was full. “What room are you in?”
“The Rose Room,” she replies. “Why?”
Well, what do you know? I’m not the only one who’s being tugged toward her. I look at Dominic, my eyebrow raised. He avoids my gaze and examines the laminated menu. “I wonder what today’s special is.”
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. As long as Dominic’s been eating at the AC Dinner, Wednesday’s special has always been meatloaf. Other places retool their menus every few years, but not Maggie Thompson. Dominic knows damn well what today’s special is; he just doesn’t want to talk about the Rose Room and why he put Gabriella there.
I drop it. “No reason,” I sidestep. “Is this lunch? Or an early dinner?”
“Lunch,” Gabriella replies. “I got caught up in work and lost track of the time.” She wrinkles her nose. “Not that it would kill me to miss a meal. Or three.”
What is she talking about? Her body is fucking perfection. “I’ve seen you naked,” I growl. “You have nothing to worry about.”
Gabriella bites her lower lip, and hot need floods into me once again. Damn it. Shouldn’t have thought about her naked. That was a mistake. My cock stirs in my trousers as the images crash back to the forefront. Gabriella’s beautiful olive skin against the white sheets of the Plaza. Her chestnut brown hair, spread on the pillow. Her plump breasts, firm and round. Her erect nipples, broadcasting her desire. That pretty cunt, those parted legs. The way she’d tasted, like sweetness and sin. The breathy moans, the whispered pleas. Those lips around my cock, sucking, sucking until I was fighting to hold back my climax. The sight of her body, wedged between the two of us.
Fuck me. I’m rock hard thinking of her. In the goddamn diner.
Knock it off, Hughes. She practically ran away from you last night.
Dominic’s feeling it. I’m feeling it. And though Gabriella might deny it until she’s blue in the face, she’s feeling it too. Energy crackles between the three of us. It was like this in that bar in Midtown. There was the same sense of anticipation. The same bated breath, the same threads of desire drawing us nearer…
Maggie bustles over to take our orders before I can make a fool of myself. “You boys ready to order? The usual?”
We both nod. She turns to Gabriella. “What about you, honey?”
Gabriella orders a club sandwich. Once Maggie leaves, Dominic gives her a questioning look. “Can I ask you a question? You implied yesterday that you were a regular at Manhattan’s underg
round poker halls, and ever since then, I’ve been curious. Why?”
“Why do I play?”
He nods.
She bites her lower lip again. “It’s a long and not particularly interesting story.”
“Our food will take at least fifteen minutes to arrive,” I reply. “Dominic and I were discussing predatory loans on the way here. I assure you, whatever you say will be more interesting than that.”
“Are you sure? Predatory loans sound good to me.” Her smile fades. “You’ve already figured out from the Rolex that I grew up rich. My dad played for Arsenal, and he invested his earnings profitably. My mother was an only child who inherited a lot of money from her parents, and she’s also a financial genius. I went to the right schools, hung out in the right circles, and I hated it.”
“Why?”
“Nobody had any expectations of me. I got my first job because of my parents’ connections. I interned at a small advertising agency. One day, I overslept. I’d been out late the previous night, partying with some friends. I didn’t get back home until four in the morning, and the alarm didn’t go off. I got into work at eleven, freaking out and fully prepared for my boss to yell at me.”
“And?”
“She hadn’t even noticed I wasn’t in. I was that superfluous.” Her lips twist. “At the start, the poker was just youthful stupidity. Some of my friends bought Ferraris. I gambled.”
“At the start, you said. What is it now?”
Some unnamed emotion flashes across her face. “I’m saving up to start my own company,” she says. “My salary barely covers my bills. My parents would lend me the money in a heartbeat, but—”
“You want to do it on your own,” Dominic interjects. “As someone who inherited the Grand River, I can relate. How far away are you?”
She takes a sip of her water and avoids looking at either of us. “Another year, probably. Speaking of poker, I talked to Sammy. He’s working on getting me into the game here.”
It feels like a deliberate attempt to change the topic. The mention of Sammy drags my focus back to Noah as well. “Thank you.” I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
The moment I touch her, a shock of electricity runs through me. The crazy chemistry that drew the three of us together seven months ago—it’s there, all there. It’s been lying dormant for months, and now it jolts back to life.
Gabriella inhales sharply. She feels it too. I stare into her deep brown eyes. “If you ever change your mind about dinner…”
She swallows but doesn’t pull her hand away from mine. “Are you asking me out?”
“Yes.” I glance at Dominic. I’m not the only one who wants her. Dominic made his feelings clear when he put Gabriella in the Rose Room. “We are. Tonight?”
“If Sammy comes through, I might be at a game.”
“Mitchell’s games don’t start until ten,” Dominic says. “We could eat before that. I know a great Italian restaurant. The lasagna will make you weep.”
Doubt flickers across her face. “This is a bad idea,” she whispers.
“Is it?”
She turns her attention to me. “My friend Bailey is in a threesome,” she says. “Her personal life has nothing to do with her work, and yet, she almost got fired from her job. People judge her because she’s in a relationship with two men. Daniel and Sebastian both work for themselves, and they’re relatively immune to the consequences of gossip, but they’re still the targets of it.” She jerks her head toward the door leading to the kitchen. “I go back to Manhattan when my gig with Nicky Z ends. But you live here. You have friends, neighbors, co-workers, and employees to think about. The parents of the kids that Noah goes to school with. They will all gossip.”
She’s not saying anything I didn’t think last night. And yes, from a strictly practical standpoint, she’s right. A threesome is an unconventional choice, and anytime someone deviates from the norm, tongues will wag.
But do I really care?
I still can’t pull my hand away. I slept with Gabriella seven months ago, and I haven’t been able to forget her. The scent of her, the feel of her, the way her hair was spread out on the pillow, the sounds of our lovemaking, the moans and the sighs and the soft whispers—these things are indelibly carved into my senses. I’m aware that chemistry isn’t love, but I’ve never felt this strong a connection to anyone.
She’s waiting for me to reply. “Under the circumstances, I think it’s safe to say that my boss isn’t going to fire me for being in a threesome,” I say lightly. “And as much as I like Maggie and Jerome, I really don’t need them to approve of my choices.” I fix my gaze on her. “Will you have dinner with us tonight?”
She pauses for what seems like an eternity, and then she gives me a small nod. “Yes.”
Gabby doesn’t linger over her meal. She gulps down her sandwich and gets her apple pie to go. “What about ice-cream, dear?” Maggie asks. “Don’t you want any?”
“It’ll melt by the time I get to my room,” she says regretfully. “Just the pie, please, and my check.” She turns to us. “Sorry to eat and run,” she says. “I need to talk to my boss before he leaves for the day.”
“Put her on my tab, Maggie.”
“You don’t have to pay for my sandwich,” she protests. “I’m here for work. I was going to expense it.”
“I know I don’t have to,” I reply. “I want to. See you in a few hours?” I glance at my phone. It’s past four. “How about nine for dinner?”
She chews on her lip, considering the question. “What if Sammy gets me in the game tonight?”
“I’ll get takeout from Paesano and we’ll eat at my place. If that’s okay with you, of course.”
There’s a pregnant pause. Gabriella isn’t stupid. A late dinner, a drink or two, and then… Anything could happen after that. The three of us—we all want it, but for one reason or the other, we’re resisting.
Her eyes rest on Dominic. She gives him a contemplative look, and then her lips tilt up in a smile. “Sounds like a plan. See you tonight.”
She leaves with her apple pie. I text my assistant Michelle. Could you have the kitchen send up some ice-cream to the Rose Room?
Once that’s done, I look at Dominic. “You said you wanted to talk?”
He looks tense. “I’ve been soft-peddling around the issue,” he says. “But I think I just need to come out and say it. I’m done supporting this vendetta you have going with Ed.”
11
Carter
I stare at Dominic. I know he doesn’t really approve of my measures to keep Ed away from Noah, but he’s still taken me off-guard. “What do you mean by that?”
“Mitchell came to see me today,” he replies. “He threatened our employees. Again.”
“I’m already on that—”
“Let me finish. He ended our conversation by referencing Ed.” My friend’s expression is troubled. “You bad-mouthed Ed around town and made sure no casino would touch him.”
“He has a record,” I snap. “They wouldn’t have hired him anyway.”
“That’s not true. If you’d put in a word for him, they would have considered him. His arrest isn’t automatically disqualifying.” He takes a sip of his water. “I’m not getting into what-if scenarios with you. You know and I know that you made it difficult for him to find work. You figured that if Ed had to move away from Atlantic City, that he wouldn’t pursue custody of Noah.”
He takes another deep breath. “Lawyers aren’t cheap. You know Ed can’t afford them. So, you keep dragging him to the courts again and again.”
He’s making me sound like an asshole. And maybe I am. “Ed isn’t a good parent. Noah deserves better.”
“Noah is Ed’s son,” he responds flatly. “He lost it when Chloe died. You can’t hold that against him for the rest of his life. Noah deserves better than that.”
I don’t want to hear this. Not now. “Where’s this going, Dominic? You
said you’re done supporting me. What the fuck does that mean? Are you firing me?”
Hurt flashes across his face. “You think I’d do that?” He leans back in the booth. “You’re my best friend, and you think I’m going to use money to control you?”
I feel like an asshole. I exhale slowly and count to ten, something I should have done before I blurted out my accusation. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he takes a business card out of his wallet and hands it to me. “Renata Causi is a highly respected mediator,” he says. “Megan could not say enough good things about her.” He gives me a steady look. “I can’t make you talk to her. You can stew in your anger for the rest of your life. You can make things difficult for Ed until Noah turns eighteen. But if you really care about your nephew, you’ll stop dwelling on the way you feel, and start thinking about him.”
Goddamn it. The last thing I need is to feel guilty. I know Noah’s better off with me. I don’t understand why Dominic can’t see it too.
I shouldn’t have asked Dominic if he was going to fire me. That’s not fair. He might not approve of how I’m dealing with Wagner, but ever since Ed walked out of his son’s life, Dominic has been nothing but supportive. When Noah’s daycare shut down last year for a month, I worked from home. When Noah’s been sick, or when Andrea, the woman who watches Noah in the evening can’t make it in, I’ve taken time off, and it has never once been a problem.
Dominic’s shown up for every court hearing. He’s changed almost as many diapers as I have. Guilt trickles through me. This thing with Mitchell is escalating, and I haven’t been paying as much attention as I should. Under the circumstances, Dominic would be perfectly justified in asking me why the hell I’m not doing my job. I’m the Director of Security. The buck should stop with me.
I tuck the business card into my wallet. “I’ll think about it.”
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