“Okay.” It’s confession time. “I may have been inspired by you and Bailey, and done something stupid.”
“Wait a second,” Wendy leans forward, her mouth open. “You jumped on the ménage wagon?”
“I didn’t go all the way.” God, that sounds lame, not to mention I’m bending the truth a little. I’ve decided that in a ménage, going all the way is anal sex. That’s my position and I’m sticking to it.
“Who with?” Miki, who’s also Skyping in, looks absolutely fascinated. “Anyone we know?”
Oh God, can this be any more embarrassing? Bailey, who knows who the guilty parties are, grins in her corner, but lets me flounder. “Sort of,” I whisper, mortified. “It’s Wyatt and Owen.”
Gabby bursts out laughing. Bailey’s grin widens into a smirk, and Miki chuckles. Damn it. I try to change the subject by asking Gabby about her new relationship, but she doesn’t let me off the hook. “No, no,” she says. “I move to Atlantic City and all of a sudden, you’re getting crazy and adventurous? How did this happen?”
“I am being crazy, aren’t I?” I wince as I sip at my drink. “What was I thinking?”
Miki frowns in puzzlement. “Why are you crazy? Because you were in a threesome? Two of your best friends are in ménage relationships. You’re not going to get a lot of judgment in this room over that.”
“Not in this room. But my parents will absolutely lose their minds.”
Wendy makes a face. “It seems to me, Piper,” she says, “that your parents disapprove of everything you do anyway. So they’ll have another thing to add to the list. So what?”
That’s true. My mother wants me to move back home, get married, and launch into the business of being a society wife. She’ll go ballistic if she finds out about Wyatt and Owen, but it’s not as if I’m basking in the glow of parental approval right now.
I still quail at the thought of telling them.
“The timing isn’t great.” I lift my chin up. “The first Can You Take The Heat? round is this week. Shouldn’t that be my focus?”
Bailey speaks up. “Life isn’t perfect, Piper,” she says gently. “It isn’t a to-do list where you check off one item, then move on to another. I was really busy when I met Daniel and Sebastian. You just make it work.”
“That’s the way I’ve always lived my life,” I reply.
“And have you been happy?” Bailey asks pointedly.
For the last six years, I’ve been alone. I can’t lie; it’s been tough. I think back to the way Wyatt and Owen insisted on accompanying me to the accountant this morning, the way they’d calmed me down when I was almost overwhelmed with nerves. “It’s nice to have someone to share stuff with,” I admit.
Katie gets up to refill our glasses and empty a fresh packet of potato chips into the bowl in the center. Jasper, who thinks he’s getting fed every time someone goes into the kitchen, looks up hopefully and goes back to sleep when he realizes that fish isn’t on offer.
“Talking about the contest,” she says, “we’re all coming to dinner to Piper’s on Thursday. Adam and I, Bailey, Sebastian, Daniel and Wendy. I made reservations yesterday.”
“You are?” I grin delightedly at Katie, warmed by the gesture of support. “All of you? Including Sebastian Ardalan? I don’t know if I’m thrilled or intimidated.”
“Be thrilled,” Bailey advises. “Sebastian is just a guy, though admittedly, a very hot one.” Her smile turns fond. “If you see him bumping into furniture in the morning because he hasn't had a cup of coffee, you’ll never be intimidated by him again.”
Katie chuckles. “Adam’s the same way. He’s completely helpless in the morning. Incidentally,” she turns to me, “the woman who took my details was a bit of a hot mess.”
“Kimmie,” I groan. “I know. We’re trying to hire someone to act as hostess, but it’s been difficult. I can’t afford to pay very much, and Owen and Wyatt are being very particular. It’s insane. We have someone filling in this weekend, but we need a long-term solution.”
“You’ll figure it out.” Wendy’s voice is confident. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Piper.”
My thoughts return to last night, and I decide to confide my worries in my friends. “There’s something else.” My cheeks heat and I keep my gaze fixed on my drink. “Wyatt and Owen asked me out again.”
Gabby punches her fist in the air in celebration. “That’s awesome. You do like them, don’t you?”
“I do, but I don’t have a lot of experience, and I’m afraid they’re going to get bored of me. They probably think I’m a prude.”
“You’re definitely not a prude,” Bailey says, her voice emphatic. “Like Miki said, two of your friends are in ménage relationships, and you’ve been nothing other than supportive.”
Gabby shrugs. “So fix it.” she suggests, her voice unconcerned. “If they think you’re uptight, do something that will prove them wrong.”
Hmm. That makes sense. The beginnings of an idea start to form in my mind, and I can’t hold back my smile. I’m going to give Owen and Wyatt one heck of a surprise.
31
Owen
All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.
Sun Tzu, The Art of War
Seamus Cassidy had ordered the hit on my family to make us an example of what happened when people opposed the mob. I still had a death sentence on my head, but my troubles paled in significance when compared to my uncle.
After the murder of my parents and my sister, Patrick Sarsfield had gone to the cops in Dublin and he’d told them everything he knew. He named names. He provided details of crimes, and more importantly, he had evidence that could be used to jail the ringleaders for life. Almost ill with grief at his failure to keep his sister’s family safe, he walked into the line of fire.
In return for our troubles, the police had put us in witness protection. For me, they arranged for a foster family in New York. A cop called Eduardo Mendez and his wife, Nina would take care of me until my eighteenth birthday.
For Patrick Sarsfield, they needed to do more. My uncle’s testimony was responsible for convicting six of the Westies’ most senior leaders. His life was in acute danger. In order to protect him, the two of us were separated and we were ordered never to communicate with each other.
I’ve obeyed that order for seventeen years. For seventeen years, Mendez, the man who was supposed to protect me has used me as a pawn in his schemes. In the years when we don’t talk, my life flourishes. Whenever he re-enters my life, he sucks me in, and my hard-won peace of mind disappears.
I want Piper to win Can You Take The Heat?. I want more nights with her. This morning, when Wyatt had asked me if I was ready to walk away, I’d almost said yes.
First, I need to know the truth.
It’s three in the morning. In Dublin, it’s eight, and the day has just started. And the woman I need to talk to, Aisling Rahilly, would have arrived at work, a large cup of coffee in her hands.
I dial her number. It’s time to find out where my uncle is. Who better to ask than the woman responsible for his disappearance?
The phone rings once, twice, a third time. Fear skitters down my spine. If Seamus Cassidy is out of jail, then none of the people responsible for putting him there are safe. Not my uncle, not Aisling Rahilly, not me.
I’m about to disconnect the line when she picks up. “Constable Rahilly.”
I exhale in relief. Aisling Rahilly was kind to me during a very difficult time in my life. She’d comforted me as I’d mourned my family. She’d arranged for a way to keep me safe, and she’d done her best to find me a better life.
“It’s Owen Lamb.”
It takes a few minutes for her to recognize my name, then she gasps. “What’s happened?”
The rules are designed for ou
r protection. I’m never supposed to contact Aisling Rahilly. “Is Seamus Cassidy still in jail?”
No one will talk about the Westies. Their trials were behind closed doors. Their sentencing was shrouded in secrecy. Their locations, once they were jailed, was unknown, never revealed to the public.
Just as I feared, her reply is not helpful. “I don’t know.”
My uncle will be able to answer my question. For Patrick Sarsfield, this isn’t a matter of idle curiosity. It’s a matter of life and death. “Then I need to reach Patrick.”
She inhales sharply. “That’s a foolish request.”
“It’s not a request.” My voice is hard. “For seventeen years, I’ve done as I’ve been told. Now I hear that Cassidy might be free, that he might be in New York. I have to know the truth.”
Several moments elapse before she replies. When she breaks the silence, she reels off a phone number. “I hope this isn’t a mistake,” she adds quietly.
I close my eyes in relief. If Constable Rahilly had refused to help, I wouldn’t have known what to do next. “Thank you.”
She clears her throat. “Are you well, Owen?” she asks, a tremble in her voice. “We sent you away from your home when you were just a child. Did we do the right thing? Has life been kind to you?”
I reflect on her words. My friendship with Wyatt has enriched my life and our partnership has made both of us wealthy. And there’s Piper. In her arms, the ghosts are silenced, the past a distant memory.
What would have happened if I’d stayed in Dublin? I’d been heartbroken and angry; reckless in a way only a sixteen year old could be. I’d craved revenge. I would have died before my seventeenth birthday.
I swallow a lump in my throat. At the time, I’d been angry about being sent away, but I realize now that Aisling Rahilly gave me a precious gift. She’d given me a second chance. “Life has been more than kind.”
Once I hang up, I stare at the phone number I’ve scribbled down for a long time. I can’t shake off my premonition of doom. The world I’ve so carefully built will come crumbling down if I dial that number.
You have to know if Cassidy is in New York, I reason with myself.
I punch in the digits and make the call. There’s no turning back now.
32
Piper
Do not swallow bait offered by the enemy.
Sun Tzu, The Art of War
According to Google, one of New York’s ten best sex stores is located in SoHo, which is only a twenty-minute ride on the C line for me. Tuesday morning, I wake up and head there, anxious to put my plan into action.
A young woman is just opening the store as I walk up. “Hello,” she greets me, smiling in a friendly manner. If she thinks it’s weird that I’m shopping for sex toys at ten in the morning, her expression doesn’t reveal it. “Can I help you find something?”
I’m relieved it’s a woman at the store, not a guy. As it is, I’m mortified. Of course, I can hear my mother’s voice in my head. Well-behaved Southern women don’t shop for sex toys.
I’m getting better at ignoring that voice. “I’m looking for butt plugs,” I lean in and whisper.
“All the way in the back of the store, on the right hand side,” she replies. “Call me if you need help.”
Pigs will fly before I have a discussion about the best kind of butt plug to buy for first time anal sex. Piper Jackson, what are you doing? I ask myself, but I also feel a thrill run through my body. This is uncharacteristic of me, and I like it. I’m tired of being the good girl. Wyatt and Owen have awakened strange desires in me, desires that demand satisfaction.
There is a bewildering array of options. There are butt plugs that vibrate, plugs that can be controlled by remotes, butt plugs with bumps of increasing size, even butt plugs decorated with bushy tails. The tails make me blush. One step at a time, kiddo.
After a few moments of searching, I find what I’m looking for. A set of three plugs, increasing in size. The package promises that it’s perfect for anal beginners. I pick it up, and then my eye falls on a glass butt plug adorned by a sparkling red jewel. Butt plug jewelry. Who knew? Strangely, it’s really pretty. It’s also sixty bucks, but I can’t resist.
I take my purchases to the front, and the young woman rings them up for me. “What about lube?” she asks, her voice matter of fact. “You’re going to need lubricant for those.”
I can barely meet her gaze. “Right,” I mumble. “I forgot.”
“Try this one,” she advises, pointing to a clear plastic bottle in the front. “It’s one of our best sellers.”
“Sure.” I grab the larger size. I’m sure I’m going to need lots of lube. I pay for my bag of smut, and I almost run out of there, back to the safety of my restaurant.
As soon as I walk in the door, my phone rings. It’s my mother. I’m still feeling ashamed at the way I automatically assumed the worst of my parents in yesterday’s accountant episode, so I pick up the phone. “Hello mother.”
“Piper, what a surprise. I thought I’d have to leave another message on your voicemail.”
“I spoke to you on Saturday,” I defend myself mildly. “What’s up?”
“I hear you’re going to be on TV. I’m quite hurt you haven’t told me, Piper.”
I wince. Damn it, she really does sound upset. I’ve been avoiding talking about the restaurant on the general principle that the fewer details my parents know, the less they can interfere. Still, I should have known I couldn’t keep Can You Take The Heat? a secret.
“Sorry, mother.” I apologize out of habit. “I submitted my application late, and I wasn’t sure if I’d get selected. It’s only in the last week that I found out I was in.”
“Tell me all the details, dear,” she urges. “When does the contest start, and how long does it run?”
I sigh inwardly. “The first round is on Thursday,” I reply. “There are sixteen restaurants participating, and it runs for four weeks. Each round, half the restaurants are eliminated, I think. They’ve been quite vague about the format.”
“Well, your father and I were thrilled when we heard the news.”
“You were?” I don’t think my mother’s been thrilled at anything I’ve done in the last six years. Did aliens abduct my mother and replace her with a kinder clone?
“Of course we were, honey. We ran into Merritt Grant yesterday at the club, and he said you’re doing quite well.”
My mother sounds almost proud of me. I wonder if I’ve misjudged her all along. “Thank you, mom. Things are getting better. Wyatt and Owen have been a great help.”
“Yes, your new partners. You haven’t told me very much about them, Piper.”
I swallow. I’m not ready to talk to my mother about Owen and Wyatt yet. “They’re legendary in the restaurant business,” I tell her. “I’m very lucky they want to work with me.”
“How did you connect with them?”
“My roommate Bailey recommended me to a chef friend of hers,” I say vaguely. “One thing led to another.”
“That’s great, dear. Of course, your father and I are coming up to watch you. We’ll be there on Thursday.”
A sense of unease washes over me. “You’re coming to New York?”
“You didn’t think we’d miss your contest, did you?” she asks with a fond chuckle. “Save us a spot at your restaurant, dear. We’re quite excited to taste your food.”
My parents have never once eaten my cooking, never once taken an interest in my restaurant. I’m not sure what caused their change of heart, and I don’t really trust it.
33
Wyatt
Know thy self, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories.
Sun Tzu, The Art of War
Before I know it, Thursday is here.
“You look nervous,” Owen says as the two of us make our way to Hell’s Kitchen. It’s a warm sunny afternoon, and we’ve elected to walk.
“I am.” My voice is clipped. Owen gives me a curious look
, and I elaborate. “I’m worried about Maisie.”
“Maisie? Why?”
“She’s an ex-girlfriend. What if she’s jealous of Piper?”
Owen shakes his head. “I don’t think so,” he says confidently. “I know Maisie too, remember? She’s far too professional for such emotions. This contest is a major coup for her. She’s got a TV crew to film this show. She’s on the front page of Yelp. She’s not going to fuck that up. Besides, I didn’t think you parted on bad terms.”
“We didn’t.”
Owen rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry,” he says dryly. “Maisie is not going to cause problems. I wish I could say the same thing about Piper’s parents.”
I sigh. It had taken all the willpower I possessed to keep quiet when Piper had told us her parents were coming into town. But she’d sounded so happy that they were finally being supportive, and I didn’t have the heart to shatter her illusions. If the three of us have one thing in common, it’s that we have massive blind spots when it comes to our families.
We arrive at Piper’s. The windows are freshly washed, and flower boxes overflowing with pansies and asters decorate the front. The two of us gaze on it silently for a few seconds.
Less than two months ago, this place was a dump serving indifferent Middle Eastern food. Now, the restaurant is warm and welcoming, and the food is staggeringly good.
It’s quiet inside. It’s two-thirty in the afternoon, too late for the lunch crowd, too early for dinner. “What time does the TV crew get here?” Owen asks as we head to the back.
“Four,” I reply, pushing open the swing doors to the kitchen. “Hey,” I greet Piper with a smile. We’ve exchanged texts and talked on the phone, but I haven’t seen her since Monday, and I’ve missed her. “Ready for tonight?”
Ménage in Manhattan: The Complete 5-Book Ménage Romance Collection Page 54
