by Kitty Thomas
“Don't worry,” he whispers. “I didn't do anything inappropriate. Griffin and Soren wouldn't have allowed it.”
Lillian catches the last moment of my discomfort and thankfully misreads it. “Is the food okay?”
I smile at her through a bite of pancakes. “Yes, Lillian, it's delicious.” I almost called her Mrs. Kingston, but remembered from the party last night—before the alcohol started flowing—that she wants me to call her Lillian.
I didn't even realize Griffin and Dayne stayed overnight, but Soren's parents don't seem to be weirded out by this breakfast set-up.
As if in answer to my silent question, Lillian says, “Griffin and Dayne have had New Year's Day breakfast with us for . . . gosh, close to twenty years now. It's hard to believe it's been that long.”
“Since college,” Soren says.
His mother sits on his other side. “I'm so glad you're settling down and with such a nice girl,” she says. patting him on the arm.
I don't know how Lillian knows I'm a nice girl, but Soren doesn't contradict her. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't think I was such a nice girl if she knew the real relationship with Soren and his best friends.
It occurs to me suddenly that if this has turned into such a big tradition, that probably means we're all going to continue to have New Year's Day breakfast together even after the wedding. I'm not sure if I'm that good of an actress. Once we've all been intimate together will I be able to act as though Dayne and Griffin are just Soren's friends and nothing more?
I realize suddenly that Dayne's hand is still on my knee. I reach under the table and pinch him. Hard. He pulls back, giving me a wounded puppy look. Given my experience with actual wounded puppies, this doesn't faze me.
After breakfast I learn that actually the New Year's tradition is for Soren, Griffin, Dayne, and now me, to stay the entire day. There's traditional New Year's Day fare including black-eyed peas and ham planned for later this evening. It seems that Soren tried to get out of it this year—maybe for fear his parents might detect a vibe with me and the other guys.
But Lillian basically just kept giving us all alcohol last night until we were too tired and sloshed to drive, and now we're in it for the duration. Soren has surrendered.
The men watch football for most of the day, and Lillian brings me a giant armload of bridal magazines and wedding planning books she must have bought the second Soren told her he was getting married. I feel kind of bad. She doesn't have a daughter to do all this with.
I can't believe I was so worried about meeting Soren's parents. They seem so... normal. Despite the very fancy house, they don't act like snobs. They haven't treated me like I'm not good enough for their son—quite the opposite, in fact. And Lillian doesn't seem even remotely like the mother-in-law horror stories I've heard.
“I hope you don't mind,” she says as she lays all the books and magazines down on the coffee table, “I'm just excited. I thought I'd never get to go to Soren's wedding. I was sure he'd stay a bachelor forever. He seemed so stubbornly anti-commitment. I don't know what you did to him, but I'm glad you did it.”
“Of course I don't mind,” I say smiling at her.
We're sitting together on a sofa in front of a fireplace in a large but somehow still cozy living room. It's several doors down from the game room with the big screen TV, but we can still hear the men shouting at the players.
The snow continues to fall lightly outside, and we drink cocoa as we look through the bridal magazines and wedding books. It's really only just now fully processing through my brain that there's going to be an actual wedding. Like a nice wedding—the kind of wedding every little girl dreams of.
This is the first real opportunity I've had to sit and look at wedding books and bridal magazines. I've been afraid to. I'm afraid to get sucked into this fantasy, to start believing in it. How can I believe in it? How can this possibly work? No princess in fairy tale history ever ended up with three princes. I'm pretty sure the happily-ever-after universe won't allow it.
For the rest of the day until dinner we circle cakes with sharpie markers and dog ear wedding dresses. We discuss colors and flowers and venues and music. And day or nighttime wedding? Lillian thinks nighttime weddings are so elegant, and I agree. It's all theoretical, all just fantasizing and imagining. Nothing is planned or set in stone yet. But can't I just let myself have the dream wedding at least? I know Soren will let me have it. Money is no object to him and after the ring he bought, there's no question he intends to let me have a beautiful fairy tale wedding to go with it.
Yet despite all his charm and all he's giving me, I've seen the dark edges, the shadow underneath the surface. And with his threat... I know I'm marrying the villain, not the prince.
14
Livia
The Rehearsal Dinner
Present-ish.
“Oh my God, Livia. Griffin is so freaking hot. Do you know if he's dating anyone?”
I resist the overwhelming urge to say “Me.” That wouldn't go over very well. Macy, as the maid of honor, will be escorted down the aisle by Griffin, the best man. My cousin Cheryl is walking down with Dayne. Despite having such a large, elaborate wedding we're only having two adult attendants each.
The wedding planner, Patrice, nearly lost her mind over this issue. Apparently this just isn't done. She thinks it looks weird. With such a big historic church and such a nice reception and two hundred and fifty guests it's just odd, she says. She thinks we should have five attendants each. She's said about fifty times now that having only two each makes it look as though we are homeless vagrants without friends.
In fact, she's sure vagrants have more friends than that and could probably come up with more than two people each to stand up with them. She's offered to hire people to be part of the wedding party if we really are this hard-up for friendship.
But Soren was firm on this. He doesn't want anyone but Griffin and Dayne standing up there with him. And to be honest, I couldn't think of anyone I really wanted in the wedding except Macy. My cousin Cheryl was to just have someone to walk with Dayne so it wouldn't look even weirder.
Patrice's head might explode if Macy were to be escorted down the aisle by both Griffin and Dayne.
Vivie, who has just turned three, is the flower girl. She looks enough like me that someone on the groom's side thought she was my daughter. During the rehearsal, she tried to carefully place each rose petal on the aisle as she walked down instead of just tossing them. I thought it was cute, but Patrice decided she needed to show my niece how to do this right. The wedding planner and I almost came to blows when Vivie nearly broke into tears thinking she was messing up my wedding. I'm so glad I'll be rid of this she-beast after tomorrow.
From the looks of things, Soren is pretty much over Patrice too, if the death glare he shot in her direction after she upset my niece is any indication. I find a small bit of comfort in this protective gesture toward Vivie. It gives me hope that I'm not giving myself to a complete monster.
“Well?” Macy says.
“Well, what?” I ask. We just finished the rehearsal and we're at a steakhouse Soren booked for the dinner. It's just the wedding party and our families in the whole place.
“Is Griffin seeing anybody?”
Before I can answer, the devil appears.
“Soren asked me to come get you,” Griffin says, taking my hand and pulling me out of my chair before I can protest.
Macy looks up at him dreamily, and he winks at her. Those electric blue eyes of his should be illegal. I feel the slightest tinge of jealousy at his minor flirting. I mean, I get it, he can't make it look like he's into me. And it's practically tradition for the best man and the maid of honor to hook up at some point during the festivities. But he wouldn't... would he?
I follow Griffin outside. He grips my hand tightly and takes me a couple of blocks down, slipping into an empty alley. As soon as we're out of sight, he pushes me against the brick wall and starts kissing me, his hands crawling all ove
r me, trying to find secret entrances under my clothing.
His hot tongue entwining with mine sends an electric current shooting through my body as I press myself harder against him and his questing hands.
I pull away from his mouth, breathless. “What about Soren? I thought you said...” but of course it was a ruse. He's not taking me to Soren. He's having a stolen moment. There's a battle between Griffin and Soren. I can sense it. Soren may be the one in charge, but Griffin pushes at the boundaries every chance he gets.
“Fuck Soren,” he growls into my mouth, hiking my skirt up, his hand slipping between my thighs. I groan as my wetness coats his fingers.
A throat clears, and we look over. I'm terrified we've been caught by a family member, but it's only Soren. He stands a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Fuck Soren,” Soren says calmly. “I'm fairly certain I need to be present for that to happen. And lucky for you, here I am.”
Dayne steps out from behind him, and it appears the gang's all here. Dayne and Soren stride into the alley, and then the three of them are taking turns ravishing my mouth, grabbing at me through and under my clothes, pinning my wrists over my head. A part of me is afraid they're going to take me right here and now against the brick wall.
Before it can go that far Soren—with the self-control of a saint—releases my wrists, steps away, and says, “Stop.”
“Goddammit,” Griffin says. “We could make her come. Or she could make us come. A hand job or blow jobs...” He's actually trying to negotiate orgasms right now.
Soren grabs Griffin by his shirt collar and pulls him off me.
“I said... wedding night,” he growls.
He has gotten so intense about this issue. When I'd originally said I didn't plan on having sex again until I was engaged, he'd been upset, now it's like he's trying to outdo me in traditional fuck-etiquette.
Part of me wants to do this right now—the anticipation is killing me—but another part of me is grateful for the 24-hour reprieve—one more day I can maintain my ménage innocence.
I'm still terrified of how this will go down with three men. And I know Soren is doing this to punish me... for what? Dating all three of them? I don't even know anymore what I'm being punished for, but it does feel as though I'm being punished. He doesn't want to slowly build my comfort. In fact, this is the most heated things have gotten with the three of us so far. And we've definitely never all been together even like this.
“Fine, but you're not pulling this shit after tomorrow,” Griffin says. He is fuming, and I worry how it will look if he goes back to the restaurant so pissed off.
I put my hand on his arm, and his face softens when he looks down at me. Dayne just watches this whole exchange, taking it in, no doubt making notes in his head—for what purpose I'm not sure.
Dayne is the most nonchalant about the whole thing. It's not that he doesn't want me, the passion of his kisses tells me he does. In fact, a part of me is wildly curious about Dayne. That night in the penthouse I got the tiniest hint of how much restraint he holds behind his usually calm exterior.
Dayne is the kind of man who calmly thinks things through. Griffin is the impulsive one who goes with whatever he feels. Soren... ruthlessly calculates.
Soren approaches me, and I flinch. He's never physically harmed me, but sometimes I act like a battered woman around him. I can't help it. There's darkness in him, and I'm not sure if I can ever be safe from it. I'm not sure if the beast that lives inside him will be turned on me—and in some ways it already has been. I can't forgive him for the threat, for taking away my choices. We haven't talked about it since that night. It's like the words were never spoken, but we both know they were.
I tried to tell myself that threat was decided on by the three of them together, that it was a shared sin, but it isn't. I can't lie to myself anymore to spread out the blame and soften it. I know Soren made the decision. Soren chose to take my choices away, to turn me into his slave, his captive, instead of his willing wife.
It doesn't matter how much my body begs to be filled with his. It doesn't matter how attracted I am to him. He's still the man who decided he would own me and I would comply, and that combined with the way he looks at me right now, yes, I flinch, yes I shrink away, because this man scares me even while he lights me up inside.
But he only smooths my hair down and runs his thumb under my lower lip where my pale pink lip gloss has smudged against my skin. He straightens my dress and my bra straps which have managed to slide down my shoulders in this exchange.
“We'll go in to the restaurant together. You two will follow after five minutes,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine.
He moves another step back and extends his hand to me. I take it without looking at either Griffin or Dayne.
When we get back to the restaurant the food is being served. It's Salisbury steak covered in brown gravy with mashed potatoes, green beans, and some of the best dinner rolls I've ever had. It's just about the most non-pretentious meal I could think of, and the steakhouse was happy to provide it for us. Plus it reminds me of my first date on the riverboat with Griffin. There's a chicken finger option for some of the kids who didn't like Salisbury steak. And everyone gets a slice of a fluffy chocolate silk pie.
I sit with Macy on one side of me and Soren on the other. Well actually, Macy is seated two seats from me on my left. There's an empty seat between us for Griffin.
I think this looks weird. Macy should be sitting next to me with Griffin on the other side of her, but Patrice did the seating chart. Does she know all four of us are together? I hate the idea of that woman knowing what's really going on here.
A mutual friend of mine and Macy's is seated on her other side, so maybe it doesn't look too weird. Maybe Patrice doesn't know and it just seemed like a logical seating choice to her. Maybe I'm being paranoid.
Macy takes one look at me and her freckled cheeks turn a bright shade of pink. She quickly glances away from Soren when he greets her and lets out a mumbled, “Hi”.
Once Soren is seated and talking to someone else, she turns to me and whispers. “Oh my God, did you two just have sex?”
Great. Is it that obvious something just happened? Before I can come up with some sort of answer, Dayne and Griffin appear in the doorway. Dayne sits next to Soren, with Cheryl on his other side and Griffin comes to sit beside Macy... and me. His fingertips trail lightly across my shoulders as he passes me, and I shiver.
15
Griffin
The Rehearsal Dinner
Present-ish.
My fingertips skim over Livia's back as I pass her. I swear I can feel the goosebumps that pop up in response to my touch. I want to fuck her so badly I can barely breathe, but instead, I sit down between her and the maid of honor.
I insisted to Patrice that she needed to do the seating this way. I told her that the girl now sitting on Macy's other side doesn't know anybody at the wedding but her and Livia and that it would be nice if she could sit next to someone she knows at the rehearsal dinner. I'm not sure if that girl knows anyone else here or not. I do know she's not family so she must be pretty good friends with Livia and Macy to be at the rehearsal.
I smile at the Salisbury steak placed in front of me. Food from our first date. I wonder if Livia thought of me when she chose this.
I glance down at my watch. By my estimation of how long the wedding and reception will take, it's almost twenty-four hours exactly until my mouth can be buried in Livia's cunt. Until my cock can take a ride. Until her mouth can be on my dick. Until I can watch Soren and Dayne fuck the shit out of her. Until we can pass her back and forth like our own private whore.
Twenty-four hours and she is ours.
I turn to find Macy smiling at me and then looking shyly away. She's a cute little thing. Dark auburn red hair against fair skin and freckles, green eyes so light and pale they rival rare gemstones, and dark-rimmed glasses that make her look like a hot librarian. In another life
time I most certainly would fuck her, and I know from the way she looks away that she's hoping we hook up tonight or tomorrow night after the reception.
I wonder if Livia knows her best friend wants to fuck me, not that it matters. It isn't as if her friend is trying to steal her man. How could she know that everyone who'll be standing at the front of the church tomorrow in a tuxedo are all Livia's men? We even have this bizarre ritual worked out with the ring. Dayne will be holding it. He'll pass it to me, I'll pass it to Soren, and Soren will put it on her finger.
“Is your girlfriend coming to the wedding?” Macy asks.
It's obvious she's fishing, but she's so sweet about it that I almost don't mind.
I hesitate a moment before answering. After all Livia will be at the wedding, but she's not exactly my girlfriend. “She's out of town,” I say.
Her face falls, but what could I do? Give her hope that something could happen? Do I want her trying to dance with me while I'm trying to dance with Livia at the reception?
I'm relieved when Macy turns and starts a conversation with her other friend. I turn my attention to Livia. She's strung tight like a bow string. I slip my hand underneath the table between her legs, but Soren is already touching her. My eyes meet his over the top of her head.
Livia is doing her very best to seem unfazed, slowly chewing and swallowing each bite of her dinner. She jerks in her chair, her eyes going wide when she realizes both Soren and I are fingering her together under the table.
I lean in close and whisper in her ear. “Maybe you should have worn jeans.”
I plan to keep an eye on Soren until tomorrow night. Isn't this violating his “not until the wedding night” edict? This is the first time our fingers have been inside her pussy, finger fucking her. Ever.
“Please, Griffin,” she whispers. She knows it's useless to appeal to Soren.
