Double Dare: A Menage Romance

by Marie Carnay

  Chelsea raised an eyebrow. “How vivid are we talking?”

  “Technicolor magic, baby. I’ve had weeks to daydream about all the orgasms you’ve been having.”

  “If you weren’t recovering from near-death, you’d get a pillow in the face right now.”

  Liz smiled so wide, she winced. “What can I say, it’s a perk of getting T-boned in rush hour.”

  “You’re terrible.”

  “I try. Now spill it.”

  “There’s nothing really to say. I had a good time, did things I shouldn’t have. But it’s over. I’m never seeing either Kingston brother again.”

  Liz reached for the remote to control her pain medication. “I’m sorry, I must have this on too high. I swear you said it’s over.”

  Chelsea picked up the bowl of green Jell-O on Liz’s tray and the spoon. “Are you gonna eat this? Because if not…” She took a huge bite.

  “Stop stalling. Swallow that poison and tell me what happened.”

  Reluctantly, Chelsea put down the spoon and spilled all the details. Everything from kissing Bronx on the sandy beach to the pottery wheel and Beckett’s amazing studio. Even the lies. When she finished, Liz leaned back on the pillows.

  “Wow. And I thought I was an idiot.”

  Okay. Not the reaction she’d expected. “What does that mean?”

  “You have two billionaires who are head over heels in love with you and want to make your dreams come true. And you walked away!”

  Chelsea snorted. “First, they aren’t billionaires. They’re too normal.”

  “Have you seen their bank accounts? Those two are billionaires, babe. I should know. I handled the wire transfer for the bidding.”

  Chelsea’s mouth fell open. “You what?”

  “Bronx came up to me after you two talked and we discussed all the options for the Sarabelle trip. We decided bidding for it made the most sense.”

  Nononononono. “You knew they owned it? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Liz scrunched up her nose. “No getting mad at the almost-dead best friend, remember?”

  Chelsea crossed her arms. “Fine.”

  “I didn’t think they’d lie about it. Honest.” Chelsea tried to interrupt, but Liz held up her hand. “And, I thought they’d tell you as soon as you got there. But what does it matter? I heard you gush about Beckett and then Bronx oohed and aahed over you and it was obvious.”

  “What?”

  “That the three of you were perfect together. Had I known about the art studio… Chelsea, you’re never going to find even one guy who suits you half as well as those two.”

  “They lied.”

  “So? They were embarrassed. Who buys their own island because some pretty girl mentioned it in passing?” Liz pointed a bruised finger at her. “Crazy people, that’s who. If they’d told you, would you have still gone on the trip?”

  Chelsea picked at a nail. “No.”

  “There you go.”

  “It was wrong.”

  For a woman recovering from a near-death experience, Liz sure looked pleased with herself. “It worked.”

  “I can’t believe you.” Chelsea rolled her eyes and looked out the window to the gray, cloudless sky. Even her best friend had been in on it, but she’d done it for the right reasons.

  Chelsea sighed and turned back to Liz. “I feel used.”

  “Don’t. You got an amazing vacation. Met two spectacular men. Reignited your love of sculpting. And came back here in time to tell the doctors where to shove it. I’d call all of that a win.”

  “Then why do I feel so empty inside?”

  “Because you don’t have Bronx and Beckett to go home to.”

  Chelsea thought about everything they had shared over the month. All the secrets each of them had confessed in the dark. The spark of passion every time they touched. “I don’t know how it would work, Liz. I live here. Beckett lives there. Bronx… I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “It starts with forgiveness.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not just about me. They… fight. A lot. I’m not sure they can forgive each other.”

  “You won’t know if you don’t try.”

  Chelsea frowned. One last thing nagged at her. “They never said they love me.”

  “Do you love them?”

  She inhaled. Did she? When she stripped away the hurt and anger, the lust and need, what was left? She smiled. “Yes.”

  “Then you owe it to yourself to find out if it can work. If the MacIntoshes can do it, then you and the Kingston brothers can too.”

  Part of her wanted so badly to believe Liz. But how could she?

  When she’d walked back to the studio, she’d heard Bronx and Beckett arguing and it hadn’t been the first time. They admitted their relationship was strained.

  She wasn’t the only one going into the trip knowing it wasn’t forever. Bronx and Beckett had too. Would they be willing to get past their own differences for her? Could they?

  The closest to a sibling bond Chelsea had ever had was her friendship with Liz. She couldn’t imagine fighting with her. She glanced up. “Say I’d come home still believing they only bought the vacation and didn’t own Sarabelle. Would you have told me the truth?”

  “In a heartbeat! I would never keep a secret like that from you. I only held off because Bronx acted like telling you was a given.”

  Liz folded her hands in her lap. “I know you don’t like being lied to, but it wasn’t to be mean. I’m telling you, even from the first moment they met you, they were smitten. You shouldn’t walk away from that kind of connection because of this.”

  Chelsea wasn’t sure. Bronx and Beckett lived a lifestyle a million times different from hers. Did she even want to go down that road?

  Liz cut through her questions. “What was it like to sculpt again?”

  Chelsea grinned. “Amazing.”

  “Could you see yourself happy doing it full-time?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You know it doesn’t pay the rent.”

  “Would it matter on Sarabelle?”

  Chelsea’s smile slipped. “Beckett doesn’t even have the studio open. It’ll probably never happen now, not after the way he fought with his brother.”

  Liz refused to drop it. “If it did open, would you be happy there?”

  She didn’t have to search her heart for the answer. Chelsea already knew. “Yes.”

  “Then don’t give up. Not yet.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  BRONX

  When did vodka become so bland?

  Bronx threw back the rest of his drink and set the empty glass on the coffee table. Three weeks on Sarabelle with Chelsea and now the city he’d loved had nothing to offer. He pushed off the leather couch and stalked to the window.

  The afternoon sun lit up Central Park and picnickers dotted the grass, blankets laid out like patches on a threadbare rug. Rewind a month and the sight would have lifted Bronx’s spirits. All those people, carrying on their lives around him. It used to be enough.

  Not anymore.

  His investments didn’t even hold the same appeal. Who cared about a million-dollar profit when he had no one to share it with?

  The same day Chelsea left Sarabelle, Bronx had come home. He’d hoped with some time, she’d understand. But it had been two weeks. He’d tracked her down through her office and called her work line, her home, her cell. Nothing.

  She wouldn’t take his calls. He’d contemplated hunting her down in person. Pinning her to the wall of her office and kissing her until she gave in. But then what? He’d ruined any chance with her that last day on the island.

  And Beckett? Shit.

  Bronx scrubbed a hand down his face. They weren’t exactly on speaking terms anymore.

  No, despite the feelings they both had for Chelsea, nothing would bridge that chasm. Bronx was on his own.

  He closed his eyes and tried to regroup. Maybe a walk in the city would help. Something to remind him of t
he life he used to have—the one with enough purpose to satisfy him.

  Ten minutes later, Bronx strolled the sidewalks of the city, past the apartment buildings and hotels flanking Central Park. Without thinking, he’d ended up standing outside the MacIntosh Hotel.

  All the gilding and lights in the world couldn’t improve his mood. He turned to walk away when a voice called out. “Bronx? Bronx Kingston?”

  He turned with a frown. Holt MacIntosh bounded up to him, hair falling in his face and sweat soaking through his T-shirt. He held out his hand. “It is you! Good to see you man. It’s been a while.”

  Bronx shook his hand and tried to smile. “Sorry I missed you at the auction last month. I hope Gage conveyed my well wishes.”

  “He did. I’m surprised to see you here. Aren’t you supposed to be living it up in paradise right now?”

  Shit. Bronx had hoped to avoid this conversation. “It didn’t work out.”

  “Why not? The way Gage talked about the three of you, I thought it was a given.”

  “Guess you’re the only New Yorkers who can pull off that sort of thing.”

  “Bullshit.” Holt wiped at his forehead with his shirt. “Do you love her?”

  Bronx shouldn’t be telling Holt anything about his personal life. But if anyone would understand… “Yes.”

  “Then go after her. Tell her how you feel.”

  “She doesn’t want to hear it.”

  “Then you aren’t working hard enough.”

  “I’ve called a bunch of times, and—”

  Holt cut him off. “That’s not trying. That’s being a pussy. You and Beckett are Kingstons. You’re worth billions. Act like it.”

  Bronx frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Quit being a jackass and think bigger. You’ve got all the world’s resources at your disposal. Use them.”

  “You’re saying think bigger?”

  Holt nodded.

  “I wish it were that easy. Beckett and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms.”

  “Been there, man.” Holt took a sip of his water. “If Gage and I could get over ourselves, you can fix whatever problems you and Beckett have, too. We were colossal assholes, but Jess still took us back.”

  Bronx didn’t know. Fixing the problems he had with Beckett wasn’t as easy as Holt made it out to be.

  “The worst thing that happens is she says no, right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Then don’t just wander around New York feeling sorry for yourself. Go out there and make something happen. You can have all the money in the world, but without someone to share it with, it’s just printed paper.”

  Bronx nodded. He thought about Beckett and how he’d tried to make the same point. Bronx didn’t understand it then, but he was beginning to understand it now. Maybe there was hope for them.

  “Thanks, Holt.”

  “Anytime.” He reached out and shook Bronx’s hand again. “Next time I see you, I hope you’ll be introducing me to this woman who’s turned your life upside down.”

  Bronx laughed for the first time in days. Upside down was an understatement. With a final goodbye, Bronx headed back to his apartment.

  He walked through the lobby, oblivious to the marble floors and front desk staff, and pushed the button for the elevator. The doors opened and he stepped inside as someone else hollered his name.

  I swear, if it’s another MacIntosh, I’m ignoring him.

  “Mr. Kingston, sir! I have a package for you!”

  Bronx held the elevator and the front desk attendant appeared a moment later, huffing and holding out a thick envelope.

  “It came by personal delivery just after you left. The messenger said it was urgent.”

  Bronx took the envelope and smiled. “Thank you.”

  The man stepped back, still winded from chasing him down and the elevator doors slid closed.

  Bronx took a closer look at the package. Stamps all over it, no return address. He ripped it open as the elevator stopped on his floor. He walked into the hall and pulled out a stack of letters.

  His mother’s handwriting caught his eye.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  BECKETT

  Plane rides always gave him jitters. Something about flying over the ocean, with nothing to look at but gleaming water. Not that he didn’t trust his pilot, but Beckett would prefer to be on land.

  He held the little figurine Chelsea had found in the living room up for a closer look. He’d created it just after his mother passed all those years ago. When he was adrift and lost in a sea of grief. Fitting to be holding her now.

  It had been two weeks since first Chelsea and then Bronx had walked out of his life. Never had Sarabelle felt so empty and soulless. It used to be his sanctuary. The one place he could be himself and be alone with his thoughts. The one place he could be happy.

  Now, all those thoughts coalesced into one giant heartache welling up in his chest and digging a deeper hole every day. If only he hadn’t lied from the beginning. If only he hadn’t shut Bronx out all those years ago and tried to bridge the gap between them.

  Everything that happened—falling in love with the same woman and losing her all too soon—it had been his fault. He never should have kept those letters from Bronx. He’d been trying to honor their mother’s wishes, but it had been a mistake.

  He’d let the thoughts of a woman long gone dictate his relationship with his brother. He knew Bronx didn’t understand why their parents had divided the estate. Beckett with the island and Bronx with the investments. It wasn’t because they favored one over the other.

  Their parents saw their passions and wanted to reward them, not drive them apart. If his brother could check his ego, if he could take a step back and see their relationship for the one it could be and not the one it had been… they could find a common ground.

  If they weren’t fighting over the past, they could have a future together, with Chelsea. They just had to find a way past the old scars and fresh wounds. The plane began its descent into New York and Beckett sat taller in the seat.

  He would put this right. He’d go to Bronx, apologize, explain why he’d kept the truth from him all these years and hope for the best.

  BRONX

  He set the last letter on the coffee table and fell back on the sofa. The past five years made so much more sense now.

  Since the minute the lawyer read the will out loud and Bronx found out their parents had divided the estate, Bronx hadn’t been able to make sense of it. He’d assumed it was because they didn’t trust Beckett to run the family business and were giving him the easy way out.

  They’d left all the hard work and pressure to Bronx, running the investments and managing the family business. It was all on his shoulders. That’s how he’d felt.

  But it wasn’t how his parents had intended it at all.

  When they had drawn up the will, Bronx and Beckett were still young—Bronx barely nineteen and Beckett twenty-four. They were different people then.

  Beckett was still trying to find himself, two years after dropping out of art school and no closer to figuring out what made him happy. Teaching surfing in the Caribbean and sculpting on the side.

  And Bronx was studying business in college, eager and excited to continue the work his father started and build the Kingston family fortune into something that rivaled even the MacIntoshes.

  Bronx remembered that year. His father had a health scare—potential cancer diagnosis—and it hit the family hard. Their parents must have felt their mortality. So they’d drawn up the will and their mother had written letters to him and Beckett.

  Deeply personal letters where she laid out her hopes and dreams and fears for her children. Begged them to make the right choices and be there for each other.

  Bronx picked up the last one again. The envelope had read, To Bronx, to be opened upon falling in love.

  He swallowed back a rising wave of emotion and read the last page again.

  M
y hope is that the woman you’ve opened your heart to will complete you. That she will be the sunshine you need when it’s pouring down rain and the blanket that warms you in the chill of the night.

  I hope that you see in her the future you’re meant to have. One filled with happiness and love and children of your own. Every decision your father and I made in this life was shaped by our love for you and Beckett.

  If you’re reading this, it’s because I’m not there to share in this joyous time with you, but know that you have your brother. Family is the most important thing, Bronx. Embrace it and you’ll never be alone.

  Beckett might have his own way of doing things—goodness knows he inherited my traveling spirit—but the two of you are two sides of one coin. You’re Kingston men and together you can accomplish anything.

  Be brave in love as you have been in school and work, Bronx. It takes courage to love and allow yourself to be loved. I hope you rise to the challenge as you’ve risen to the challenge in business and never lose sight of what truly matters in life. Love and family.

  Know I’ll be there with you, always smiling.

  The paper slid from his fingers and Bronx closed his eyes. His mother was right. Chelsea wasn’t just the woman he’d happened to fall in love with at the same time as Beckett. She was the glue that held them together.

  She would be the bridge between them. The connection that brought the Kingston family back together and gave it a future. If only they could convince her to give them another try.

  The doorbell sounded and Bronx stood up with a start. The front desk usually stopped anyone from coming up. He made his way to the front door and threw it open.

  “Beckett. You’re here.”

  His brother stood in the entryway, a smile on his face and a bag on his shoulder.

  “Did you get my package?”

  Bronx nodded. “I did. Thank you for that.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m sorry I didn’t give them to you immediately. I shouldn’t have followed our mother’s wishes, I should have let that decision be yours.”