So tomorrow, I’d go back. I’d tell my billionaires that we’d work it out. That didn’t mean no more arguing, but it did mean we’d establish boundaries, whether far or near. What those parameters were exactly, I wasn’t sure … but we’d figure it out together.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Joanie
My form quivered in the elevator, cheeks flushed. Because when I checked in with the concierge, he’d nodded.
“Of course, Miss MacAllister,” the elderly man said in a professional tone. “I’ll let you right up.”
But then that expression got serious. “You guys having a party up there? Three other gentlemen went up this morning as well. Management needs to be informed if there are parties bigger than five,” he frowned.
I gulped. Who was at Nick’s apartment? It had to be Damien, Charlie and Tom. The other three alphas must have shown up to resolve the issue of my possession.
So I gulped.
“No-not sure,” was my stammer. “But I can let Mr. North know.”
The concierge nodded.
“Yes, please. Ask him to call down and I’ll note it in our computers,” he said officiously. “Co-op rules and regulations, you know.”
I nodded, although in fact, I had no idea how the rules worked. Co-ops are a weird quirk of New York City. They run buildings in NYC, and the boards have been known to be strict and even bizarre in some cases. A party of five people didn’t sound so ginormous to me, but it wasn’t my place to say.
“Okay,” I said timidly. “Will do.”
And with that, I was whooshed up in the gleaming elevator, heart pumping excitedly. Because after visiting Karen, I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to tell the billionaires my story. I wanted to lay out my concerns, and to address them heart in hand. How things would turn out wasn’t clear, but there was definitely some type of resolution that would work for all of us.
But life is zany and bizarre, and my heart dropped to my stomach when the elevator doors opened. Because I thought I’d be alone. There’s only one apartment on Nick’s floor after all, and that’s his penthouse.
But unexpectedly, a beautiful blonde breezed in, hair slightly mussed, lipstick off just a touch off.
She shot me a dirty look.
“Getting off?” the girl asked. Her voice was dry and raspy, like she’d just tasted something nasty.
I shook my head, and then nodded quickly.
“Yes, yes, in fact I am,” I said.
She stared, those blue eyes unkind.
“This is it,” were her flat words. “You’re at the right floor.”
And numbly, my feet took me off the elevator, doors dinging closed once more.
But my lungs wouldn’t inhale. Or more accurately, they were filling with oxygen too fast. I felt lightheaded and faint.
Because who was that girl?
Why had she been so surly?
Why had she looked me up and down like I was the competition?
I was dressed in nothing special, just jeans and a t-shirt. My brown hair was wild as always, springing in curls around my shoulders.
But the blonde had narrowed her eyes at me, surveying my assets up and down. And strangely, we looked somewhat alike, superficially at least. We both had huge, soft breasts with wide hips. Her bum was as big as Kim Kardashian’s, clad in pink velour sweat pants with a lower back tattoo peeping over the waistband.
Who was that girl?
And why was she visiting Nick?
Heart thumping, my feet propelled me forwards. There was only one apartment on the top floor, and that belonged to the billionaire. So why did he have a pretty blonde visitor at ten in the morning? She couldn’t have been visiting anyone else.
Creeping towards the front door, I paused, pressing my ear to the wood.
It wasn’t necessary.
Every word was clear as a bell.
“Ripe,” drawled one male voice. “Luscious for sure.”
“Yeah, she’s good,” remarked another one. “Not as good as Joanie but still up there.” Was that Tom? I sort of recognized his tone.
But the next voice was unmistakable, deep and raspy.
“Forget it, Joanie’s done,” came Nick’s comment. “Let’s move on.”
I fell to my knees then in the hallway. The thunk was loud but the carpet muffled most of the impact, even as I breathed hard, eyes wild.
Because it was clear what had happened. The billionaires had given up on me. When they discovered me gone this morning, they called up Helena for a new girl.
“Send a fresh one,” Nick must have commanded. “We’re done with the old.”
My eyes watered, stinging and hot. That fast? I’d crept out in the middle of the night, taking my stuff with me. And they’d given up already? Not just that, but called in my replacement as well?
Because that’s who the blonde girl was. She must have interviewed with the six men. They were all here, after all. The six of them were in New York for some reason or other, taking overnight flights. And when they discovered I was missing, it was the perfect time to do some screening for the next stewardess.
Forget Joanie.
Forget the brunette.
Forget the promises we made.
Oh wait. There had been no promises, nothing but a contract.
And now I was too much trouble.
Because billionaires don’t “work things out.”
Instead, everything goes their way, all the time.
And heart pounding, tears poured down my cheeks. How could this have happened? I didn’t deserve this. Just yesterday, the twins and Nick had been fighting over me. But one small disturbance in the universe, and I was toast? Because I needed some time to myself, that was it? How could they be so harsh and unrelenting? Why was this happening?
But there are no why’s in the world.
Things are unfair.
Nothing is just.
And I had to accept my fate. The billionaires were done with me. More than done, they’d already found someone else to take my place. At the very least, they were interviewing dozens of applicants, thus the dirty look the blonde shot my way.
She thought I was competition.
Oh god.
The realization hurt so bad that I keeled over, face in my hands.
Because I wasn’t competition.
I was leftover trash, one and done, thrown out with the garbage.
The knowledge seared my heart, tearing me apart from the inside out.
But no. They’d hear if I cried outside the door. So stumbling to the elevator bank, I jammed the button with a desperate finger, willing the lift to carry me away.
Get me out of here, the voice in my head whispered. Please now, before they discover my humiliation.
Because I was yesterday’s news … and the dream was over.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tom
I knew we shouldn’t have done the interview with the new girl. There was no need. Joanie had been gone only a couple hours. Hell, maybe she’d stepped out to grab a bagel, who knew?
But Helena had already booked the interview, and it was too late to cancel.
“Naw,” I grunted into the phone. “No need to send a new girl over.”
But the woman had been insistent.
“I think you’ll like Crystal,” she pushed. “She’s just your type.”
And what could we do? The texts we sent to Crystal’s number telling her not to come went unanswered. Likely, her cell was dead or lost. A lot of these girls are so flighty they have no idea where their phone is most times.
So when the knock came on the door, I shot a warning glare at my brothers.
“Keep it real,” I said sotto voce. “We’ll get her out of here in fifteen.”
And the woman who showed up was okay. Helena was right in some respects. We liked her body for sure. Massive Double D tits swung and beckoned. Wide hips curved sassily, begging to be touched.
But the blonde was nothing compared to Joanie. There wa
sn’t an ounce of sweetness in those blue eyes. Instead, they were canny like a fox, sizing me up in a flash.
“Oh hi,” she cooed. “I’m here for the job with Elite Air.”
And without waiting to be invited, Crystal waltzed inside wearing pink velour sweats that were about two sizes too small, with the word “Hot” emblazoned in rhinestones on the back. Ugly, if you asked me. I much preferred Joanie’s modest yet simple way of dressing. This girl was brassy and flashy by comparison, her hair a too-bleached blonde, ironed straight to look like Paris Hilton.
But fine. Let’s just get this over with. And perching herself sassily on the couch, the blonde introduced herself to my brothers.
“I’m Crystal,” she purred. “But you can call me Crys if you want. Whatever you like boys,” she cooed flirtatiously, tossing a fall of that straw-like hair over her shoulder. “Any time you want,” the girl added lasciviously.
Gross. We like our females to know their place, and clearly Crys didn’t know hers at all. She was so cocksure and confident, used to having men kneel in her presence.
But we weren’t like that. Number one, we’re the kings. We don’t kneel to anyone. And second, there was no job to fill. This was an informational interview at most. Not even that. It was just fifteen minutes of air time to fill, and then she’d be gone.
So we made chitchat about nothing, revealing the barest facts about Elite Air.
“So how many jets do you have?” she smiled acquisitively, almost licking her lips. “Two? Three? Or maybe six? There are six of you,” she grinned.
In fact, we did have six jets. But no need to tell the truth.
“Just one,” rumbled Damien, eyes shuttered. “It’s enough for all of us.”
“Oh,” pouted Crystal, lip sticking out. “I thought there might be one for each billionaire.”
We exchanged looks. Who told her we were billionaires?
“Naw, Helena’s got you thinking we’re Donald Trump,” Charlie said smoothly. “We’re nowhere near that level. Rich enough to share some flight time, sure, but our plane’s mortgaged to the hilt. In fact, Andrew, did you make that last payment?”
His twin slapped his head like a silly schoolboy.
“Oh my god, forgot,” Andrew huffed, rolling his eyes. Shit, my man’s acting was so over the top that I almost laughed. But my lips stayed in a frown, body motionless. No need to give the farce away.
“Is it too late?” Aaron chimed in, fumbling for his cell. “Maybe I can call the bank and get our deadline extended. But we were already late last month,” he said with a mock frown. “I don’t think they’ll be so nice again.”
That did it. The overall impression was that we were guys living above our means. We were rich, sure, but just medium rich. Not the kind of billionaire that you hope to meet as a stewardess for a charter airline. More in the category of the well-to-do dentist from Iowa.
So Crystal’s lips turned into a sneer.
“There’s a mortgage on your plane?” she asked disbelievingly.
“Oh sure,” stepped in Tom. “Absolutely. We bought that thing with a big loan from the bank, no other way we could afford it.”
That sealed the deal with Crystal.
“Thank you,” she said abruptly, standing with those rhinestones winking. “I have another job lined up actually. I forgot to tell you.”
We feigned mock confusion.
“A competing offer?” I said quickly. “We’ll match it. You’re perfect for a position with Elite.”
“How much is your other offer for?” asked Andrew worriedly. “Because maybe we can’t afford it,” he said, shooting a meaningful look my way.
Shit, these twins were hilarious. Fucking incredible. They should be actors with the way they were carrying on.
But it didn’t matter. The blonde was already stalking towards the door, purpose in her movements.
“Thanks so much,” she called over one shoulder. “I’ll just let myself out.”
And with a swish of that imperious ponytail, she was gone.
We waited until the elevator door dinged before bursting into raucous laughter.
“What the fuck?” was Nick’s crude comment.
“Shit,” repeated Charlie. “Shit got screwed.”
But it was more than that.
“She was the right shape,” I growled. “Helena knows what we like physically. But that girl was nothing like Joanie. Nothing at all.”
“Speaking of which, where is Miss Chickadee?” drawled Andrew, looking around like he could find her somewhere. “What’d she get up to?”
I shrugged.
“Should be back soon,” was my confident reply. “Probably just stepped out for coffee.”
Aaron glanced at his watch.
“Been a while,” he growled, eyes getting intense. “What the fuck, how long could coffee take? Isn’t there a bodega on every corner in this city?”
I shrugged again.
“Starbucks has lines that go for miles these days,” was my casual reply. “Something about fall flavors and red cups instead of white.”
“Are you shitting me?” interrupted Nick. “Seriously, is this what we’re talking about? Pumpkin spice and all that bullshit?”
I shrugged.
“Marketing is my thing. If you knew how much Starbucks spends researching their holiday offerings, you’d be astounded.”
Because it was true. Whatever people say about their coffee, Starbucks is a marketing genius. They’ve taken over the coffee industry and prevented newer, cooler upstarts from making headway. So geniuses all around.
But Nick had a point. It was ten thirty now, and there are bodegas all over the neighborhood. Joanie should have been back by now.
“Shit, what if she doesn’t come back?” rumbled Damien, eyes concerned. “Did you guys fuck up big time yesterday?”
The twins and Nick exchanged a glance that was frankly, a little guilty.
“Naw,” Aaron denied. “Nothing that serious.”
“What happened again?” asked Charlie, squinting his eyes. “Seriously, what the fuck went down?”
And they launched into an explanation once more. How Joanie was supposed to be on her way to Atlanta to meet the twins, but Nick kept her here. The twins, enraged, flew up to NYC, confronting the balpha. And there was a blow-out. A massive blow-out that had the girl in tears and apologizing, even though it wasn’t her fault.
“We’ll fix it when Joanie’s back,” I assured them smoothly. “It’s fine. People fight. There’s six of us, and it’s expected.”
“But the girl didn’t appreciate being in the middle of it,” rumbled Andrew reflectively, eyes on the horizon. “Not at all.”
I snorted.
“Did you fuckers think about that before you scared the shit out of our female?” was my growl. “Seriously assholes. Did you have to do that in front of her face?”
The twins and Nick shared another guilty glance.
“Yeah, we fucked up,” admitted Aaron. “Goddamit.”
But Andrew’s hackles went up then.
“We’ll discuss it when Joanie gets back,” he said huffily, making eye contact with us all. “We’ll have a real conversation then and get it sorted out,” he shrugged. “No worries.”
Because that’s why we were here. The dust-up had been serious enough that me, Damien and Charlie took red eyes into the city. Among the six of us, we had to figure out how to share the female because the old methods hadn’t worked so well. Joanie was our one and only … and we had to let her know.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Charlie
Three months later …
Oh shit, oh shit. We fucked up. Or more accurately, Nick and the twins fucked up. Because Joanie never came back that day. Or the day after. Or the week after.
And now it’s been three months without laying eyes on the luscious female form. It’s been three months since we spoke to her.
We know where she is. It was easy to find out. One call to our
private investigator and her location was evident immediately.
She was at the Hudson dorms with a friend from middle school named Karen.
Why the fuck would she live in dorms, when she could live in Nick’s penthouse?
What the fuck was she doing at the Hudson University dorms anyways? Taking classes? Meeting boys her age? What the hell?
The six of us have been like caged animals since, tense and angry. Sure, we’ve left New York intermittently. I’ve gone back to Chicago a couple times to tend to business, Damien’s dropped in on Dallas, and Tom on Tucson. But we always come back. Because we’re waiting for Joanie to make an appearance.
Those sweet brown curls, surrounding her flushed face.
Those big boobies bouncing, hips swaying back and forth.
And oh shit that cunt. That steamy, sweet slit with a brownie in back that makes us drip with need.
Because Joanie’s truly our one and only. She’s gorgeous, smart, and innocent as an angel. And yet she’s not an angel either. Because the female went wild when it came to taking us all. Her pussy was hungry, swallowing cock after cock, juicing with need.
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