By the end of my shift, I've almost convinced myself I'm mentally prepared to prostitute myself to Satan's less attractive cousin.
Almost.
Every time I think I've achieved zen acceptance of my fate, Maxwell walks by and my ovaries stage a revolt.
Or Jared appears in my peripheral vision and my brain starts playing "Careless Whisper" on repeat.
Or Kobe exists in my general vicinity and I forget what year it is.
After clocking out, I escape to the back alley for what might be my last cigarette as a virgin—which, wow, that's not a milestone anyone puts in their scrapbook—only to find Kobe already there.
Leaning against the brick wall like a Calvin Klein ad that gained sentience.
Nope, you don't get to want them. You literally sold your V-card to Creepy McCreeperson. You're basically a walking Lifetime movie waiting to happen.
I pat my pockets dramatically. "Shit, forgot my cigarettes."
"Here." He holds out his pack, that devastating dimple appearing. "Unless you were lying to avoid me, in which case, ouch."
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. "I wasn't…"
"Relax, Rae. I don't bite." His amber eyes gleam in the streetlight. "Unless you ask nicely."
My face goes nuclear. He laughs and pushes off from the brick wall, producing a silver lighter from his pocket. The flame dances between us when he flicks it open, cupping his hand around mine to shield the wind.
"There," he murmurs, close enough that I can smell sandalwood and something darker beneath it. "Now you owe me a conversation."
I take a long drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs and buy me time. "What do you want to talk about?"
"You." He leans back against the wall, exhaling smoke in a way that shouldn't be sexy but absolutely is. "Where did you learn to sign like that? Mrs. Vogler said your fluency was remarkable."
So I told him about Elsie.
About the surgery.
About years of saving every penny while she waits to hear the world.
I leave out the part where our mother stole it all and I'm about to pay for it with my body in approximately ninety minutes.
"And the surgery you mentioned before?” Kobe's expression shifts, something raw flickering behind his eyes. “The one you're saving for?"
My fingers tighten around the cigarette. "Cochlear implants. There's a procedure that could restore her hearing almost completely. She's been on the waiting list for years, and we finally have a surgical window."
"Where'd you get the money?" His question is casual, but his eyes are sharp.
"Inheritance from my grandmother. Plus working every shift on every job I could grab since I was sixteen. Two dreams have kept me going—giving Elsie the gift of hearing and opening my own restaurant someday."
"Good girl," he murmurs, and those two words do things to my insides that should be illegal. "Working that hard chasing dreams… while taking care of everyone around you. That's remarkably selfless."
"It's just what family does."
"No, it isn't." He steps closer, and the space between us shrinks until I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. "Most people wouldn't sacrifice like that. Most people are selfish."
"Are you selfish?"
"Extremely." His eyes drop to my mouth. "I see things I want and I take them. No apologies, no regrets."
"And what do you want?"
The question slips out before I can stop it. He grins, slow and dangerous. "Dangerous question, Rae."
Heat floods my cheeks before I can stop it. He's so close I can see the gold flecks in his eyes, smell his cologne mixed with smoke.
One step closer and we're kissing.
One step and—
"You're blushing." His voice drops lower, intimate. "I love when you do that. Your whole face lights up like you're keeping secrets you're dying to tell."
"I should go," I blurt, stepping back and crushing my cigarette against the brick.
"Let me drive you home."
"I'm not going home."
"Ah." Something flickers across his face, there and gone. "Boyfriend's place? Lucky man, whoever he is."
"I don't—" I start to deny it, then realize this is my out.
Let him think I have a boyfriend. Let him think I'm taken. It's better than the truth.
He's already heading for the door. "Well, tell him from me—male solidarity and all—he better treat you right."
"Kobe."
He pauses, hand on the door.
"I don't have a boyfriend."
He turns back, glancing back over his shoulder, and that wicked smile returning full force. "Good to know, Rae. Very good to know."
***
The elevator ride at The Plaza feels endless. Each floor that passes brings me closer to a threshold I can never uncross, and by the time the doors slide open, my legs barely hold me upright.
The suite is empty when I enter. Just silence and the faint scent of fresh flowers arranged on an antique table.
My hands shake as I strip and put on the white lace nothing Armand sent. The thong might as well be dental floss. The bra is more suggestion than support.
One night. This is just one night.
Then I hear the room door open and close and my phone buzzes with a message almost immediately after that.
Armand: Where are you?
Me: In the bathroom. Getting ready.
Armand: Put on a robe when you come out.
I stare at the words until they blur.
Of course. Because unwrapping me like a fucking Christmas present is definitely part of his twisted fantasy.
I wrap myself in the hotel robe, cinching the belt tight enough to leave marks, and force myself toward the bedroom door.
Just open the fucking door before you lose your nerve.
I push through to the bedroom and my entire world tilts off its axis.
Because where one predator should be waiting, three devastatingly familiar figures occupy the space instead.
My knees actually buckle.
Jared dominates the leather armchair like a king holding court, storm-blue eyes locked on me. Maxwell stands by the window, backlit by city lights, while Kobe leans against the far wall, but the usual playful warmth is gone, replaced by something hungrier, darker than I've ever seen from him.
From any of them.
This isn't happening. This is a stress-induced hallucination. My brain has finally snapped and—
"What…" My voice cracks, goes high and breathy. I clutch the robe tighter, as if terry cloth could somehow protect me from whatever nuclear explosion is about to detonate in this room. "What are you doing here? How did you even…"
Silence.
They don't answer. They just stare.
My emotions crash together like a multi-car pile-up—terror and shame and confusion and, buried beneath it all, a sick thrill that it's them.
The three men who've haunted my dreams, standing in the exact spot where I was about to degrade myself for someone else's pleasure.
The silence stretches.
And stretches.
And stretches until I think I might scream just to break it.
Then Jared rises from his chair. Slow and deliberate. Every movement calculated to make me feel exactly how small I am in this massive suite, how trapped, how completely at their mercy.
He approaches like a panther stalking wounded prey, knowing I have nowhere to run. Each step echoes in the silence until he's close enough that I have to crane my neck to meet his eyes.
Close enough that I can see dark flecks in those eyes, dancing in the dim lamplight like warnings I should've heeded.
"We came to take what's ours."
His hand rises, and I stop breathing entirely as his fingers cup my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. His touch burns through my skin like a brand, sending electricity racing down my spine, pooling low in my belly.
"But first, you're going to tell me exactly what you are doing here." His thumb brushes my bottom lip, and I'm drowning—in his scent, in his proximity. “You’re gonna tell us what you were going to let him do to you."
"It's not what you think…" I whisper, but even I can hear the lie crumbling in my voice.
"Then enlighten us." Maxwell's tone is sharp enough to draw blood. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you were about to let that bastard touch you."
"How?" My voice cracks like I'm thirteen again. "How did you even know?"
Kobe pushes off the wall, and the temperature in the room drops ten degrees.
"Your phone, Rae. When you dropped it at the restaurant. Screen was facing up like a fucking billboard advertising your terrible life choices."
The floor tilts beneath my feet. "You saw and didn't say anything?"
"I wanted to give you the chance to tell me yourself." His voice cracks slightly. "Thought maybe you'd trust us enough to ask for help. But then you mentioned not going home, and I knew… I fucking knew you were going to go through with it."