The Morrison follow-up meeting should have been routine, but nothing felt routine anymore.
I sat at the conference table, laptop open, trying to focus on quarterly projections and market analysis, but every fiber of my being was hyperaware of the three men around me.
"I think we're good here," Liam said finally, closing his folder. "Jasmine, could you stay behind for a moment? I want to go over the client contact strategy."
Finn and Asher exchanged a glance as they gathered their things, but neither commented. As the door closed behind them, the silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we couldn't say.
"How are you really doing?" Liam asked, his voice soft with genuine concern. "I know this morning was a lot to process." His care for me made me feel needed. That was one of the reasons I didn't stop him. I needed it. I wanted it.
I looked down at my hands, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his intense attention. "I'm okay. Just trying to figure out how to navigate all this."
He moved closer, close enough that I could smell his cologne, close enough to remember how those strong hands had felt on my skin. When he reached out to brush his knuckles against my cheek, I leaned into the touch.
Before I could say something, the conference room door burst open.
"Oh, sorry!" Adelyn's voice was bright with false cheer. "I didn't realize you were still here."
Liam stepped back smoothly, but I caught the flash of irritation in his eyes. "I asked you to not enter without my permission."
"Sorry! I just needed to grab my notes from earlier." She moved to the table with deliberate slowness, her sharp gaze taking in every detail, the way Liam and I were standing, the slight flush I could feel heating my cheeks, the tension that probably radiated from both of us.
Something about the way they interacted set my teeth on edge. Had she visited him like this before? Just walked in like she had the right? The idea that there might be something between them buried itself in my brain and refused to leave.
After she left, Liam ran a hand through his hair, that nervous tell I was learning to recognize.
"I think she’s watching us." I said quietly.
"Let me handle that," he replied, but I could see the concern in his expression.
"Please do. I don't want any problems." The words came out like a command—and judging by the smirk spreading across Liam's face, he liked that tone on me a little too much.
As I gathered my things to leave, his hand brushed mine, a subtle touch that felt like a promise amid all the uncertainty. The contact sent warmth shooting up my arm, a reminder of everything we were trying to keep hidden.
That evening, I found myself at Liam's penthouse again, but this time in his private studio.
He'd mentioned it casually, said I could use it to work on some of the music cues for upcoming projects.
This was what I needed.
Music had always been my lifeline—the one thing that didn't abandon me, relapse, or need thirty-seven thousand dollars to survive. It was why I'd fought so hard to land at Cadence Records in the first place.
When life decided to use me as a punching bag, I wrote songs about it. Cheaper than therapy. More productive than screaming into pillows.
Now every lyric dripping from my fingers was drenched in them. That night. Those hands. The way three men had taken me apart and somehow put me back together was different.
If the universe required me to auction off my virginity to end up here—playing a Steinway in a penthouse, writing music that actually meant something, thoroughly ruined by my three hot bosses?
Honestly? Worth it.
As I sat at the piano, my fingers moving across the keys, I found myself composing something entirely intimate.
The melody started innocent enough, a haunting progression that captured the complexity of my feelings. But as the music carried me away, words began to form.
"Take control, make me yours tonight
Show me what it means to fall
Your hands, your mouth, your whispered call..."
I was so wrapped in the music, in the storm of need I’d poured into every lyric, that I didn’t hear the door open.
“Well, well…” Finn’s voice rolled through the air like silk and smoke. “What have we stumbled into?”
I startled, hands flying off the keys. My heart leapt into my throat as I looked up to see him standing just inside the door, Asher close behind.
They moved silently, eyes scanning the sheet music scattered across the piano, lyrics dripping with heat, surrender, longing.
My breath hitched. I hadn’t meant for anyone to see them.
“I-it’s nothing,” I said, too quickly, reaching for the pages.
Finn stepped in, grabbing one before I could. His eyebrows rose as he scanned the words. “Oh, this is definitely something, sweetheart.”
Asher picked up another sheet. His eyes flicked over the words. His jaw ticked, but not in judgment, in control.
“You wrote this about him,” Finn said softly, stepping closer. “About Liam. About how you want him to fuck you.” He looked up, but I saw something in his eyes. Jealous?. “But I think… maybe you want us, too.”
"Give that back—" The air had thickened, the oxygen sucked out of the room by the weight of what I’d written, what I wanted.
"Not a chance.” Asher said, stepping behind me.
Finn’s hands slid to my hips, pulling me gently back into him, his mouth finding the curve of my neck. He kissed me there, soft, then harder, biting just enough to make me whimper.
Asher moved to the front of the piano, tipping my chin up. “Look at me, Harlow.”
His voice was rough silk. When I obeyed, his mouth crushed against mine. He kissed like a man who never let himself lose control, but was on the edge of it now.
I moaned into him as Finn's hands slipped under my shirt, trailing fire across my stomach, then up to cup my breasts through my bra.
“God, you’re hot,” Finn murmured, pulling my shirt over my head. “This fucking body, do you even know what you do to us?”
Asher unclasped my bra, baring my breasts to the cool air, and to their heated eyes. His fingers grazed one nipple, then his mouth replaced them, sucking it into the warmth of his mouth as Finn’s hands slid into the front of my jeans.
I gasped, hips rocking into his touch. He found the damp heat beneath my panties and groaned against my neck.
“Already wet? Good girl.” Finn teased, voice husky. “You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?”
I nodded, helpless as Asher pushed me back against the piano bench. He dropped to his knees in front of me while Finn knelt behind, stripping me of the last of my clothes with aching slowness.
“Legs apart,” Asher commanded. “Let me take you.”
I obeyed, thighs trembling as he slid between them, lifting one over his shoulder. Then his mouth was on me—hot, firm, devastating. His tongue licked a slow stripe through my folds, then circled my clit with agonizing precision.
“Oh, fuck— Ash…” I choked out, my hands flying to his head, tangling in his hair.
Behind me, Finn’s hands stroked my back, my hips, grounding me. Then his fingers joined the fray, two slipping inside me, thick and skilled, thrusting in time with Asher’s tongue.
My whole body arched. The piano behind me groaned from the strain as I clenched around Finn’s fingers, pleasure crashing into me in dizzying waves.
“That’s it,” Finn whispered, kissing the back of my neck. “Come for us, baby.”
I did, with a strangled cry, my orgasm tearing through me, shattering me open. I trembled between them, gasping, eyes wet. But they weren’t done.