by Sofia Daniel
After breakfast on Sunday, the triumvirate escorted me to a limousine that sped us out of Mercia county and to the center of London. Blake mixed us bucks fizz, a cocktail of orange juice and champagne for the journey, while Edward and Henry explained what typically happened during these Royal Academy charity balls. I gulped down my cocktail and listened to their explanations. There were so many rules, and for the first time, I wished I’d kept Edward’s hurled copy of The Debrett's Guide to Etiquette and Modern Manners.
Bourneville’s department store was located in the heart of London on one of the roads leading from Piccadilly Circus. It was an imposing, palatial-looking building made of stone and arranged over five stories. Tall, symmetrical windows, each with multiple panels adorned the lower floors, while the ground floor boasted the kind of fashion displays found in major department stores worldwide. Its grand entrance consisted of Roman-style, stone pillars, sentineled by guards in old fashioned, blue livery.
My heart thrummed in my chest. One day, all this would belong to Henry, the boy who had become a close friend. I tried not to gasp, tried not to appear awed by the sheer size and grandeur of the department store, but it was a near impossible feat.
The limo driver opened the door, and Henry helped me out. “You’re going to look beautiful in a ballgown.”
I stared down at my leather jacket, tank top, and skinny jeans and gulped. Why hadn’t they warned me to dress for the occasion?
The men at the door instantly recognized Henry and swept into low bows as they opened the door. Tingles of excitement ran up and down my spine, and I ignored the tiny voice screaming in the back of my head. Cinderella had a fairy godmother. Pretty woman had a rich benefactor. And today, it looked like I had three. But when I stepped in and my lungs filled with the subtle scents of mingled perfumes, and I took the splendor of the marble-floors, unbelievably huge, crystal chandeliers, and assistants selling all manner of luxury goods, even the voice in the back of my head turned mute.
“Shopping can be a tiring event,” Edward drawled. “Shall we have lunch first?”
Henry led us through the store to a door where a pair of security guards stood. With their tailored suits, bullet-proof vests, and earpieces, they looked more like bodyguards. They probably carried at least two firearms. The kidnappers had held Henry for an entire day, demanding sensitive security information about the store. Had he been able to warn his parents in time? We hadn’t spoken in depth about the ordeal, as Henry wanted to forget about it and move on.
The guards opened the door, which led to a carved, mahogany staircase, lit by a hexagonal skylight. Antique crystal adorned the walls between portraits of men who bore a resemblance to Henry. He explained that this part of the store led to private dining rooms and apartments used by the family whenever they returned to London.
After dining on coq au vin served with burgundy wine at an intimate dining room, we returned to the public area of the department store. Every major designer had a concession at Bournveilles: Chanel, Gucci, Yves St. Laurent, Prada… I stopped noticing after Dior because my head spun at all the choices.
Edward stepped back and swept his gaze up and down my body, making me flush. “What do you think, Blake? Is Hobson a Chanel girl?”
“Givenchy. She has that Audrey Hepburn chic.”
I drew my elbows into my body and dipped my head. “Hardly.”
Henry placed a hand on the small of my back, and I couldn’t help thinking about our last night in that room, when he’d caressed my belly and… I gulped, bringing my attention back to the boys and back to the department store. He asked, “Is there a designer you particularly like, Emilia?”
I closed my eyes and pictured Mom’s wedding dress. “Tom Ford.”
Henry’s lips spread into a grin of dimples, white teeth, and sparkling green eyes. “Tom Ford, it is, then.”
The man at the Tom Ford concession store showed me his selection of ballgowns. None of them looked right. I’d always pictured myself with an asymmetrical neckline, like Mom on her wedding day to Dad. It was before her career had taken off, and neither of them had much money. She’d designed the dress with a student of fashion, basing it on Roman togas. I pulled out my smartphone, showed him the picture of Mom, and asked if he had anything with this silhouette.
He disappeared into the storeroom and brought back a dress from a previous season. It wouldn’t be a perfect fit, but he took me into a mirrored fitting room the size of my dorm and pinned the dress in place. I clapped my hand to my mouth and gasped at the way he’d made the fabric skim my figure. This was exactly what I wanted.
When I stepped out, dressed in my skinny jeans, the boys’ faces fell. Henry stepped forward, brows drawn. “Didn’t you find anything you liked?”
Happiness bubbled up to my chest. “I did.”
“Where is it?” He glanced around, looking for the assistant. “We wanted to see you in the gown.”
“They’re making alterations. You’ll have to see the final version on the night of the ball.”
Blake shook his head and smiled. “Always keeping us on our toes.”
I smirked. “Don’t I ever?”
After Henry paid the cashier with his ebony store card, we returned to the limousine. One side of it had been decked out with ice, slices of lemon, and condiments like an oyster bar, and a magnum of champagne in a special, ice-filed compartment. Blake leaned over, dark eyes smoldering. “You know why oysters are considered an aphrodisiac?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“It’s the amino acids,” he said in a smoky drawl. “They increase the production of sex hormones and stimulate sexual desire. But I like to think it’s the slippery, sensual, slide of the oyster going down.”
My gaze automatically the length of his body, but I forced it back to his eyes in case it reignited the arousal from the night I’d hidden under the coffee table.
Edward chuckled. “Stop teasing the girl and drink your champagne.”
“It’s no tease.” He placed his glass to his lips. “If you’re ever curious about how I can last all night on oysters, you only have to ask.”
Henry’s green eyes danced with excitement. “He’s not joking about his staying power.”
I sipped my champagne, inhaling the alcohol-scented bubbles popping at the surface. “How would you know?”
The corner of his mouth curved. “Let’s put it this way. Best friends share everything.”
Blake raised a brow. “Everything.”
“Everything?” I glanced at Edward.
“They’re exaggerating. I wouldn’t share my last Rolo with anyone, but if there was something…” His gaze lingered on the neckline of my tank top, skimmed down my breasts, thighs, and then made a slow journey back to my eyes. “Or someone, we all adored, we wouldn’t squabble over it. We would be gentlemen and share.”
Blake rolled his eyes. “When he says ‘it,’ he means ‘her.’”
“You.” Henry pointed his flute at me.
My throat dried, and I gulped a mouthful of champagne. They had already gotten me to agree to be their shared date for the charity Christmas ball. My mind refused to believe they were suggesting anything else.
Blake leaned forward, chin raised, eyes glimmering with challenge. “I’d like to know your thoughts.”
Was I imagining things, or was the triumvirate making me an indecent proposal?
Chapter 18
My gaze swept from Henry, who leaned forward, green eyes expectant, to Blake, who gave me a saucy wink, to Edward, who furrowed his brow. My throat flexed in time with my tightening stomach. This had to be a trick. Boys this handsome collected girls. They didn’t vie for the attention of anyone, let alone a girl they’d called a trollop for weeks. The moment I asked if they were suggesting I date all three of them, they would chuckle and make a disparaging remark about my sexual appetite. Then Henry would tell them I was a virgin, and they’d all laugh.
After an awkward silence, Edward pl
aced his glass of champagne in a special holder. “Perhaps a change in subject would be appropriate.”
Blake lowered his glass. “But—”
“Tell me, Henry, what will you wear to the charity ball?”
Henry mentioned his green cummerbund and matching bowtie, and Blake laughed, saying that was what he wore to the last ball. The tightening of my stomach eased, but I couldn’t help thinking about what I’d heard. They might have shared objects, but I’d seen no evidence of them sharing girls. Henry hadn’t shown any interest in anyone until we had been forced together in a room for nine days. As far as I knew, Charlotte’s relationship with Edward had been platonic. I glanced at Blake, who shucked an oyster like a pro. I didn’t know how to describe the arrangement he’d had with Charlotte.
At the other end of the limo, Edward stretched out his long, muscled legs and took a slow sip of his champagne. Although he faced front, the blue of his eyes fixed on me. I probably stared back at him like a rabbit caught in the gaze of a wolf, but I had to work out what they’d proposed. If anything, Alice and Patricia shared Edward, so why would he want to share me with his friends?
I gave myself a mental shake. They had probably been talking about the dance.
The conversation continued as normal, with the boys wanting a hint at what I would wear to the ball and which accessories I would need. I kept tight-lipped but dropped useless hints that made them laugh. Blake showed me how to prepare and eat oysters, but he held off all that sexy talk the entire journey.
When we reached Mercia Academy, the limo sped past Elder House and through a small wood, to a mansion built in the same flat-fronted, symmetrical style as the main teaching block. It was significantly smaller, with four stories instead of five, but with tall, sash windows instead of four towers.
“Welcome to my home,” said Edward.
With a gasp, I blurted, “Who lives here?”
For a second, his face fell, taking on the expression of an abandoned, little boy. “The butler, I suppose.”
My stomach clenched. Henry had told me Edward’s mother had died in his first year of the academy. I wanted to ask about the current Duke of Mercia, but I remembered that Henry mentioned the man’s declining mental health. Blake grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the limo.
“Emilia,” he said with a forced laugh. “You have to see Edward’s gramophone. It’s the most ridiculous thing!”
“What’s a gramophone?”
Henry stepped out of the limo and placed an arm around my waist. “A record player of sorts.”
Blake also looped his arm around my back. “Let’s not waste time.” He ushered me up the steps that lead to a paneled, wooden door with iron knockers taking the shape of an eagle. “Onwards and upwards!”
I glanced over my shoulder. The door to the limo lay open, but Edward still sat inside. I turned to Henry. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Don’t ask about his family,” said Blake in smooth tones. “It’s a sore subject and not one we care to talk about.”
I wouldn’t push. I’d been on the receiving end of intrusive questions about my own family, and I didn’t want to be that type of person who couldn’t take a hint. We stepped through the doors and into a marble reception hall, much like the one in the main teaching block. Perhaps the buildings had been designed by the same architect.
An elderly butler stepped out from a wooden door beyond the reception hall. “Mr. Henry, Mr. Blake, how wonderful it is to see you.”
“This is Emilia,” said Blake. “Our new friend.”
The butler’s brows rose, and he inclined his head. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Emilia. How are you finding life at a British boarding school? A little different to what you’re used to in America, I presume?”
“I…” Realization hit me like a slap in the face. Edward had spoken to his butler about me. I forced a smile. “It’s great here. I love the architecture.”
He nodded, made a comment about the buildings around the campus, and led us up a set of grand, marble stairs to Edward’s suite on the first floor. The room was over six times the size of the dorm I shared with Rita with floor-to-ceiling windows giving a view of the mansion’s manicured gardens. At one end of the room stood a four-poster bed, and in the other stood a roll-top bathtub with claw feet. Silk brocade sofas occupied the middle, where two magnums of champagne sat in buckets crammed with ice.
The butler bowed. “Mr. Edward will join you soon.”
Blake rushed to the most bizarre-looking, wooden record player with a brass horn attached that curved and tapered into a needle. Beneath the gramophone was a cabinet of records. He pulled one out, settled it onto the turntable, turned a hand-crank, and placed the needle on the record. The strains of violins filled the room, making me giggle. The machine had to be over a hundred years old. Why wasn’t it in a museum?
He strode toward me and bowed with a flourish. “Care to waltz, my lady?”
I giggled and glanced away. “This is silly.”
Blake took my hand and swept me into a waltz. I’d taken dance lessons and had waltzed at Mom’s weddings and other social events, but dancing didn’t come naturally to me and I didn’t particularly enjoy it. I counted out the steps in my head and followed the music and Blake’s lead, remembering my dance instructor’s barked-out demands to correct my posture.
Blake hummed. “Not bad for someone who claims to have never danced before.”
“I said, I didn’t dance. There’s a huge difference.”
He frowned. “You’ll have to do something about your shoulders. They’re practically bunched up around your ears.” Before I could respond, he glanced over my shoulder. “Henry, stand behind Emilia and keep her in position.”
Henry snarled. “You’re the one who can lead and follow, remember?”
Blake let go of my hand and waist and stood at my back. He slipped off my leather jacket and threw it on the sofa. Then with strong, deft hands, he massaged my shoulders. “Is that better?”
I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensations sparking from his fingertips. They penetrated my muscles, making them relax back down to a restful posture. A sigh slipped from my lips. “You’re good with your hands.”
“Better than me?” Henry took my hand and wrapped his arm around my waist in the closed position.
“I didn’t say that.”
We continued the waltz, with Blake mirroring my steps at my back and adjusting my posture.
When the music stopped, Blake leaned close and murmured, “Very good.” His lips grazed my neck, eliciting a full body shudder.
Henry lifted my chin and brought his lips down onto mine in a dizzying kiss. Desire and relief flooded my body. I had wondered if our intimacy would continue. His kisses on the cheek had been nice, but nothing of the passion we’d shared on our last night. Henry’s lips slid over mine, and the arm around my waist pressed me into his hard body. I slid my hand down from his shoulder over his huge biceps and round to his strong back and rested it just above the taut ass I’d ogled more than once while he’d curled up on that mattress. This was the first time we had kissed since the kidnapping—really kissed—and the slide of his lips against mine was as potent as any drug.
The butterflies in my stomach took flight, exploding like fireworks at the sheer excitement of being with him again. When he had told me we were friends, I hadn’t expected much, but this was beyond any hope I dared to have harbored.
Henry’s tongue swept across the seam of my mouth, demanding entrance. With a moan, I let him in. His tongue made the most delicious caresses, each one sending licks of pleasure between my legs and making me whimper. He pressed us so close, the thudding of his heart synchronized with mine.
“Henry.” My tone was breathy, desperate. It was impossible to word my request. I wanted more. Needed it. But the words, whore and trollop echoed in my skull. If this was a trick, a test of my virtue, I would fail.
Blake stood so close to me his body heat warmed
my back. Then butterfly kisses landed on my neck. Soft at first. The barest whisper of smoke on the breeze. I arched into the touch, and the kisses became more insistent. Hot. Open-mouthed. Another set of arms wrapped around me from behind, engulfing me in the intoxicating scent of cedar and spice.
“I’ve wanted you for an eternity, Emilia.” Blake ran a hand down my side, skimming a path of fire along my breasts, waist, and settling on my hip. “You’re the most exciting thing to have happened to this academy since we joined.”
Henry broke away from the kiss, his pupils blown. I thought he would tell his friend to back off, but instead, he murmured, “Blake’s turn.”
I turned my head, and Blake’s lips descended on mine. Unlike Henry’s kiss, his started playfully. He caught my bottom lip between his teeth and pulled.
“Stop toying with her,” said Henry.
“As you wish.” Blake’s arms wrapped around my middle, and he brought me into his body.
His full lips brushed mine in another tease that left me wanting more. With a moan, I parted my lips in a silent command for him to deepen the kiss. Blake’s tongue flicked out to meet mine in short licks, each one making my core pulse with need. He was a tease, who acted like he enjoyed chasing girls, but this kiss told me everything I needed to know about this flirtation: he wanted the girls to crave him. My tongue darted out to meet his, in a series of mirroring licks, until he tired of the game and took control of the kiss.
Henry ran his tongue along the other side of my neck, making my core clench. I lowered my hand and squeezed his ass, the way I had wanted to do while he slept. Henry’s large, warm hands roved my clothed body, stopping at my breasts, which he cupped and squeezed and caressed. Each touch brought me to a desire so dizzying, I could barely stay upright.
When Blake finally broke away, my gaze landed on Edward, who sat on the sofa, legs spread. He pressed the heel of his hand on his erection, and the movement sent a shudder down my spine.
“The three of us have wanted you since the day you joined the academy,” murmured Blake.