Ménage in Manhattan: The Complete 5-Book Ménage Romance Collection

by Tara Crescent

  I wasn’t lying to Paul. Nicky has an interview on Wednesday, and I need to be there to ensure that everyone sticks to the script. But until then, I’m free to set my own schedule.

  I’ve spent most of my weekend thinking about Carter and Dominic. Mooning over them, if I’m being honest. A thousand times, I’ve reached for my phone, but I haven’t heard from either of them. They haven’t texted; they haven’t called. Several times, I’ve wanted to call them myself, but I held off. It’s just sex, I’ve told myself sternly. Don’t get attached.

  Except that the last two days have confirmed something I’d suspected Friday night. It’s already too late for that.

  I have to head back to Atlantic City eventually, but I’m still reeling from that realization, and so, on Monday evening, I head to Piper’s restaurant for this week’s Thursday Night Drinking Pack adventures.

  Bailey isn’t there—she’s still in the Hamptons. Katie isn’t there either; she has a cold. Miki always attends virtually, but today, she has to work late. It’s just Wendy, Piper, and me at Aladdin’s Lamp.

  Piper sets a plateful of hot appetizers in front of us and opens a bottle of Syrah. “Put that on my tab,” I tell her. “And bill us for the food too.”

  “Of course not.”

  I give her a pointed look. “Your restaurant isn’t making money, your lease is expiring soon, and your landlord might raise the rent. Take our money, Piper.”

  “What she said,” Wendy agrees, reaching for a deep-fried pickle. “Gabby, tell me everything about Nicky Z. Unless she’s a huge bitch, in which case I don’t want to know; I prefer to hold onto my illusions.”

  I give her a surprised look. “I didn’t realize you were a fan.”

  “When ‘Save Yourself’ came out, I had it on endless repeat. I’m a huge fan.”

  She wasn’t the only one; I love that song. “Nicky is not a huge bitch,” I assure Wendy. “Or even a little bit of one. She’s really nice. You should drive down one of these days, and I’ll get you tickets to her show.”

  “That’d be amazing.” She sits up in excitement, and then her face falls. “Assuming I can get away.”

  “Work?” I ask sympathetically. Wendy works impossible hours in her quest to become a partner at her law firm.

  “Yeah. Most of my clients are okay, but there’s this one couple…” She shakes her head. “Bitter divorce. She’s called the cops on him, alleging abuse. He’s accused her of starving the kids. Both of them want sole custody and will do anything to get it.”

  She says custody, and it reminds me of Carter. Which then reminds me of the way he’d played with the Jacuzzi controls, directing streams of water at my oh-so-sensitive clit.

  “I don’t get it,” Piper says, her voice snapping me back to reality. Just as well. “Sure, feelings run high in a divorce. But doesn’t everyone want what’s best for the children, at the end of the day?”

  Wendy refills her glass of wine. We’ve been here for little over thirty minutes, and the first bottle is almost over. It’s going to be that kind of day. “It’s never that simple,” she says. “Yes, in the abstract, the vast majority of parents want to act in their children’s best interests. But it breaks down in the details. Last year, I had a client, a meat-and-potatoes rancher from Wyoming, who was getting divorced from her vegan wife. My client thought that depriving her son of a hamburger was abuse. The spouse thought eating meat was murder. Each one dug in. Things were already complicated because one of the moms was the biological parent, and she wanted sole custody.”

  “What happened in the end? Who won?”

  “There’s only one winner in an acrimonious custody battle,” she says wearily. “And that’s the lawyer. It’s the depressing part of my job.” She turns to Piper. “Your lease is expiring?”

  “Soon,” Piper confirms gloomily. “It’s keeping me up at night.”

  I help myself to a handful of chips. “Are we trading depressing work stories? Because my boss told me that they’re shutting down the Manhattan office. They want us to work from home.”

  Wendy gives me a quizzical look. “From your tone, I take it that’s bad. Why?”

  “I’m already sidelined at work.” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. “I should have been promoted to Account Manager three years ago, but Francisco won’t hear of it. Maybe I’m a pessimist, but going remote is only going to make things worse.” It’s my turn to refill my glass. I drain the last of the bottle.

  Piper, good friend that she is, takes the wine bottle to the recycling bin in the back and returns with a new, full one. “Still, it’s not for long, right? You’re going to start your own firm. You’ll only have to put up with their bullshit for what, six more months?”

  The delicious, crisp, cold Chardonnay turns bitter in my mouth. My dreams had been so close to becoming reality. Things had almost been within my reach. And then I’d lost a hundred thousand dollars in one night of hubris, I had to beg my dad for a loan to pay Sammy, and I have no start-up capital left. I’m not in any position to strike out on my own. Not for another five years, at least. “No, I changed my mind. I’m going to stick it out.”

  “Why?” Wendy frowns at me. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to say something about changing the company culture from the inside, Gabby. Shit like that only happens in the movies.”

  “I just think I have more to learn before I’m ready to go off on my own.” I feel terrible lying to my friends, but I can’t tell them about my stupidity. They’d insist on helping me, and I would hate that. As it is, I feel like a complete shit for asking my parents for a loan. “Can we talk about something else? Work is too depressing a topic for a Monday night.”

  “Sure thing.” Piper’s expression turns mischievous. “Gabby, tell Wendy who you’ve been hanging out with.”

  Well, I did bring this upon myself. “Thank you, Piper,” I say dryly. “Remember the guys I had a threesome with? I ran into them in Atlantic City.”

  “And?” Piper queries innocently.

  “And we’re doing it,” I confess.

  Wendy’s mouth has fallen open. “Whoa,” she says. “Define ‘doing it.’”

  I quirk an eyebrow. “Wendy, do I need to tell you about the birds and the bees?”

  She rolls her eyes. “How often, for how long, and are feelings involved or not?”

  Trust Wendy to get to the heart of the matter. “As often as our schedules line up,” I reply. “For as long as I’m in Atlantic City. And no, no feelings.”

  “Hang on,” she says. “Aren’t you in Atlantic City for six weeks?” She gives me a searching look. “Are you sure about the no-feelings thing? Is that really what you want?”

  “It’s just sex, Wendy. What else could it be? There are two of them. Anything else is too complicated.”

  “Bailey makes it work.”

  “Tell Wendy about the ice-cream,” Piper cuts in.

  Gah. My friend is an incurable romantic. I should have never told her that story. “I ate lunch with them, and got a slice of apple pie to go,” I say reluctantly. “Carter sent up ice-cream to my hotel room.”

  “Aww, that’s adorable.” She leans forward. “Are they good people? Or just hot?”

  “They both seem pretty great.”

  “In that case, what’s stopping you from starting a relationship with them?” She doesn’t wait for me to reply. “I mean, you do you. I’m not going to tell you how to live your life. I’m just saying, the last time I had a booty call type thing, he definitely didn’t bring me ice-cream. Instead, he would text me in the middle of the night with a question mark. That’s it. He couldn’t even summon up the energy to type in a sentence.” She counts on her fingers. “W-A-N-N-A B-A-N-G-? Two words. Nine letters. That was too much effort.”

  I shouldn’t laugh; I really shouldn’t. “Tell me it didn’t last.”

  “It lasted longer than it should have.” She grins unrepentantly. “I was in law school. It’s not like I had time for anything else. And l
et’s be honest, I wasn’t much better. He’d text me with a question mark and I’d respond with a thumbs-up emoji. That was the extent of our communication outside of sex.”

  “We eat dinner together,” I confess.

  “That sounds like dating to me,” Piper says. “Are you sure they want no-strings-attached sex? Or is it possible they want more?”

  I open my mouth to reply, and then shut it. Dominic had looked hurt when I declined his offer of breakfast and ran away. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t imagining that.

  “I’m ninety-percent sure.” Unless I’m misreading the situation?

  “Why don’t you ask them what they want?” Wendy suggests. “Ask them to define it.”

  “You want me to ask them?” That sounds like a recipe for heartbreak.

  “Yes, Gabby, I do. We’re in the twenty-first century, you know. It is acceptable for a young lady to ask the two men she’s banging what they’re intentions are.”

  I giggle through my nerves. My stomach churns at the prospect of broaching this topic with Carter and Dominic, but Wendy’s right. “Okay,” I murmur, gulping down the rest of my glass of wine for extra courage. “I’ll ask them tomorrow.”

  26

  Gabriella

  The same young attendant is at the underground garage. Shortly after one, I pay him an exorbitant sum of money to free my car, and head to Atlantic City.

  It’s a weekday, and traffic is heavy all the way through. My phone rings a couple of times, but I let the calls go to voicemail; nothing is important enough to risk crashing. It’s almost five when I pull into the Grand River’s parking lot.

  After almost four hours in the car, I’m hot and sweaty.

  I’m nervous too. I have no idea how tonight’s talk with Dominic and Carter is going to play out. I know I need to summon up my courage and ask them if they want something more than sex, but even the thought of putting myself out there makes me break out in hives.

  It’s not like me to want to be in a relationship, and it’s not like me to care. I am capable of losing an absolutely terrifying amount of money in a poker game, but when it comes to love, I don’t gamble. I’m much more guarded about my heart.

  I walk into my room. Housekeeping has been in. The bed is made, the pillows plump and fluffy. There’s a vase filled with flowers on the coffee table. I recognize white roses and blue hydrangeas, but the rest of the arrangement is a mystery to me. The roses are fragrant—their aroma fills the air. The curtains are open, and even though I’ve spent three days looking at the view, the ocean still takes my breath away.

  Dropping my handbag on the couch, I head into the bathroom. Shower, perfume, makeup, my new crimson dress, my favorite espadrilles. If I’m going to have one of the most difficult conversations of my life, I need to get ready.

  I’m drying my hair when I hear a knock. I shimmy into a pair of panties, grab a plush hotel robe, belting it around my waist, and head to the front.

  It’s Dominic and Carter. “Can we come in?” Carter asks, a serious expression on his face.

  “Umm, sure.” My heart starts to hammer. Is something wrong? “Hi.”

  Dominic’s lips tilt up in a small smile. “Hi. How was your weekend?”

  It sucked, actually. “Not bad. Yours?”

  “Are we making small-talk now?” Carter cuts in. He sits on one of the couches. “About tonight…”

  I have a sudden, dreadful idea that I know where this is going, and I hate it. “You need to cancel? That’s not a problem.”

  He looks up, his green eyes piercing. “Actually, we were wondering if we could switch up the plan.”

  “Chef Jie is debuting a fifteen-course summer tasting menu this week at Dalian,” Dominic says, naming one of the casino’s Michelin-starred restaurants. “I thought that maybe—”

  “Go to a restaurant?” I gape at them. “In public?”

  Carter grimaces. “We screwed up,” he says. “No, let me rephrase that. This isn’t Dominic’s fault; it’s mine. I screwed up. I was so obsessed with Ed that I ignored the impact on everyone else.” He takes a deep breath. “Gabby, I like you. A lot.”

  “We like you,” Dominic interjects.

  I sink onto the nearest couch. What are they saying?

  “We like you,” Carter amends. “A lot. And it’s not only because of the sex.” His lips quirk. “Although the sex is hot.”

  Not going to argue with that.

  “We don’t want this to end when you leave Atlantic City, Gabby,” he says. “We want to date you.” He pauses. “Anytime you want to say something, by the way, feel free to interrupt.”

  “I know it’s unorthodox.” Dominic runs his fingers through his hair. “Three of us, I mean. But I don’t care about that, and neither does Carter.”

  Hope flutters inside of me. I squash it down. “What about Noah’s custody case?” I ask. “I hardly think the justice system will look approvingly at polyamory.”

  Carter makes another face. “Ed and I went to a mediation session yesterday.”

  He doesn’t seem thrilled about it. In fact, he looks like he drank spoiled milk. “How did it go?”

  “Not great,” he admits. “I sniped at Ed. Still, we’re meeting again next week. That’s got to be a good sign, right?” His lips twist. “You asked me what I hoped to achieve by sending you to spy on Ed. For months, Dominic’s been telling me to work things out with him. The two of you are right. I can’t keep Noah from seeing his dad. I don’t like Ed, but I have to learn to live with him.”

  Hope flickers to life again, slowly, cautiously. I’m so reluctant to trust it.

  “It’s so soon,” I murmur. “I mean, it’s only been a week.”

  “It’s been seven months,” Dominic retorts. “There’s been no one else. Not since we met you. It was supposed to be one night, but I couldn’t get you out of my mind. You marched into my life and took over.” An uncertain look flickers over his face. “If it’s too out there for you, being in a relationship with two people… “

  His words sink in. There’s been no one else. He can’t get me out of his mind. I swallow hard. Do I trust in love? Do I believe in happy endings? “My friend Bailey is dating two guys.”

  “She is?” Dominic’s head snaps up. “Look, I know it’ll be difficult. I’m not going to pretend otherwise. But we’re willing to try. You live in the city and Carter and I live here, but we’ll do everything we can to make it work. If you’re interested.”

  If I’m interested. Of course I’m interested. Dominic and Carter are offering me the thing I want the most.

  They’re telling me they want me, and yes, I trust them. I let hope fill my heart, and I finally allow myself to believe.

  I want to jump up and down and dance around the room in glee.

  “The long-distance isn’t a problem.” I wipe my palms on the robe. Somebody pinch me. “My office is closing. We’re going to be working remotely.”

  “It’ll be easier to freelance if you don’t have to go into work, won’t it?” Dominic asks. “I’ll send clients your way. In fact, I talked to—”

  “Dominic.” I stop his rush of words. “I’ll figure out my career on my own.” I finally allow the joy I’m feeling to show on my face. I grin at them like an idiot. “Forget work. I have a much more important question.”

  “Which is?”

  “What time is the dinner reservation?”

  “Eight,” Dominic replies. “Why?”

  I glance at my phone. It’s six. Yes! We have plenty of time. “Because I have a suggestion on how to pass the time.” I unbelt my robe and drop it to the floor. “I want more than sex too,” I tell them, still smiling like a crazy, happy fool. “A relationship sounds wonderful. But for right now…” My voice trails off suggestively.

  Carter gets to his feet and moves toward me with predatory intent. “It was a very long weekend, Gabby,” he murmurs. “We should make up for lost time.”

  27

  Gabriella

  Oh God oh God oh
God oh God. A shiver of pure anticipation runs through me as Carter nears me. Dominic stays by the window, giving me a lazy smile.

  “I missed you, Gabby.” Carter runs a large, callused hand up my bare ankle, leaving heat in its wake. Every nerve ending in my body sparks to life. Then his words sink in, and the sweetness of the sentiment takes my breath away.

  “I missed you too.” When I ran into Carter and Dominic last Tuesday, I was resolutely sure I didn’t want a relationship. I was convinced I had dreadful luck with men. I thought I only attracted guys like Stan, who ghosted me after sex, and George, who cheated on me. I thought I was cursed. I believed the only way to avoid pain was never to gamble with my heart.

  Everything has changed in just seven days. It’s almost enough to make me believe in miracles.

  Dominic moves at last. “Sit,” he invites, inching me back until the back of my knees hits the couch. I sink onto the cushions, and he tangles my fingers in his. “I’m really glad you’re here.” He sucks my forefinger into his mouth, his expression tinged with the same lust rampaging through my body.

  Me too.

  Carter settles on the other side of the couch, a solid, muscled presence, and leans closer to kiss my neck. His stubble rasps against my sensitive skin, a whisper that holds so much promise, and I shiver again, biting back my moan.

  “You’re so responsive,” Carter breathes. “I love it.” He presses another kiss on my neck, right at that spot that seems to be a hot button to my pussy, and I squirm on the couch, restless and wanting more.

  Dominic wraps his hand around my neck and turns me towards him, his mouth kissing a pathway toward my lips. Carter’s hand closes on my breast. I squirm on the couch, my need seesawing between anticipation and impatience. I wriggle and whimper and throw my head back on the couch, restless, needy. There’s an ache between my legs, a need that only these men can meet.