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

by Tara Crescent

  “He can be pretty damn persuasive.”

  “That he can.” There is another long pause. “We both love Noah,” Ed repeats, breaking the silence. “Like Renata said, that’s a good starting point.”

  “Yeah, it is.” I hold out my hand to him. He gives me a crooked smile and shakes it.

  It feels momentous. We’ve turned the page. I’m finally ready to put the past behind. I’m ready to look to the future.

  A future with Gabriella in it.

  I’ve barely seen her the last few days. I’ve neglected her terribly, and I miss her. As I drive back from the hospital, I send her a text. ‘Take-out tonight? Indian food?’

  Her reply comes almost immediately. ‘Sounds perfect.’

  An instant later, my phone beeps again, notifying me of an incoming email. I glance at the display absently.

  Then I take in the words on the screen and excitement jolts through me. I pull off the side of the road and read the entirety of the message the private detective following Denton Mitchell has sent. I flip through the attachments. I zoom in on the images.

  Mitchell has been able to gain the upper hand because he’s willing to resort to violence, and we aren’t. But finally, we might have an edge.

  34

  Gabriella

  I haven’t seen much of Carter and Dominic since that night at the hospital. No surprise, really. Everyone is in crisis mode. Carter is taking care of Noah and spending all his spare time in the hospital. Dominic too. And on my end, work has been surprisingly busy. The clients loved the work I did on their rebranding strategy, and I’ve spent several hours on the phone as we hammer out the next steps.

  I called Fred Jefferson on Wednesday afternoon, and we set up a meeting for Friday, but I’ve been so busy with work that I’ve had to postpone it. I’m now having coffee with him on Monday.

  It’s Sunday night. Carter invited me to dinner. Call me a coward, but there’s a part of me that wants to postpone the conversation I need to have with Dominic. It’s been five days since we’ve spent any length of time together, and I miss them. I’m tempted to let it go. So what if Dominic called Fred Jefferson? Given everything else that’s happened, is it that big a deal? No, it really isn’t.

  You’re shying away from confrontation, my conscience whispers. You don’t want to learn the truth.

  This doesn’t have to go badly. This doesn’t have to be a fight. It’s a conversation, albeit a difficult one. But I have to have it. If I want to be in a real relationship with Carter and Dominic, I have to be able to trust that they’ll respect my boundaries. It doesn’t matter if Dominic thinks I’m making foolish decisions—they’re my decisions to make. It doesn’t matter if he thinks I’m an idiot for choosing to struggle instead of taking his help—if that is my choice, he should respect it.

  As much as I want to avoid the topic, I’ll have to bring it up. If I can’t have heart-to-heart conversations with them, this might as well just be about sex.

  I want far more than that.

  Dominic opens his door. “Come on in,” he smiles, wrapping his arms around me and giving me a bone-crushing hug. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too.” I look around before kicking off my shoes and sinking onto the couch. “Carter not here yet?”

  “He should be here any moment now. He went to drop Noah off at Samira Khan’s place. The kids are having a sleepover. He’s going to grab our takeout on the way back.”

  “He’s okay with that?”

  Dominic glances at me. “Is the sleepover safe, you mean? Yeah, there are guards. It’s been a pretty stressful week for Noah. Carter wanted him to have some fun.”

  He looks troubled. I pat the couch, and he settles next to me. I squeeze his bicep. “Ed’s on the mend,” I tell him. “He’s going to be back home soon. That’s good, right? Noah’s going to be delighted by that.”

  Carter walks in just then, cradling two full overflowing paper bags to his chest. He deposits them on the dining table and gives me a hug of greeting. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  “I’m wearing a tank top and shorts.”

  He grins lasciviously. “Exactly. Let’s eat before I get distracted by your legs.”

  Warmth flows through me at the compliment. Dominic grabs plates and silverware, and we settle at the table. “How much food did you order?” I ask, shaking my head at the overflowing containers of food. The chicken tikka masala smells delicious, and my stomach rumbles in anticipation. “Because there is enough here to feed a dozen people.”

  “I didn’t know what you wanted,” Carter responds. “I figured if I ordered enough stuff, I’d get it right.”

  “That’s almost word-for-word what Dominic said the first time we ate dinner together,” I reply with a laugh. “You should have texted me; you’re going to have so many leftovers.”

  “I doubt it. I’m starving.”

  We dive into the food. For a few moments, none of us talk; we’re too busy eating. Then, when we’ve polished off the samosas and made deep inroads into the chicken, the chickpeas, and the naan, Dominic clears his throat. “The night we had dinner at Dalian,” he begins. “Something was bothering you.”

  “I thought you’d forgotten.”

  He shakes his head. “No. I was waiting for a good time to bring it up, I guess.” His eyes rest on my face, serious and concerned. “Will you tell us what it is?”

  “At dinner, I checked my voicemail. There was a message there from Fred Jefferson. He said you had recommended me.” I set my fork down and take a deep breath. “Dominic, I thought I made my feelings clear. I don’t want you making calls on my behalf.”

  “I should have warned you that Fred would reach out,” he admits. “I was going to.” His lips curve into a faint smile. “In my defense, we were otherwise distracted.”

  With some really good sex. My cheeks heat.

  “I’m sorry, Gabby,” he continues. “When he asked me for someone who could help Nyla, I thought of you, but—”

  Wait a second. “He asked for a recommendation?” I lean forward. “You didn’t reach out to him?”

  “No, Fred runs a bank. Atlantic Southern. Mitchell applied for a loan there through various shell companies. Carter found proof tying Mitchell to the loan, and so I told Fred, who put a stop to the transaction. Mitchell retaliated by hurting Ed and Zach.” He looks unhappy. “Anyway, Fred asked me if I had contacts in the entertainment industry. I knew you were managing Nicky Z’s social media, so I thought it would be a good fit. I’m sorry. I should have checked with you before giving him your name—”

  “You didn’t call him about me,” I cut in. Relief floods through me. I’m so glad I didn’t storm out or make a scene, because I would have felt more than a little stupid. I would have ruined things between us over a silly misunderstanding.

  He shakes his head. “You said you didn’t want my help. I don’t like it, but it’s your decision to make.” He pushes his chicken around his plate, and then looks up. “Fred is extremely well connected. He can open doors for you. I thought if you found work here, it might give you a reason to stay.” He grimaces. “My motivations weren’t entirely pure.”

  “I don’t need a reason to stay,” I murmur. “The two of you are reason enough.”

  “It’s going to happen again,” Carter says. Dominic raises an eyebrow, and Carter elaborates. “When we take our relationship public, people will either be scandalized, or they are going to be extremely interested in you. Or both. Fred Jefferson is well-connected, but so is Dominic. There’s no other choice, because the alternative is to keep our relationship hidden, and I don’t want to do that. I love you too much to treat you like a dirty little secret.”

  He loves me.

  “It’s true,” Dominic admits reluctantly. “Carter’s right. People are going to ask about you. And of course, we’re going to talk you up; we think you’re amazing.”

  They want to make our relationship public. They think I’m amazing. My chest is
tight with emotion.

  This isn’t a black-and-white issue. There are shades of grey. “I want to succeed or fail on my own merit. I don’t want a handout. But if you recommend me to someone, I won’t freak out.” I think about that. “Well, I promise I’ll talk to you before freaking out.”

  “No handouts,” Dominic promises. “And I will check with you before I recommend your work. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  We don’t have all the answers today. There will be situations that we will disagree on. That’s okay. I care about them and they care about me. We’ll figure it out.

  “Dominic said it to me the other day,” I whisper. “And Carter, you just said it. And I want to say it back. I love you too. Both of you. So very much.”

  Their eyes light up. The air charges with promise. We finish our meal quickly. When we’re done and the table has been cleared and the leftovers have been put away in Dominic’s refrigerator, Carter fixes me with a meaningful glance. “It’s been a while, Gabby, and I want dessert.” The innuendo is crystal clear. “Move this to the bedroom?”

  “Wait,” Dominic says. “I’ve reached a decision, and I want the two of you to be the first to know. I’m done fighting Mitchell. I’ve decided to sell him the Grand River.”

  “What?” I gape at Dominic. “But you love your casino.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Mitchell has been quiet for the last few days, but what happens next? I escalate, he escalates again, and screw the consequences?” He shakes his head soberly. “I can’t do that. The consequences matter. People are getting hurt because of me. If something were to happen to Noah…” His voice trails off.

  He’s right. I know he is. But I don’t like it. Bad people shouldn’t win. It doesn’t seem fair. Mitchell is a thug and a bully. He should pay for his crimes, not walk away the victor. “There has to be another way.”

  “Actually, I think there is.” Carter hands Dominic his phone. “Irina sent this to me an hour ago. I’ve been trying to figure out how we can use it.” He turns to me. “You said Vittoria seemed sad, so I had my team look into it. Mitchell is cheating on Vittoria. Irina photographed him with another woman in a motel. She emailed me the pictures.”

  Dominic looks at the photos, and then hands me the phone. I look at the couple. A twinge of recognition goes through me, and I zoom in on the woman’s face. “She was at the poker game,” I tell them. “Her name is Ronnie. She’s a friend of Vittoria’s.”

  “Not much of a friend, if she’s banging her husband,” Carter points out. “He was a bit player until he married Vittoria. She’s got all the power in the relationship. I can’t believe he’d be stupid enough to cheat on her.”

  “You think we should send these to Vittoria?” Dominic looks unconvinced. “I don’t see how that will help. She’s not going to believe us over her husband.”

  “She might not,” I agree, the thought crystallizing as I speak the words. “But she wants to be my friend. She invited me to brunch. She might believe me.” Excitement jolts down my spine. “There’s another poker game on Tuesday. She’s going to be there. I’ve been invited. I could show her the pictures—”

  “No,” Dominic says flatly. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” The words come out in a rush. “I can be in and out of there in less than ten minutes. I care about you. I don’t want you to be forced into selling the casino, not if you don’t want to. Please let me help.”

  They start to argue, and I dig in, lifting my chin in the air. This is a fight I intend to win.

  35

  Dominic

  I hate this.

  It’s ten at night. The sun has set and the bright lights of the neon signs shine in the dark. People are wandering about on the streets, walking from casino to casino, chasing lady luck.

  I’m in the Grand River’s underground parking lot, standing in front of Gabby’s rental car. “You don’t have to do this,” I say, for the hundredth time. “The Grand River is just a casino. You are more important.”

  “You’re going to be right outside,” she points out, her voice calm. I’m a nervous wreck, but if Gabby is, she’s not displaying any signs of nerves. She taps the brooch she’s got pinned to her bodice. “And I have Carter’s gadget.”

  The brooch is a cleverly disguised camera. We’ll be able to see and hear everything as it happens. Carter has a quasi-legal security team surrounding the restaurant hosting the poker game. If Gabby is in danger and we need to act, we can be inside the building in less than a minute.

  A lot of things can go wrong in sixty seconds.

  “I still don’t like it,” Carter mutters, echoing my unease. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

  “Carter, this asshole hurt Ed. He could have hurt Noah.” Her expression is determined. “I’ll go in, show Vittoria the photos, and leave.”

  “We could text them to her,” I point out. “We could email it to her. Anything except you risking yourself.”

  “We’ve had this conversation before. Yes, we could. And if there really was a risk, I would go along with that suggestion. But there isn’t a risk. You said it yourself last week. Mitchell isn’t going to resort to violence in his poker rooms.” Her voice is persuasive. “You know it’s better that I show Vittoria these photos in person.” She glances at her phone. “Shit. I’m going to be late. I better go.”

  She stands up on tiptoe and envelops Carter in a hug, and then me. I can smell her perfume, the subtle tones of jasmine and mint messing with my mind. I cling to her for an infinite second, then she pulls away.

  The poker game is happening in a Mexican restaurant in Pleasantville. I get into Carter’s car, and we prepare to follow her.

  Gabby’s brave and spirited, and she can take care of herself. But she is precious to us, and we are going to be right behind her. I can only hope it’s enough.

  36

  Gabriella

  I’ve tried to conceal my nerves from Dominic and Carter. I can tell they don’t want me to go. But this is the only way to save the Grand River, and more than that, this is the only way to make Mitchell pay for what he did.

  I pull up at the address that Vittoria texted me. The parking lot is dark, but there’s a pink neon sign of a margarita glass in the window of the restaurant, and next to it is a green neon cactus. Half-priced drinks Mon-Thurs, a sign screams.

  It’s a warm night, and my nerves are on edge. A margarita sounds pretty damn good.

  No time for drinks. In and out. Ten minutes max.

  Carter has the building surrounded, he said. I can’t see any sign of his team, but I have no doubt they’re there. I take a deep breath and get out of my car.

  I’m a gambler; I’ve always been a gambler. It’s time to play, and tonight, though I won’t be playing a single hand of poker, it’s time to win big.

  “Gabriella!” Vittoria air-kisses my cheeks. “You finally made it out.”

  “Sorry I had to cancel brunch this week.” Because your insane husband beat up my partner’s brother-in-law. “Work was busy.”

  She waves away my apology. “Want a drink? The margaritas here are amazing.”

  “Sure.” Her friend—Ronnie McCheaty, and no, that’s not actually her last name, just what I’ve dubbed it—is here tonight. She’s seated at a poker table with her husband. “Let’s sit at the bar for a second.”

  She gives me a curious look. “Okay.”

  “Oh.”

  That one word is Vittoria’s only response to the dozen-odd large eight-by-eleven photographs I’ve set in front of her. They tell a damning story. Denton Mitchell pulling up at a motel. A few minutes later, Ronnie joins him, driving up in her red Miata. The two of them embrace in the parking lot. He gropes her breast through her shirt. She giggles. He places his hand on her ass and squeezes.

  “I’ve been there,” I say gently. “Eighteen months ago, I walked into my apartment on my birthday, and my boyfriend George was fucking a woman on my bed.” />
  “And did you know her?” Vittoria asks, her voice pained. “Was she your best friend?”

  “No,” I confess. George was bad, but what Vittoria is facing is so much more. It’s not just Denton Mitchell’s infidelity that has to sting. It’s her friend’s betrayal. That cut has to hurt just as bad. “I’m so sorry, Vittoria.”

  She draws in a deep, shuddering breath. “I thought something was wrong,” she whispers. “I hadn’t realized it would be—” She abruptly gathers the photos and shoves them back in the manila envelope. “Who are you, Gabriella? How did you get these pictures?”

  I open my mouth to deliver my carefully rehearsed script. This is the touchy part. It could all fall apart at this stage. “I’m Nicky Z’s PR rep,” I begin. “I’m also dating—”

  The door bursts open, and Denton Mitchell rushes in, pushing aside Bulldog, the massive bouncer. “Stop,” he yells, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Vittoria, baby, don’t listen to a word that woman says. She works for Crawford. She’s one of Hughes’ operatives.”

  Shit, shit, shit. Everything has suddenly gone wrong. I really hope Carter and Dominic are watching. I could use a rescue.

  Vittoria’s eyes narrow. “Is this true?”

  I start to reply, but the door flies open once again. I look up, relieved, but it’s not Carter there, and it’s not Dominic.

  It’s Ed Wagner, and he’s holding a baseball bat in his hands.

  Isn’t he supposed to be in the hospital?

  Ed rushes toward Mitchell. “You prick,” he screams. “You set your goons on me. They were going to beat me to death. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

  Mitchell whirls around. “Stop him,” he orders Bulldog. “Shoot him.”

  “Don’t do it, Bulldog,” Ed snaps. “If you shoot me, do you think Mitchell is going to shield you? The fucker will throw you under the bus. You know he will.”