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by R. R. Banks


  Jackson had a quizzical expression on his face as he walked toward me, carrying a tiny bourbon-soaked cupcake in one hand.

  "What are you doing over here?" he asked. "I thought that you needed to go check with the rental company about the table decorations."

  "I did."

  "So what are you doing now?"

  I gestured for him to come stand beside me and then nodded toward Gabrielle. She tossed her head back as she laughed, her glossy dark hair falling in waves down her back. The sound was free and unrestrained, like a glimpse of what was really inside of her rather than the terse, measured laughs that we usually heard from the women who roamed the Club. They had been raised to be polished and sophisticated, to impress people with everything that they did. While they were happy to climb into bed with any of us, they weren't willing to open up, to show us their true personality.

  Gabrielle, however, was different. She had been somewhat shy when she first came in, but soon she relaxed and I felt like with every moment that passed she was opening up more to us. The attraction building among us was obvious and when I caught her eyes, I could see the curiosity and the draw.

  "Look at her," I said.

  He followed my gaze and nodded.

  "She's amazing," he said. "I've thought so since the first time that I saw her."

  "She's what we're looking for," I said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "You know exactly what I mean. Think about it. She has everything that we talked about. She's gorgeous. She's strong. She's smart."

  "We don't know anything about her."

  "We know enough for now. We know enough to talk to her about it."

  Aiden approached us, giving me the same strange look that Jackson had given me as he came up.

  "Gabrielle just asked if there's going to be coffee at the gala," he said. "What are you two over here talking about?"

  "Our plan," I said. "Have you thought about it any more?"

  "I have," he said. "I was thinking that maybe we should talk to Julie Banes."

  "Julie?" I asked. "Are you serious?"

  "What?" Aiden asked. "She's always available and always very willing. She comes from one of the more powerful families from the Club."

  "Do you really want your child to someday ask you to tell them about their mother and your response to be 'she was always available and always very willing'?" I asked. "Besides, it doesn't matter what family she comes from. We're not marrying her. This is about our family. With a family like the Banes, we'd be fighting for custody and arguing over inheritance and their stake of our estate before the baby was even born."

  "You're right," Aiden said. "She's a terrible choice. Maybe I should cancel my meeting with her tonight."

  "You already set a meeting up with her?" I asked.

  My youngest brother shrugged.

  "I thought that I could go ahead and get a jump on it."

  "That's an interesting choice of words," I said.

  "Gabrielle," Jackson said, gesturing at her. "What do you think about her?"

  Aiden turned to look at her and let out a long breath.

  "I'm having trouble keeping my hands off her," he admitted. "I want to paint the dictionary all over her and see how many new words I can find with my tongue."

  "So what about her?" I asked.

  "Her?" Aiden asked. "You want Gabrielle to be the mother of our child?"

  Jackson gave a short laugh.

  "I'd like to at least give it a shot," he said.

  "Me, too," Aiden said.

  "She's perfect," I said. "All of us want her. Look at Lucas. His fingers are practically twitching he wants to touch her so badly. After she leaves, we'll talk to him and see what he thinks. If he's in agreement, then she's the one."

  My brothers smiled and we all looked at Gabrielle again, our minds dancing with all of the delectable ways that we could try to bring our plan into reality. I couldn't wait to get started.

  An hour later Gabrielle had packed up the containers that she had brought the samples in, leaving behind the few little bits of chocolate that were remaining, and we walked her to her car. I made sure that we took a fairly rambling path weaving through the Club so that she could see more of it. Seeing the type of lifestyle that was available to her and to our future child might help to sway her toward agreeing to our arrangement, though I didn't get the impression from her that she would ever be the type of woman to become fixated on money or to lose herself to the draw of a more luxurious lifestyle. But having access to more money and comfort than she ever dreamed was something that very few people would turn their backs on.

  As soon as she left, I looked at Lucas.

  "We need to talk," I said.

  He looked back at me solemnly.

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  I looked back toward the Club, noticing that more people were starting to arrive for the late afternoon and evening activities. Even though we had our private wing where no other guests were permitted unless we expressly invited them and accompanied them, I wasn't so dumb as to think that that actually meant that we were alone or that anything that we said in that place was truly private. Some of the other families in the Club were so blinded and influenced by their own wealth that they seemed to float somewhere just short of reality, ignoring what was really happening around them. It was those people who believed that when they walked into their private gathering rooms they were actually alone, that they weren't being listened to or watched by the staff that roamed through the hidden hallways, or even other members of the Club who knew how to learn things that they wanted to know about others. My brothers and I had already revealed too much talking about our father's will in the Club. The only place where we might be really alone was in the bedrooms located in our wing, but I would be more comfortable at home.

  "Let's go back to the house."

  I took my phone from my pocket and sent a message to our driver. A few minutes later we walked through the front entrance of the Club and got into the car. None of us spoke a word until we got home, but as soon as we were in the living room, I looked at Lucas.

  "Gabrielle," I said.

  He looked at me strangely.

  "What about her?" he asked.

  "She's the one," I said.

  "The one?" he asked. He looked at each of our brothers and then back at me, his eyes widening slightly. "Her?" he asked.

  His voice had risen and I knew that he knew exactly what I was talking about.

  "Gabrielle?" he asked.

  "Don't you want her?" I asked.

  "Of course, I do," he said. "You saw her."

  "She's exactly what we're looking for," Aiden said.

  "Smart, sexy, funny...not in a family that will try to use our arrangement as leverage to try to get them to a better social standing."

  "I get the feeling that social standing isn't what matters to her family," Jackson said.

  "Look," I said. "All four of us want her. That's enough right there for me to want to get her in my bed, but she has everything else that we wanted, too. She is perfect. She's exactly the woman I would want to be the mother of my child."

  Lucas nodded.

  "She would be perfect," he said. "But I wonder if she would go for it."

  "He's right," Aiden said. "We don't know if she has what it takes to have all of us and agree to the type of arrangement that we want."

  "Then we have to ask her," Lucas said.

  "How do we ask a question like that?" Jackson said.

  "We don't," I said. "Not at first."

  "What do you mean?" Lucas asked.

  "We don't have to just spring it on her," I said. "The first thing that we need to figure out is if she would be willing to be with all four of us. If that's not something that she's interested in, if she's not interested in us or has something against being with more than one person at a time, then we don't even need to go any further with her."

  "He's right," Aiden said. "If we sit her down and start telling her
about what's going on and asking her whether she would be willing to be involved, and she isn't interested, she could go and tell anybody who'll listen."

  "I don't give a fuck what anybody thinks," I said.

  "Neither do I," Aiden said, "but the last thing we need is for girls to start throwing themselves at us so we'll choose them."

  "Of course, because we've always been morally opposed to women throwing themselves at us," I said.

  "You know what I mean. We don't need some desperate, clingy chick wanting us to sweep her off her feet because she hears that we want a baby."

  "So first we find out if she's interested in us. We warm her up a little. Then if she's still what we're looking for, we talk to her about the arrangement."

  "How are we going to do that?" Lucas asked.

  "Jackson," I said.

  "Why him?" Aiden asked, obviously offended I hadn't suggested him for the role.

  "He met her first," I said. "If she's going to be comfortable with any of us, it's going to be Jackson."

  "I thought that the goal was for her to be comfortable with all of us," Aiden said.

  "It is," Lucas said. "And she will be. Jackson will ask her out and start warming her up, and then the rest of us will just ease our way into the situation."

  "I don't want to ease into shit," I said. "She is far too sexy for me to take too much time. I want her as soon as possible."

  My brothers made sounds of agreement and I felt my stomach tightening at the thoughts that had started making their way into my mind as soon as I saw her lush little body in that short black dress.

  Chapter Seven

  Gabrielle

  The next day I was back at the shop, the 'closed' sign on the door, but the kitchen humming with activity, as I had every appliance going trying to get everything made for the gala. I had called Skylar that morning, pleading for her to come help me, but one of her children was sick and her husband wasn't able to get away for the day to take care of them. She apologized over and over, but the sound of the whimpering baby in the background and the worry in her voice trying to rush me off of the phone told me that being here with me was the last thing on her mind. And rightfully so. She was exactly where she should be. I was the one that was two truffles and a pot of edible body paint away from being completely without a chance of finishing on time.

  I heard a light knock on the door and I didn't bother to look up from the display case where I was storing trays of truffles to set. I gestured at the door, hoping that whoever it was who was standing there would notice the 'Closed' sign. I was counting the bourbon-filled chocolates, making sure that I had made as many as I thought I had even after an incident involving the toe of my shoe, in a fit of irony, catching on the edge of the non-slip mat and sending several of the candies soaring across the kitchen, when I heard a more insistent knock.

  I sighed.

  "We're closed," I shouted.

  Who is 'we'?

  The knock came again and I let out a distinctly more growling sigh before looking up. The unladylike string of words that was about to come out of my mouth stopped sharply when I saw Jackson standing on the other side of the door. He waved at me and I made an apologetic face as I came around the counter toward the door.

  "I'm sorry," I said, opening the door and stepping out of the way so that he could come inside. "I didn't know it was you. Why didn't you call me?"

  "I tried to," he said. "You didn't answer."

  I stuck my hand in the pocket of my apron but didn't find my phone. I felt my pockets, and then paused.

  "Did you lose your phone?" he asked.

  "Honestly," I said, "at this point, I'm just hoping that I didn't drop it in the vat of buttercream."

  He laughed as I dropped my head back and started for the kitchen.

  "Are you doing OK?" he asked. "You're not overwhelmed are you?"

  I didn't want him to think that I couldn't handle the job and risk him calling in reinforcements to take some of the work, and some of my commission, so I plastered on a smile and looked back at him.

  "No, not at all," I said. "I'm just tackling a lot of things today. It's going really well."

  I hoped that I sounded convincing enough, but I didn't have a chance to see his reaction. I turned back around and went into the kitchen and by the time that I turned around to look at him, I noticed that he wasn't right behind me anymore. I walked back up to the door and pushed it open, finding him standing right where I had left him

  "I lost you," I said. "You can come in here. See where all the magic happens."

  He gave a quick smile but shook his head.

  "I can't," he said. "I actually have to get to a meeting."

  "Oh," I said. "OK."

  I didn't understand why he would come to the shop and be so insistent on coming in if he wasn't planning on staying for more than a couple of minutes.

  "I just wanted to ask if you wanted to get together after the gala."

  I felt frozen in place, stunned by the request.

  Did he just ask me out?

  I didn't know how to react. Inside I was bouncing, thrilled by him wanting to spend more time with me. On the outside, though, I stayed casual. It was entirely possible that he just wanted to talk about another party or event that he wanted me to cater. At this point, I had provided chocolates for his clients and his brother's birthday and was feverishly preparing for a gala that was apparently one of the most important social events of the year for the incredibly exclusive Westchester Club. I had somehow stumbled into being his chocolate connection so it seemed only logical that he may want to talk about another event. If I was to gush over spending time with him only to find out that he just wanted to go over another business opportunity I might just have to either die of embarrassment or become a hermit, whichever felt more appropriate in the moment.

  "Sure," I finally said.

  However this turned out, I figured that there were plenty of other worse ways that I could spend Valentine's Day, considering I was alone. Spending some extra time looking at this sexy man cultivating the deliciously dirty thoughts I had about Jackson and his brothers was a much more appealing prospect than anything I could be binge-watch.

  He gave a single nod

  "Good." He started toward the door, but then turned back to me. "I wanted to mention...the guys and I were thinking that since it's going to be such a late night, maybe you should stay over the night of the gala."

  "Stay over?" I asked.

  Was this a slumber party situation?

  "At the Club. We'll make sure that you have a room ready for you in our family's private wing."

  "Private wing?"

  "It's less impressive than it sounds. The founding families just have sections of the Club set aside for their private use. Ours has a lounge and a couple of bedrooms. We'll make sure that one of them is ready for you so that you can just sleep there that night."

  Because that doesn't sound at all impressive.

  "Alright," I said, unsure of what else to say.

  He gave another short nod and headed out of the shop. I followed and locked the door, leaning close to the glass to watch him walk down the sidewalk toward a sleek black car waiting for him. I went back to the kitchen, excitement filling me at the thought of not only spending time with Jackson after the gala but sleeping in his family's private wing.

  The day of the gala came far too quickly for my liking and an hour after I should have left the shop with the last of the desserts, I was still hastily packing them into my car and trying not to worry that the ones I had sent ahead in the vans that the brothers had rented had been crushed or slung around during transit to the Club. Finally, I had the last cupcake carrier secured with seatbelt into the backseat and hopped behind the wheel. My original timeline had had me arriving at the Club with plenty of time to start setting up the chocolates and desserts, then go settle into my room for the night and get ready, and still be able to supervise the final touch
es of the gala and be ready to start welcoming guests. At this rate, however, I would be lucky if I could toss my trays into the ballroom, slither into my dress, throw some makeup in the general direction of my face, and make it to the gala in time to watch some stuff rich people paint each other with chocolate.

  I considered not going. I thought that perhaps I should just call Jackson and tell him that I would drop off the desserts but wouldn't be able to be there for the gala. As soon as I thought that, however, I realized that that wasn't really an option. I had already promised that I would stay near some of the stations and answer questions about the desserts. They were expecting me to be there, and he was expecting to see me after. I couldn't bow out just because I was running late.

  I handed the gatekeeper the credential that Jackson had given me, feeling much more official than I had my first visit when I had to tell him my name and wait for him to check a list on a clipboard, and then drove around the Club looking for the vans. When I finally found them I saw uniformed staff scurrying back and forth carrying the trays and boxes I had carefully packed inside. Watching them go in underscored the sheer volume of sweets I had crafted over the last week and I allowed myself a few moments of self-indulgent satisfaction before sliding into place behind the vans and jumping out. Two men appeared at my side.

  "Can we help you?" one of them asked.

  I had the distinct feeling that they had been stationed outside the service door for the express purpose of assisting me when I finally got there. I pointed toward the backseat.

  "If you could grab those things and bring them inside. Please be careful."

  I ran around to the passenger side door and took out my garment bag and overnight bag before scurrying inside.

  "Gabrielle!"

  I turned toward the sound of my name and saw Aiden coming toward me. My eyes locked on his vivid green gaze.

  "I'm sorry I'm running late," I said. "I just need to get ready really fast."

  "It's alright," he said with a smile. "Don't worry. The party starts when we say it does. Let me show you to the room that we chose for you."

  Feeling relieved that he wasn't angry with me, I nodded and followed him as he led me through back hallways until we reached an elaborate arched wooden door. He reached into his pocket and took out a large key. Unlocking the door, he held it open for me and gestured for me to go inside. The door closed heavily behind us and Aiden stepped in front of me to lead me down the narrower hallway. I watched our feet walk down the thick navy blue carpeting and wondered what this portion of the building must have looked like when the club was first established. It was obvious that many modern touches and luxuries had been added throughout the entirety of the Club over the years, but much of the aged charm and mystery remained. The room that Aiden finally showed me was the perfect example of that.

 

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