The right of Gemma Mazurke to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Copyright © Gemma Mazurke 2018
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Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
PERRY AND HER PRINCES
With thanks…
To Mum.
For making this insanity possible.
To Dylan.
For making me realize this kind of love was possible.
Chapter One
The keys were in her hand before she knew what was happening.
From the kitchen, there was silence. Her father wasn’t shouting after her. Wasn’t even calling her name. He’d dropped the bombshell of the century moments before, and was seemingly content for her to just run off.
It shouldn’t have stung. It really shouldn’t have, not when she was the one running away, but it did.
A frenzy was whipping and stirring in her head with the force of a twister. It was nothing to the migraines she’d been enduring since she’d been hit by a damn car, but she feared she’d reached her breaking point.
Sascha Dubois was made of strong stuff, but after learning the truth of her heritage, enough was enough.
Though she wanted to slam the door to the five-story Kensington villa, Sascha knew it would have the men who lived within its hallowed walls flocking to her.
Not only were those men her employers, they were more. They were her lovers.
She loved them, and as far as she could figure out, they loved her. Some had told her, others were watchful of their tongues. But love didn’t have to be spoken to be felt. To be shown.
That thought was grounding, and that sensation brought with it relief because in the whole amount of crazy that was going down, they were there to keep her balanced.
The rest of her life might as well have been up in the air, but they weren’t. They were solid.
Real.
Still, for all her strength, her hands and knees were shaking as she almost fell down the five steps that led to the front door.
Normally, the grand entrance, even after all these months of living here, had the power to stun her with its magnificence, but that was of no interest to her now as she staggered down the steps. Her Cadillac was her final destination.
It was a beacon of normalcy in this swanky zip code. A bright bolt of retro pizazz amid the exclusive sports cars and high-end sedans. It stuck out like a sore thumb, so when she looked at it, she couldn’t fail to see the man standing beside it too.
Devon.
Her bright bolt of mathematical pizazz.
He was slouched against the car, resting his arms on the roof. They were folded there, and he’d pressed his chin to them to prop his head up as he watched her scurry towards him.
She came to an abrupt halt at the sight of him beside her vehicle. Of course, that had to be in the middle of the road, didn’t it?
A car purred to a stop in front of her; the driver glaring at her then tooting his horn as she started in surprise, realizing the dumbass place she’d decided to put on the brakes was in the center of the goddamn street.
Apparently, she had a death wish where cars were concerned.
Mouthing sorry, she ducked in between the cars to hit the sidewalk, then carried on walking toward her Caddy.
A lack of parking was a major issue here. The residences had been constructed in a time where a two-car family wasn’t exactly a ‘thing’. That meant the streets had permits, and she had to park her beloved Baby outside and uncovered.
“What are you doing out here, Devon?” she asked somberly. It was probably the first time since she’d moved into their home that she wasn’t excited to see one of the five best boyfriends a girl could ever have.
She didn’t want to talk to any of them, and that was a testament to how addled her brain was. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, but getting out of here was imperative.
“I’m here for you,” he said simply, but nothing about Devon was simple.
He was a math genius. And even that was an understatement. A Nobel Prize winner, a code cracker for MI6, there was no ordinary title that fit this man, because he was anything but ordinary.
“I-I need to get out of here.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
She winced. “I doubt that.”
“I heard.” His grimace said it all. “I eavesdropped, I’m afraid. Sorry about that.”
“That’s unlike you to say sorry,” she murmured absentmindedly. And it was the truth.
He rarely apologized. Not because he was a douche, but because he just… Well, didn’t.
There was always a reason behind his actions, and that reason was always logical and rational. Which meant there was no need for him to apologize because his actions were well thought out and, therefore, reasonable.
Yeah, it could be hard being with a man like that. One who saw everything in such stark lines of black and white. Gray didn’t exist for Devon. It wasn’t even on the color spectrum for him.
“If I’d wanted privacy, then I guess we should have gone to another room,” she justified on his behalf, and when he nodded, knew that was how he justified eavesdropping, too.
It was a good thing he was gorgeous, and sweet—it was the sweetness that got to her most—because otherwise, he’d be so goddamn irritating, she’d have wanted to slap his face all the time.
But gorgeous he was with his inky black hair and come-to-bed eyes. His strong form was usually covered in ratty jeans that showcased his taut ass to perfection, and old tees that were washed and better washed, but were soft and clung to his stomach and arms.
She’d never known a man to wear the clothes of a beggar and somehow still look like a prince.
Shaking her head at the lofty thought, she murmured, “I need a time out.”
“I know where to go,” he reasoned.
“I-I need to be alone, Devon.”
He shook his head. “That’s the last thing you need, Sascha darling.”
Her eyes widened at the term of endearment. The others called her pet names, but Devon rarely did unless he was parroting them.
Sometimes, it was like living with a robot. The way he processed things, she could be forgiven for likening him to highly advanced AI, but every now and then, he reminded her
he was flesh and blood. Usually in the bedroom. Her core clenched at the too few memories she had of him in that way.
A concussion had put a stop to her love life. Which was really fucking irritating when she had five sex Gods all ready and willing to service her at just a word.
She almost pouted, and then realized how ridiculous that was when her father’s revelation was still being processed by her lagging reserves.
“Get in,” she whispered as she unlocked Baby’s doors, another car’s presence on the side of the road prompting her to get in or be run over. Again.
He climbed inside as she settled behind the wheel. With the door closed and her no longer moving, the chill of the day hit her, and she realized she hadn’t worn a coat. But clothes had been the last thing on her mind when she’d stormed out of the house.
The interior of the car was as vintage as could be. Almost like stepping back into another era. But it was chilly and damp from the miserable day outside. And without anything covering her arms, she had no choice but to start the engine for some heat. Mere moments before, she’d wanted nothing more than to run away, but now? Here, with him, she just wanted to sit there with her head on the wheel and pretend the last hour had never happened.
Silence filled the cab when the heat came on at last. Both of them quiet, not exactly speechless, just hesitant to speak.
Sascha stared blindly ahead at the car in front of her. Rain spattered against her windshield and the vehicle in front’s back window, making rivulets spout down the curvy backside of the canary yellow sports car.
Devon jerked her attention from the riveting display before her; “Sascha? Would you like me to drive?”
Her lips twitched, and it relieved her that she could feel amusement at a time when she was so overloaded with numbness, even tears were far away. “You just want to get your hands on Baby.”
Pathetic, but she’d nicknamed the car years before when her father had given her the Cadillac in the vain hope she wouldn’t wreck this one as she’d wrecked the others she’d driven after getting her license.
The vintage vehicle had indeed inspired caution in her driving. Getting even so little as a scratch would have infuriated her after she’d saved up for months to get a custom paint job to take the once-rickety vehicle back to its original colors.
“Well, I would like to drive it, but at the same time, I’m not sure we’re going to get far if you keep staring at the wheel instead of steering it.”
She sighed. “When aren’t you rational, Devon?”
“Probably never. There’s always a rational response to everything.”
“There is? What about my situation?” she asked softly, deciding to do as she wanted—rest her forehead on the wheel. Rolling on her forehead so she could look at him rather than at nothing, she waited for his answer.
He shrugged. “It’s a relief to know there’s a reason for someone targeting you. It was chaos before, Sascha,” he told her somewhat earnestly. “We knew you were in danger, but had no idea why. At least now, it makes sense. And where there’s sense, there’s comfort.”
“There is?” she asked, a bitter laugh falling from her lips. “So why don’t I feel comforted?”
“Because you’re still processing. You’ve lived a lie, Sascha. But it was a kind lie,” he argued. “I wish I’d led a kind lie rather than dealt with the bitter truth of reality.”
She frowned. “You really mean that?”
He blinked, his surprise at her questioning him evident. “I really do.”
“Why though? Everything I know, it’s all… nothing was real.”
He shook his head. “Of course it was real. If anything, you’ve had more love showered on you as a result of the truth, Sascha. A man, dying, gave his everything to wipe out your identity to protect you. A woman, hired as an employee, gave her everything to take you from all she knew to another country.
“There, she married a man who was bound by the law to keep you safe. You were sheltered from the day you were born. Cosseted by love from a family you didn’t know, and then embraced by a new one who chose to love you. Because, from everything you’ve told me about your mom, she loved you.”
Sascha’s bottom lip trembled as she nodded. “She did.”
“She did nothing out of pity or avarice, did she?”
She closed her eyes to blank out the resolve in his face. There was no hiding from Devon. The truth was his haven, and when you were with him, you had no choice but to embrace it too.
“She loved me,” Sascha confirmed, because he was right.
Whoever she’d been to Sascha upon her birth, Natasha had dedicated herself to her adopted child.
Never missing a school play, never failing to soothe a hurt, and never missing a single night to tuck her into bed. Only death had altered her dedication, and even Sascha in her weak state of mind couldn’t fault her mom for that. Because there were only two labels that fit Natasha Dubois—wife to Henry, mother to Sascha.
“And your father…he took on that responsibility, Sascha,” Devon continued, his voice inexorable. Were she in a different mood, she would have hated him for his calm deliberation, but in this, she knew he was making her realize that the truth didn’t have to hurt so badly. “He loved your mother and you. Never letting your past come out and always protecting you.”
“I wonder why he let me move to England,” she whispered raggedly. “It must have been the last place he wanted me to go.” Then, she admitted after sucking in a breath, “Not that I’d have let him change my mind. Even when I realized something weird was going on because my visa wasn’t a requirement, I didn’t care. I wanted to come here, so I came here. Never questioning, like a stupid bitch, just being grateful that I didn’t have to worry about too much crazy admin.”
“You weren’t talking to him when you moved?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t approve of my boyfriend. Thought he was flaky, and he was right. But that didn’t matter at the time.” She let out a shaky breath. “I was so mad at him, I didn’t even ask about mom’s past. About why I’d never known she had an English passport. Then, over the years, we spoke so little, and my life changed and became even busier that it didn’t matter. I was just grateful not to have to worry about a visa to stay here.”
Devon murmured, “You were myopic.”
She flinched. “Ouch.”
He shrugged. “Most young people are.”
“I can’t imagine you were short-sighted even when you were a bratty ten-year-old,” she retorted, a little stung by the harshness of his opinion—not that it was delivered cruelly. Anything but. He’d spoken with his usual blandness. A lack of tone that somehow was all the more evocative for it.
“I had Sawyer from when I was fourteen. Then, I met the others at university. They saved me from short-sightedness. They were my protectors,” he mused, a vague smile curling about his lips as he stared ahead, seeing a world she could only begin to imagine.
One where math ruled, not the heart.
Well, not until she’d come along and ruffled up their worlds.
“How did you meet Sawyer?” she asked softly, curious to know more from his point of view.
“You really want to talk about this now?” he asked, cocking a brow.
She nodded. “I don’t want to think about what’s happening.”
He pursed his lips. “Let’s go to that coffee shop you like. Rossi’s?”
She shot him a surprised look. “Are you sure?”
“Wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.”
“Devon, it’s okay. We can stay here.”
“I know we can. But we don’t have to,” came his calm response. By not a flicker of his expression did he reveal that this would be the second time in close to thirty days that he’d left the house.
This afternoon, they’d gone to the clinic for her to get the all clear, and after, to Harrods.
Two trips out after a month’s reclusiveness was mind boggling to her.
D
evon sighed, but the sound wasn’t impatient. “What’s wrong, Sascha? Why aren’t we moving?”
“A-Aren’t you feeling nervous?” she asked, gesturing to the house. “You hardly ever leave this place.”
He shrugged. “So? It’s by choice, not because I’m tied to my chair.”
“I know that,” she retorted with a huff. “I just mean… you don’t have to do anything that makes you uneasy for my sake.”
“If there was anyone I’d risk anything for, it’s you, Sascha,” he told her simply, seemingly unaware of the power he gave her with that one statement. Her heart fluttered in her chest as he continued, “I don’t like people, so I stay at home. You, however, don’t wish to stay at home, so we’ll go somewhere you’re comfortable.”
She blinked dazedly at him, then admitted on a whisper, “Devon?” When his attention was aimed her way, she carried on, “I love you.”
Had she not been studying him, she’d have failed to see the tiny response of his eyelids growing heavy as a result of her soft declaration.
“You know my feelings go beyond that. But,” he said on a sigh, pressing a hand to her knee, “I love you too. Now, drive before the cavalry comes. When dinner isn’t served, they’ll all come out looking for you.”
She bit her lip. “Maybe we should just stay here.”
“No. You ran out for a reason. Let’s stick with your original instinct. It’s good to trust in them. You needed out, so out we’ll go.”
She gnawed at her bottom lip with her teeth, then nodded and set the car into gear.
The low purr of the engine soothed something inside her. When she was out on the road, the tightness in her chest eased. He was right. She did need to get away. Not from the men, per se. Not even from her father. But the house. It was her base here, and she needed a break from it. Just a breather.
Devon was silent as they drove into central London, darting here and there as she took a shortcut that would take her to her favorite café in the city.
It was close to five, and the streets were rammed with pedestrians heading for the underground. Roads heralded gleaming black taxis, which swerved to collect new fares, the vehicles’ solid bodies more like a tank than a streamlined car. Businessmen and women in sharp suits and carrying expensive briefcases walked amongst beggars sleeping against doorways and buskers singing out their souls for the price of a chocolate bar.
Loved by Them_A Reverse Harem Romance Page 1