Power Play - A MFMMM Reverse Harem Billionaire Romance (You Can't Resist a Bad Boy Book 6)

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Power Play - A MFMMM Reverse Harem Billionaire Romance (You Can't Resist a Bad Boy Book 6) Page 33

by Layla Valentine


  Sean carefully pulls the car into the driveway of what’s been our house for seven months now. He moved in with me as soon as he could, and we’ve spent months getting the place ready for our baby’s arrival. Still, in spite of all the planning, nothing could have prepared me for how it now feels to be bringing our baby home.

  Sean comes around to help me out of the car, and I take his hand, offering a smile in exchange. I still feel sore all over, and just walking around feels a little weird—but that doesn’t stop me from unbuckling Leo and lifting him out of his seat right away. Nothing can make me miss carrying my little boy into his new home for the first time.

  Sean rushes ahead of us, making sure I’m careful on the steps and opening the front door for me.

  “He’ll probably need to eat in about thirty minutes,” I say, adjusting the tiny yellow hat Kaila knitted for him.

  “Okay.” Sean’s voice sounds off, making me look up to see what’s the matter—and as soon as I do, I gasp.

  Sunflowers. Everywhere. Only…

  I take another step into the living room. They’re laid out across the floor, spelling something out.

  Will you marry me?

  I blink, reading the question again just to make sure I got it right the first time.

  “I… What the—” I fall silent, not even sure what I’m asking.

  Sean’s light touch on my arm brings me back to the moment. His green eyes shimmer with love as he looks down at me.

  “What do you say?”

  I look down at the baby in my arms, who’s just waking up and yawning. I look up at my best friend, my lover, the man I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with.

  The answer is clear as day, but I want to take my time and enjoy this moment. It will be one I’ll cherish forever. And, truth be told, life doesn’t get any better than this.

  “What do you think?” I gently tease.

  Sean grins. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

  “Yes,” I exhale.

  Taking both me and our baby into his arms, Sean kisses me, the touch of his lips everything I’ve been looking for my whole life.

  Chapter 25

  Sean

  The waves crash against the beach behind me, the soundtrack to the most perfect day. Standing on the edge of the water, though, I can only look at the scene in front of me: the two-story beach house with the wraparound porch that Violet and I bought once we realized we were going to need more room. The folding white chairs all lined up in the sand. Six-month-old Leo perched in Mom’s arms, making gurgling noises.

  I know I’m a damn lucky man. I hope I never forget it.

  “This is tight,” Frank grumbles from next to me. He winces and adjusts his bowtie.

  I laugh at him. “It’s a clip-on.”

  He scowls. “No, it’s not. I tied this shit myself. And all for your wedding day. Don’t you ever forget that.”

  “I won’t.” I nudge him with my elbow. “You look good, though.”

  “Yeah? How good? Think any of the bridesmaids will be interested?”

  “There’s just one. Kaila.”

  His eyes light up. “Violet’s assistant?”

  “Yeah, but don’t—”

  Before I can remind him that Violet will have his head on a stake if he breaks any of her friends’ hearts, the guitarist starts playing.

  This is it. My wedding is here.

  If you’d told me a year ago that I’d be tying the knot, I would have lost my mind laughing. Now, I couldn’t imagine things turning out any different.

  Each second passes in slow motion as I wait for my bride to appear. Out of the house and down the path to the beach comes Kaila, wearing pale pink and carrying a bouquet of sunflowers. And then—finally—Violet.

  The breath is stolen right out of me as she appears, golden hair fluttering on the breeze, the waistband of her flowing white dress decorated with seashells. Our gazes connect, and with each step she takes closer to me, the more I buzz.

  As she passes by Leo, he makes his ‘mommy’ sound. Violet gives him a wave and a smile, and I think my heart is about to explode from joy.

  Finally, she’s at the end of her walk, handing her bouquet over to Kaila and taking her spot by my side.

  There must be words spoken. Vows, even. I wrote them down on a slip of paper so I could read them off. But if all of that is happening, it’s going on in another world. For me, there’s only one thing: the beautiful blue eyes I could fall into.

  As I slip the ring onto Violet’s finger, I’m suddenly yanked back to reality. I’m married. We’re married.

  “Holy shit,” I breathe.

  Violet giggles. “Sean.”

  Her eyes dart over to the reverend, but I don’t so much as glance his way. I’m way too busy pulling Violet into my arms and kissing her like she belongs to me, like she’s my everything…because she does, and she is.

  Congratulations are passed around and pictures taken. The whole time, I hold tight to Violet’s hand. As the afternoon stretches on, we join our family and friends at the long tables in our backyard, where the excited chatter fills the air.

  Claiming my spot next to where Violet sits with Leo in her lap, I grab a champagne glass and raise it high. The yammering dies down as the guests take notice.

  “First of all,” I start, “I want to say thank you to everyone for coming today. It means a lot to me, and my beautiful wife.” I glance down at Violet, who is glowing. “To our parents.” I nod at the table the three of them sit at. “Thank you for everything. And, to my best man…”

  Frank puffs his chest up.

  “You can keep your gun collection,” I tell him. “I have everything I could ever need right here.” I give Violet and Leo another purposeful look before turning back to Frank. “Although, it you ever want to borrow my bike, just ask.”

  Frank rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Sean.”

  I sit back down amid puzzled looks.

  “No one knows what you’re talking about,” Violet whispers into my ear.

  “Yeah, but you do.” I hook my arm around her waist and kiss the top of Leo’s head, enjoying the blush creeping across my bride’s cheeks.

  Down the table, Kaila pulls a chair up right next to Frank. Violet also sees what’s happening and stiffens in my arms.

  “She’ll be fine,” I promise her.

  My wife gives me a doubtful look.

  “Kaila isn’t like other girls,” she whispers. “She doesn’t have as much…experience.”

  “Okay. I’ll take care of it.”

  Squeezing Violet’s leg, I get up. By the time I make it down the table, though, Frank and Kaila are nowhere to be found, nothing but vacant seats marking their absence.

  “Oh, come on,” I groan.

  Chasing down Frank and cock-blocking him is not how I planned on spending my wedding day, but Violet is right. Kaila is the opposite of Frank. She’s delicate and sensitive. She wouldn’t last a day in his hands.

  It takes five minutes to make it across the yard, since someone stops to congratulate me every other step, but I finally get to the porch. A familiar male voice sneaks around the side of the house, drawing me along the smooth boards.

  Keeping to the wall, I creep to the front of the house, which faces the foliage across the street. It’s an amazing neighborhood, with the nature I used to imagine myself living in, combined with a few neighbors within walking distance.

  At the corner of the house, I stop and peek around the side. Frank and Kaila are sitting on the steps, passing a bottle of beer back and forth.

  “He loves his squeaky bone the best,” Kaila is saying. “But it’s falling apart. I’m going to take him to the pet store tomorrow to let him pick out a new one.”

  “You should let me come with,” Frank answers. “You know, as a second opinion.”

  A long moment passes as Kaila, whose face I can’t see, looks at him.

  “Okay,” she finally says.

  “Cool.” Frank takes a swing o
f beer and evaluates Kaila. “You ever shoot a gun?”

  I roll my eyes. Now is about the time that I should step in and end this conversation, per Violet’s request, but something stops me.

  “No,” Kaila answers. “But I’ve always wanted to!”

  Frank chuckles. “I could tell there was something wild about you. You keep it hidden away, though.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kaila flirtatiously answers.

  She flips her hair over her shoulder, and Frank’s eyes follow every movement. His dark irises sparkle even in the quickly-dimming light, and his lips are slightly parted, as if he’s in awe.

  It’s a look I’ve never seen on him.

  Could it be… No. But maybe.

  Drawing away from the corner of the house, I slowly creep back along the deck so neither of them hears me. I never thought I’d see the day, but is it possible that Frank has found a girl he’s actually into? Someone he sees as more than a quick lay?

  I stop walking as the realization hits. Of course it’s possible. It happened to me, after all. In a matter of weeks, my entire life turned upside down. And, since then, I haven’t regretted the change for one second.

  My chest warms at the thought. Frank in love… It sounds crazy, but weirder things have happened. And, having found that very kind of happiness for myself, I can genuinely say I hope he gets a chance to experience it one day as well.

  “There you are.”

  The voice startles me, and I look down to see Violet hovering at the bottom step. Her hair is mussed—probably thanks to Leo—and her cheeks are flushed from all the excitement.

  “Can you wear that dress every day?” I ask, walking down the steps and pulling her into my arms.

  Her musical laughter caresses my ears.

  “I’m afraid it wouldn’t hold up for long with a six-month-old around.”

  “Where is young Leonardo?”

  “You dad has him.” She runs her fingers down the front of my suit and lowers her voice. “Did you find them?”

  “Yeah,” I quietly say.

  “And?”

  A burst of laughter comes from the front part of the porch, and Violet peers over my shoulder suspiciously.

  “I think they’re going to be just fine,” I say.

  Violet frowns. “But Kaila…”

  “Can take care of herself,” I finish.

  Violet slowly acquiesces, nodding. “If Frank does anything to hurt her—”

  “You’ll more than take care of him,” I chuckle.

  “You know I will,” she devilishly answers, then tugs at my hand. “Come on. Let’s get back to the reception.”

  “Not just yet.”

  She doesn’t resist as I guide her away from the backyard and down one of the little trails to the beach. The sun is about to set, casting its hazy glow on the ocean and the sand. Violet kicked her shoes off long ago, and she steps right up to the water, lifting her dress so the waves can gently lap at her toes. I stand a few feet away, hands in my pockets, my gaze tethered to the beautiful woman.

  Brushing some of her loose hair from her face, she looks over to me.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Not thinking,” I quietly say. “Just…”

  “Feeling?” She grins.

  “Exactly.”

  She comes to me at the same moment I reach for her, slipping into my arms like she was made for them. And, apparently, she was. It just took me a long time to figure that out.

  Holding Violet in front of me, I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my head against hers. Behind us, the people we love talk and laugh, their joy filling our home with promises of even more happiness to come. In front of us, the ocean shimmers with the setting sun and a future designed for us.

  The End

  What will the next two years bring for Sean and Violet?

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  Theirs To Share

  Layla Valentine & Ana Sparks

  Ready to go again?

  Our previous MFM romance, Theirs to Share, is up next!

  Copyright 2018 by Layla Valentine and Ana Sparks

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.

  All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  “Come on, come on.”

  Squeezing my fingers around my oversized satchel bag, I tap my heel against the floor of the elevator. The anxious tic does nothing to speed things up.

  It’s my second week at my first, real adult job. My sixth day. And I’m ten minutes late.

  I check the time on my wristwatch, noting the painful tick of the second hand. Finally, finally the door opens with a ding.

  Throwing myself onto the sixth floor of the building, which houses the main offices of the Franciscan Tribune, I rush past the shiny front desk and down the hallway. Phones ring, keyboards click, and reporters, editors, and interns exhale headlines like oxygen. It’s the kind of atmosphere I thrive on. It’s what I’ve been spending my whole life looking forward to.

  It’s why I can’t screw this up.

  Reaching my tiny cubicle in the open-working space, I collapse into my swivel chair and deposit my purse on the carpet. If I’m lucky, no one saw me come in late. If I’m even luckier, no one cares.

  Powering up my computer, I surreptitiously scan the room. No one so much as looks my way.

  Thank God.

  No sooner have I let out a relieved exhale, though, than I feel someone hovering nearby.

  “Good morning, Noelle,” comes the clipped voice.

  It’s Graham, my editor. He leans against the fragile cubicle wall, his striped tie falling over the divide. Every muscle in my body freezes.

  “Good morning.” I force a smile. Did he see me come in late?

  “You look nice today.”

  The way he says it, it sounds like an insult.

  I glance down at my cream-colored pencil skirt, polka-dot blouse, and red heels. There’s nothing inappropriate about my outfit… At least I don’t think so.

  But maybe I’m wrong. Four years of college and a year waiting tables didn’t exactly prepare me to dress for success. And it’s street fashion blogs that I get my ideas from.

  Maybe I’m too creative with my outfits. Maybe they’re too loud. Or my skirts are too tight.

  Or is it my makeup? I shouldn’t have tried out that new smoky eye, dang it! This isn’t a club. This is an office. This is…

  “The boss wants to see you,” Graham says coolly, looking over my head like he’s already bored with me.

  “Huh?”

  “Yeah.” His lips press together. “I know. The elusive Ethan Ford Jr. Who even knew he existed, right?”

  My stomach drops.

  “Do you know why he wants to see me?”

  Also, how does he even know who I am? I’m an underling at the paper, a fledgling reporter whose biggest story so far is an article about the local nut festival—a succinct 400-word piece that ran on the last page of the paper, right next to the advertisement for a carpet cleaning service.

  Graham shrugs. “Didn’t say. But he’s in the boardroom waiting for you.”

  Before I can pump him for any more information, he’s gone, and I’m left staring at my computer screen.

  My hands shake in my lap, and I press them together to get them to stop. Ethan Ford Jr… I’ve done my research on him. He’s a mega-billionaire, born into media royalty. His father, the Ethan Ford most of the world knows b
est, died several years ago. His son promptly took over most of the family’s assets, including one national paper and numerous smaller ones, the Franciscan Tribune being the most recent one Junior has added to his list.

  Though the internet is mostly composed of stats on Ethan Ford’s business success, the hallways and cubicles of the Franciscan Tribune are filled with something else entirely.

  Callous. Stifled. Pompous.

  Those are the nice adjectives people use to describe Ethan Ford. I’ve never met him myself, but hearing others talk about him hasn’t exactly given me any faith in his possessing a glowing personality.

  Closing my eyes, I take in a long, cleansing breath, then stand. As much as I don’t want to go into that boardroom, delaying it will only make things worse.

  Hugging a fresh notebook and my phone to my chest, I make the too-short trek to the boardroom. Its longest wall is floor-to-ceiling glass, and as I get closer I see the one person in it. His hands are clasped behind his back and he looks out the window, his back turned to me.

  You can do this, Noelle. Just smile and nod. Smile and nod.

  Steeling myself, I knock on the boardroom’s open door.

  Mr. Ford unclasps his hands and turns around.

  And my jaw nearly hits the floor.

  The man standing on the other side of the long, polished table is nothing that I expected him to be. While some suits hang loosely on men, hiding their best assets, Mr. Ford’s does the opposite, his tailored outfit accentuating his broad shoulders and firm chest. His hair is dark, his eyes brown and large. A square jaw is covered with just the right amount of stubble—the amount that makes you wonder just what it would feel like to have that stubble scrapping along the inside of your thigh.

  Heat fills my face, and I clear my throat. Words, words. I must know a few of them…

  “Noelle Edwards?”

  His brow furrows together. Uh-oh. Thirty seconds in the boardroom and I’ve already done something wrong.

 

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