Charmed by Them: A Reverse Harem Romance (Quintessence Book 1)

by Serena Akeroyd

  “That’s how it started?”

  Sean nodded. “Devon isn’t capable of feeling jealous. He and Sawyer are very close. They’ve been together since they met at a kind of convention for young mathematicians.” He waved a hand. “Ask them about it. They’ll tell you. Anyway, Janna came on to Sawyer, they started sleeping together. Pretty soon, she’d worked her way around all of us, and we didn’t mind. She seemed to enjoy herself, knew the score, and never expected anything from us. We were very appreciative of her extending her charms without fuss.”

  Sascha snorted. “Men. You’re all the same when it boils down to it.”

  Sean pulled a face at the accuracy of her words. “Take pity on us. We were nineteen at the time.”

  She conceded that with an eye roll.

  “Anyway, we thought nothing of it. Enjoyed ourselves, and then eventually, she moved out. I can’t even remember why. She was with us for nine months though. A long time. We didn’t realize she’d taken pictures, why would we? Devon had told her he was working on something, and she, the clever, manipulative little bitch that she was and undoubtedly still is, realized the real-world implications of his work. She knew, some day, he’d be rich.”

  “She blackmailed him!” The astonishment lining her tone, as well as the disgust, appeased some dark need within Sean’s nature.

  He’d always hated that they’d left the situation with Janna as unresolved as they had, but with little to no choice, he’d just had to let it lie.

  “Yes. She did. She blackmailed us all in the end. Only, we didn’t realize it of course. Devon, having received her little demand, saw no reason to be ashamed of the fact she’d been sleeping with all of us. That the master creator of this incredible new algorithm that changed the way we deal with AI technology, had a kinky sex life was of no importance to him. It had happened, it was the truth, and if the rest of the world had a problem with it, tough shit.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Yes.” God, those days had been shitty. Just talking about them filled him with unease. “She went to the papers. We sued. Managed to get the story under lock and key though. Cost us enough. There was a small buzz at the time, but it died a death. Thank God. A year later, Kurt released his first book. I started consulting… etc. Etc.”

  “Okay, so I understand a little now.”

  He blew out a breath. “The truth is, Sascha, we liked living that way. Devon, especially. To him, we’re family. He wants us to be happy. But, as they did back then, women get in the way. They demand things. They’re over emotional.

  “Of course, this is when it comes to us. Not with him. But he’s witnessed that, and in his bizarre mind, has processed the thought that if we all share a singular woman, one able to be with all of us, we will be happy, and, more importantly…”

  “You’ll always stay together.”

  He nodded, impressed by her perception. “More than anything, this… salon, as you called it during your interview, it keeps him stable. We’re all clever men, Sascha. I won’t lie to you about that. But Devon?”

  “He’s special. I know.”

  Sean shook his head. “He’s more than special. He’s unique. His intellect is beyond…” He grimaced. “The man solves impossible math puzzles for fun. What he develops for work will change the world as we know it. But, that comes at a price.

  “Not only is he like a child in many ways…”

  “A horny one, by the sounds of it.”

  Relief welled as he heard the teasing note to her tone. “Well, that too. But, he’s an insomniac. He gets hardly any sleep. That’s why Sawyer has him on this insane, chemical-free diet.”

  “He mentioned the ‘no-sugar’ thing. It’s why I used honey for us all.”

  “Sawyer will comment upon that soon enough. He’ll get you on Stevia or some shit like that.” He grunted. “As far as I can tell, it’s not helping Devon sleep… but, it makes Sawyer feel better, and because he’s the main ‘keeper’ of Devon’s sanity, we allow him full sway.”

  “Sawyer babysits him?”

  “We all do to an extent, but we love him. We need him to be well like we’d need our family to be well. He’s vital to us. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, slowly. “I do.”

  His smile betrayed his relief. “He has episodes of paranoia, and can display symptoms of bi polar, but it’s never been diagnosed.” Devon was bi polar, but Sean’s official opinion didn’t hold sway considering their close friendship.

  The state of Devon’s mental health had been stable for a long time; thanks to the way they led their lives, Sean knew, so he’d never pushed Dev into getting meds or to going to a psychologist.

  Sean, more than even Sawyer, monitored Dev for that.

  “Wow, you’re really loading this on me, aren’t you?” she admitted on a low exhalation.

  “Why do you think I needed you to sign the NDA?” he said ruefully. “I’ve just armed you with enough poison to blacken all of his research.”

  Her eyes flared wide with distress. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. I wasn’t kidding when I said some of his work affects national security. If his equations are cast into doubt, then it would undermine everything. All the good he’s managed to achieve.”

  “Jesus,” she said on a gulp, pressing a hand to her chest.

  “I know. It’s a huge responsibility. It’s why I let you sign the NDA first before the employment contract.”

  “So, I’d have an out?”

  He nodded. “I warned Devon off. I told him not to broach the topic, but I could see today you were charmed by him, and even though he’s incredibly blind when it comes to some things, he isn’t where a beautiful woman is concerned.”

  She chuckled. “You charmer.”

  He shot her a grin, relieved that she was taking this so calmly. “The truth will set you free. Another truth: he’ll see you’re as attracted to us as we are to you, and whether I leash him or not, he’ll talk to you about it. The idea of you being all of ours will be natural to him.”

  “Why?”

  “It just… it works for us, Sascha. We’re busy men. We don’t have time to date. As a collective, we can all work to make sure our woman is happy. Individually,” he confessed, “we’re probably the shittiest boyfriends ever.”

  She processed that. “You said you leashed him… before today, I’ll assume?”

  He nodded again.

  “But, I’d never met him, and the shot I clipped onto my resume, wasn’t the best picture. How did it come about where you even had to think about leashing him?”

  “He saw you from the car.”

  “Okay?”

  “Sawyer said he likes your hair. That’s enough.”

  “It is?” She gawked at him.

  “To Devon, beauty is…” He shrugged. “I’m just a man. You’re hot, Sascha. We both know that. From that little dimple in your cheek to the curve of your ass in those pencil skirts you wear. But, knowing Devon, you’ll have a Fibonacci spiral somewhere and he’ll adore you until the end of time because of it.”

  “Jesus.” She let out a low laugh. “This is nuts.”

  He shrugged. “It’s down to you whether you sign the contract, Sascha. And, it’s imperative you understand… just because I’ve told you what Devon’s wishful thinking is, doesn’t mean that you have to want it. You can always say no. He would never force you. None of us would. That isn’t how this works.”

  She stared at him a second, then whispered, “How many times have you done this?”

  “Successfully?” Sean blinked. “And by that, I mean, excluding Janna?” At her nod, he said, “Three times. The first time, she had to move to the States, ironically enough. Our lives will always be here.”

  “Didn’t you fall for one another?”

  “In a sense, and when she left, we missed her, but she’d outgrown us. You must bear in mind, to a lot of people, this is almost like a sex game. They want to do it, check it off the list, and that’s it. It isn�
��t like that for us. The ladies with whom we shared a similar arrangement treated us that way.” He jerked a shoulder. “That affects our responses to them.”

  A frown puckered her brow. “What if I fell in love with you?”

  His eyes widened. “You think that would be possible?”

  He loved the hectic color that stained her cheeks as she mumbled, “Well, I don’t know. I’m just asking.”

  “Then,” he told her easily, knowing he spoke the whole truth, “we’d fall for you.”

  “You can’t guarantee that,” she said huskily.

  “Of course not, but you know that phrase… ‘treat others how you wish to be treated yourself?” Her nod had him concluding, “If you treat us with love, that’s how we’ll treat you.”

  Sascha stared at him, and he could see a curious mixture of inquisitiveness, a tender vulnerability, and longing etched into her features. Her cheeks were pink with emotions, her lips parted with desire, but her hands had a tight hold on the armrest.

  “What will it be, Sascha?” he asked softly, studying her as intently as she studied him. “Are you going to sign the contract?”

  She signed.

  How could she not?

  The guys were nice, friendly to work with. The house was gorgeous. Her little attic bedroom beautiful, and the salary was insane.

  All of those were definite pluses for the job. Then, throw in this… well, unusual background, and Sascha was more than just curious. She was intrigued.

  Devon wanted her for her hair?

  The notion was both charming and bemusing.

  He was the lynch pin, she’d come to realize over the subsequent two weeks in ‘service’ to the men of the house.

  In fourteen days, she couldn’t say a lot had happened, save for them all falling into a regular schedule with one another. Sascha learned their quirks, and their habits. She quickly saw which dishes disappeared from the tables she laid out for them, and knew which one needed non-bio laundry detergent—Kurt. Not that he’d told her. She’d just watched him scratching at his collars and cuffs, and recognized the signs.

  She baked, she helped clean. She did laundry.

  In essence, she did her job.

  None of them, not even Sean or, strangely enough, Devon, had brought up the topic of her being shared among all five of her bosses. She wasn’t sure why. She’d expected Devon to bring it up in the middle of a very ordinary conversation, and had to admit to being disappointed when he hadn’t.

  Not that he hadn’t let out some doozies.

  Like when she’d taken a seat at the dining table—she sat at one head with Sean at the other—and he’d asked her if she had her period. Because, get this, her color was high, and she’d flinched when a cupboard door had opened too quickly and swung into her chest.

  Not even her previous boyfriend of three years had realized she got sensitive boobs during her period. And Devon? The man who wasn’t sure what cinnamon was, had figured it out in a matter of minutes.

  The conversation had hushed at the table, all of them waiting for her response. She knew they’d been waiting for an explosion, but though she’d been a little bewildered, Sascha had smiled at him and told him, “That’s none of your beeswax, Devon.”

  He’d scowled, looked set to argue, but Andrei had elbowed him in the side and told him to shut up.

  Then, the next day, he asked if she had any tripe—because sure, every household had that lump of horribleness in their fridge. Perplexed by the request, she’d asked him if it was something he wanted to have in the house, but he’d wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I was researching last night. The average woman loses a cup of blood during menstruation.”

  She’d frowned. “What does that have to do with tripe?”

  “It helps replace lost blood,” he told her cheerfully. “I thought it might be wise for you to eat some.”

  Unsure whether to be stunned or offended at his interest in her uterus, she’d decided to just roll her eyes, pat him on the shoulder, and swiftly serve him his regular breakfast of scrambled eggs on home-baked rye bread.

  Thankfully, the distraction had worked, and he’d left her and her ovaries alone. Well, apart from when he wasn’t twisting them into knots when she caught him working out or scowling at the boards he had in his study as he tried to solve whatever immense calculation was vital to that day’s research.

  But hell, she was getting used to that all round. Sawyer had a habit of waking up, trudging down to the kitchen for breakfast shirtless, yawning, and barefoot.

  Kurt somehow managed to get pen all over his face as he worked, and she loved licking her thumb and wiping it off his cheek or chin—and he didn’t even mind the germs.

  Andrei wore the sexiest aftershave that turned her on something fierce, and when she went into his bathroom to get the laundry, she near as dammit sniffed his dirty towels to inhale his scent because it went so far deeper than just the aftershave. It was him. He smelled like… Hell, she didn’t know what but her nose sure as shit appreciated it. And she didn’t even care that it was gross as fuck.

  Sean was the most serious of them all. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because he had to deal with the nastier side of life? He was a criminologist. A modern-day Sherlock Holmes, she supposed, who worked for Scotland Yard and helped police with their profiling of serial killers—not that there were many in the area. He consulted for many international police branches, and lectured at a local university. Watching him in the throes of a breakthrough was like watching dancing flames. He had a board like Devon and Sawyer, but it was discreetly hidden in a cupboard when he wasn’t working on it.

  She’d brought him his afternoon tea complete with a slice of cake she’d made for the boys one afternoon, and had watched from the doorway as vitality whizzed through him, literally charging him with an energy that was both impossible to see but so present, it had made the hairs on the back of her neck stand upright.

  When she looked back to that morning when she’d signed the NDA and her contract, she wondered if it had been a joke of some sort, because they’d never mentioned it since. But also, she realized that though the idea of being with all five of them should have terrified her and had her screaming for the hills, it didn’t.

  She wanted them.

  There was no mistaking it.

  Being around them was like having porn on in the background at all times. They didn’t have to do anything to turn her on—Andrei had helped put away the groceries yesterday, and she’d nearly had an orgasm watching the play of his muscles in his tight shirt. Somehow, they managed to make the ordinary, extraordinary, and by being around them, it was like it rubbed off on her.

  Jesus, she wished they would rub off on her. She’d totally be game for that!

  Peering out of her bedroom window onto the dull day ahead, she grimaced, then wished for a bit of sun. From Arizona and accustomed to the shocking, searing heat of Tucson mid-July, this was the exact opposite.

  A good old British summer’s day meant rain, rain, and more rain, she’d come to learn over the last few years, and though she quite liked the glum climate because it made everything so green and fresh, it sucked at this time of the year.

  Pressing her forehead against the cold window, she marveled over her new home. This wasn’t just any home though. This place was in Kensington. Before she’d moved here, she hadn’t understood how many different parts there were to London. How many rich parts there were, and how many poor ones too. But now she did? Oh, boy. She’d hit the jackpot.

  Kensington was like the Upper East Side of Manhattan, except, there was a palace close by where real-life princes and princesses lived.

  Yep, she was sharing a zip code with royalty.

  Amused, she glanced over the small park in front of the house. She saw a few neighbors were huddled under umbrellas as they walked their dogs and saw a rather nice Lamborghini—far too flashy for this sort of neighborhood—whizz past on its way to only God knew where. An Arab Sheikh maybe? A
rich footballer? Who knew? Still, it was fun to guess.

  Turning away from the gray day, she looked at her bedroom and hugged herself. She’d lived-in on a few jobs, but nowhere had been as nice as this.

  She had a king-sized sleigh bed with matching oak bedside tables. Two rather grand lamps illuminated a back wall that had a pretty mural on it of huge Calla lilies, where the rest were painted a pleasant duck egg. She had a dressing table, and a corner unit with a TV perched on top. Two doors led off her living space. One housed a connecting bath that belonged in a hotel, and the other an extensive closet for clothes and storage.

  Underfoot, there was a thick carpet, but a huge rug covered a good two thirds of the floor, and her feet sunk into the shaggy sheepskin pile with delight. It was a weird British thing she’d come to appreciate over the years. Back home, she’d never had both. But here? Rugs over carpets was a standard she’d come to appreciate—maybe because it was always fucking freezing here. She didn’t know, was just grateful for the extra padding.

  She’d never lived anywhere like this, and knew she was being spoiled. Still, she did her best to spoil the boys back, so it was Even Stevens as far as she was concerned.

  Eying the clock on the bedside table, she decided to do something she rarely did… head down to the kitchen still in her nightwear.

  It was unprofessional and… she’d admit, provocative. It was a move she wasn’t entirely sure why she was making.

  Well. That was a lie, she admitted to herself as she blew out a gusty breath.

  None of them were in anyway suggestive with her, and, truth was, that was starting to irk her.

  Was she probing for a reaction? Of the verbal or physical kind? Sascha honestly couldn’t say as she stepped downstairs in the faint light of the morning, not bothering to turn on any lamps, as she bypassed all the bedrooms and headed for the basement—stopping off only to gather the various papers and magazines that had been dropped off at the door pre-dawn—paper boys started early here.