Dirty Games (A MFM Ménage Romance) (The Dirty Series Book 3)

by Tara Crescent

  She snorts. “You,” she says, “are being ridiculous. And you accuse me of being a drama queen. Pot, meet kettle.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, stung. “Come on, Maggie. Let’s not be delusional here. On the one hand, Scott and Zane have a real chance at fame and glory. On the other hand, there’s hot sex. What do you think they’re going to pick?”

  “I don’t know,” she replies. “I don’t know Scott and Zane, remember? Now, I will say that when they came into the restaurant, it was all ‘Remember that time Nina ate cashew chicken in London? She likes that. Let’s get that.’ For twenty minutes.”

  Warmth spreads through me. They’d remembered that I adored Chinese food, and they’d made a real effort to get my favorite dishes.

  “That doesn’t prove anything,” I say lamely.

  “It proves they care about you,” Maggie replies. “But that’s not even the most important thing.” She frowns at me. “The most important thing is that this isn’t your decision to make.”

  “Sure it is. I’m involved.”

  “You’ve decided that you won’t leave the Merry Cockatoo and go on tour with them,” she says pointedly. “But you haven’t given them a chance to decide what they want to do. You’re going tell them that you want them to leave because you think they shouldn’t give up touring. And that, Nina, isn’t your decision to make. It’s theirs.”

  “I want to protect them.”

  She shakes her head. “You want to protect yourself,” she replies. “You’re afraid to put your heart on the line. You’re afraid to get hurt.”

  She’s right. I am afraid.

  I didn’t tell Scott and Zane why the MOMA was important to me. I didn’t tell them why I was leaving before I left, and now, I’m repeating that pattern for the third time.

  I have to tell them what’s important to me. I see that now with crystal clarity. I have to trust that we’ll find a way to make things work.

  I have to jump without a safety net and hope they’re around to catch me.

  At five in the evening, I’m standing outside their door, my hand raised to press the doorbell when it opens. Zane emerges, holding a stack of empty pizza boxes in his hand. “Nina,” he says, an expression of pleasure filling his face when he sees me. “This is a nice surprise.”

  My stomach is churning with nerves. “Did you have a party?”

  “Jeremy and Andy came over, and the four of us watched some football. You just missed them. They left twenty minutes ago.”

  I like Zane and Scott’s fellow band members. Unlike Chris, both men had gone out of their way to make me feel like I was part of the gang.

  Speaking of the band manager, I’m kind of surprised he wasn’t part of the gathering. He was always around. “No Chris?”

  He shakes his head but doesn’t elaborate. “We were going to call you,” he says instead. “You haven’t seen the Doctor Who Christmas special, right? Want to watch it with us tonight?”

  Tell them why you’re here, Nina. Be honest with them. Tell them you don’t want to leave the bar, and you can’t go on tour with them.

  But my resolve has weakened. Jeremy and Andy were here today. I doubt the two men drove three hours just to watch football. No, they were here on Evolving Whistle business, and when it comes down to it, I can’t get in the way of that.

  What does Maggie know of risk? Her mother loves her; her brother treats her like a princess. Maggie’s father didn’t pick his second family over his daughter; my father did. Maggie can’t understand why I refuse to put myself in a position where someone will reject me once again, but I can.

  “Sure,” I reply. “Doctor Who sounds great.”

  Zane:

  We watch the special, but my attention isn’t on the Doctor.

  Tell her what you decided. Tell her what the band is going to do.

  I can anticipate Nina’s next question. “What does Chris think of all this?” she might ask me. She has every right to be skeptical. Right before she left us, we told her we were taking a break from touring, and the very next thing she heard from Chris was that we’d booked additional dates.

  I’m tempted to stay silent until we talk to our manager, but that’s not right either. Andy pointed out earlier today that we could have gone after Nina when she left, but we hadn’t. Had we followed her, we would have found out that Chris Muller was playing us against each other, manipulating us like puppets in his quest for fame and riches.

  “Nina,” I say when the Christmas special is done. “Scott and I have something to tell you.”

  “What is it?” she asks, her expression guarded.

  “Andy and Jeremy were here today to talk about the future of Evolving Whistle. We decided we need to focus on other things at the moment.” I don’t tell her about Andy’s fatigue, about Jeremy’s alcoholism—those things aren’t my secrets to divulge. “Like you.” My heart hammers in my chest as I wait for her to react.

  “What does that mean?”

  Scott answers before I can. “We’re retiring,” he replies. “If you’re okay with it, I thought I might buy your building, and open a concert space next door. Zane’s planning on working for his father’s company. And most importantly,” he says, “we want a second chance with you.”

  She finally looks at us. “Are you sure?” Her voice is hesitant. “You love Evolving Whistle. Everyone seems to think that you’re going to land a major deal in the next six months.”

  I roll my eyes. “I doubt it, Neen. As much as I want a record deal, I’m not holding my breath. I’d have better odds of winning the lottery.”

  Honestly, I don’t even want it anymore. If a label knocked on our door tomorrow, I’d turn them down. Today’s conversation with my band made me see the real cost of our success. The dream lost its magic a long time ago.

  “You’re not joking.” There’s a dawning wonder on her face. “You’re serious.”

  “I’ve never been more serious in my life,” I tell her. “I lost you once, Nina. I don’t want to lose you again.”

  “I don’t want to lose you either,” she says. She laces her fingers in mine and rests her head on Scott’s shoulder. “I want a second chance with you too.” Her lips curl into a wry smile. “And this time, I promise I’ll pay attention to rule two.”

  Rule two—we play the game with honesty.

  “It’s a good rule,” I say solemnly. “But this isn’t a game anymore, Nina. It never was.”

  The grandfather clock in the living room strikes six at that moment, and Scott grins. “Well,” he says slowly, “I agree with Zane. Our relationship isn’t a game. However, we’ve only used three nights of our five. Maybe we play a little bit?”

  She laughs. “What do you have planned?”

  Scott gets to his feet. “Come on, Nina,” he says, holding his hand to her. “Let’s find out.”

  15

  Nina:

  A couple of days later, while we’re eating breakfast, Scott makes an appointment with Dr. Bollington’s realtor. “I don’t know how I feel about you becoming my landlord,” I tease him. “What if I’m late with my rent?”

  Scott chuckles. “I never thought of the hundreds of possibilities this offers,” he says, a wicked glint in his eyes. “I think I’ll have to bend you over the bar and punish you.”

  A flash of heat hits me at that idea. “Punish me?” I ask coyly as if I have no idea what Scott is talking about. Zane’s watching the two of us with a grin on his face. “What do you mean by punishment?”

  Scott gets to his feet. “What do you think, Zane? This kitchen island looks about the right height as Nina’s bar, doesn’t it? Maybe we can demonstrate.”

  Zane’s grin widens. “What a good idea.” He turns to me. “You know the drill, Neen,” he says, his lips twitching. “Get naked.”

  I look up. The curtains are drawn back, and anyone walking by can see us. “New Summit’s a gossipy town,” I warn.

  “Fair enough.” Zane gets up and pulls them shut. He comes ba
ck with the curtain tie in his hands and an amused gleam in his eyes. “Get naked,” he repeats.

  I shed my clothes promptly. I want Scott and Zane, and I refuse to pretend otherwise.

  “Good girl.” Scott smiles at me. “I think I know what Zane’s planning with that tie,” he says conversationally. “Bend over the counter, Nina, and put your hands behind your back.”

  I obey once again. My breasts press into the cool granite of the countertop, and the cold sends a shock through my system. Goose bumps break out on my skin. “Don’t worry, Neen,” Zane says, stroking my back, “we’ll soon warm you up.”

  He holds my wrists in place and ties them together with the curtain cord. When he’s done, I test the bonds to see how easily I’ll be able to get out of them, and the answer is, not easily at all. Yet I’m not the slightest bit worried. Zane, Scott, and I did plenty of kinky stuff during our time together, and they never once made me feel unsafe. I can trust them implicitly.

  “Now that we have you where we want you,” Scott teases, “I guess we should discuss the matter of your rent, Ms. Templeton.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Leyland,” I say, trying to sound like a tenant whose landlord has come to collect rent that she doesn’t have. “I’ll have the money for you soon, I promise.”

  Zane looms in front of me, and he fixes me with a stern glare. “That’s what you said last month, and the month before, honey. And you know where I saw you yesterday? At the mall. Did you buy anything there?”

  Role plays are the best. I bite back my smile and sound contrite. “Just a pair of shoes, sir.”

  Scott chuckles. “Sir. I like the sound of that.”

  I roll my eyes. “Of course you do,” I snark, forgetting my role for a second.

  Smack. Scott’s palm connects with my ass in a smarting blow. I turn to look at him and find his eyes twinkling at me. “Given your current situation, Ms. Templeton,” he says sternly, “I don’t think sarcasm will serve you well.”

  The sting is gone, leaving pure warmth behind.

  “Is that so?” I ask him insolently. “I think sarcasm improves every situation.”

  Zane moves behind me and takes a turn spanking me. At the same time, he nudges his foot between my ankles. “Spread them,” he orders. “If you don’t have cash for rent, Ms. Templeton, perhaps we can come to other arrangements.”

  I’m about to enthusiastically vote in favor of other arrangements when my phone rings. It’s on the coffee table. “Can you see who it is?” I ask them. “Just in case it’s the bar?”

  Zane crosses over and looks down. “It’s your father,” he says.

  What frustrating timing. My dad and I have been playing phone tag for the last twenty-four hours. I want to tell him that Scott’s buying my building. I’m not going to hide the truth from my father; I’d much rather everything was out in the open. “I’ll call him back in a few minutes,” I murmur.

  Scott smirks wickedly. “You shouldn’t ignore your father’s calls, Nina,” he says. He picks up the phone and brings it over to the counter. Swiping the Talk button, he puts the call on speakerphone.

  “Hello Nina,” my dad says, his voice loud in the quiet room. “You left a message saying you needed to talk to me?”

  I am going to kill them both. Zane, for tying up my hands so I can’t end this phone call, and Scott, for answering it.

  “Hi, dad.” It takes conscious effort to keep my voice calm and level because Zane is running his hands all over my ass. Then he reaches between my legs and slides a finger into my pussy, and I have to choke back a startled gasp.

  With difficulty, I drag my attention back to my phone. “I did want to talk to you.” I take a deep breath. “Scott is going to buy Bollington’s building,” I tell my father. “And Scott, Zane and I are dating again.”

  There’s absolute silence on the other end of the line. Wonderful.

  “I know you don’t approve of Zane and Scott,” I say in a rush. Part of me doesn’t want the two guys to listen to this conversation, but then again, nothing I’m saying is news to them.

  “I don’t disapprove of Scott and Zane,” my father cuts in. “What gave you that idea?”

  “Umm, everything you’ve ever said?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Scott opening another package, his lips curled into a wicked smile, and I shake my head at him. I will kill you, I mouth, but he grins and pretends not to understand me. Instead, he pushes something that feels like an egg into my pussy, and when it’s seated in me, it starts to vibrate.

  I inhale sharply, forgetting for a split-second that I’m trying to keep silent. When I remember, I try and convert it into a cough.

  “Are you busy, Nina? You sound distracted.”

  Zane and Scott are struggling not to laugh at my predicament. “I just saw an ant,” I blurt out, saying the first thing that comes to my mind. “I’m wondering if there’s a colony somewhere.”

  “You saw an ant?” My father sounds skeptical. “In winter?”

  I’m a terrible liar. “I know. Weird, right?”

  “Very,” he says. I’m fairly sure he doesn’t believe a word of my story. “Returning to our earlier conversation, Nina, you misunderstand me.”

  “In what way?” The egg is buzzing in my pussy, and I want to sink into the vibrations and allow myself to float away on a cloud of desire. What my dad’s saying is important, damn it. I glare at Scott and Zane. Payback will be a bitch, my friends. Just let me get untied.

  “I didn’t like the nomadic lifestyle that you led,” my father clarifies. “And it was difficult for me to deal with the fact that your relationship was so outside the mainstream. But beyond that, I have nothing against Zane and Scott. They always struck me as polite, well-mannered young men.

  ‘Polite, well-mannered young men’ is my dad’s version of a glowing compliment. He’ll be awarding them the Nobel prize next.

  “Oh.” The egg’s vibrations kick up a notch, and once again, I have to fight through the waves of pleasure and focus on my conversation. “Well, I’m going to keep seeing them, but you’ll be happy to know that they won’t be touring as much.”

  “That’s good to hear.” My dad clears his throat. “I just want you to be happy, Nina. If that’s with Scott and Zane, so be it.” His voice turns brisk. “Joanne has always wanted to meet the two of them. Perhaps the three of you can come to lunch one day.”

  “Sure.” We say our goodbyes and my father hangs up.

  Once I’m certain the line is dead, I give them a death stare. “Untie me, you jerks so that I can strangle you. Seriously, a vibrator in my pussy while I’m talking to my father?”

  Zane chuckles. “You were miserable the last time you talked to him,” he points out. “Don’t you think this is an improvement?”

  “Besides,” Scott adds, “we heard your father. We’re polite and well-mannered, Nina. Not jerks.” He unties my wrists and massages the stiffness from my shoulders. Pulling me against him, he whispers in my ear. “Want to continue this conversation upstairs?”

  I can feel his thick erection against my ass. “Finally, something I agree with.” I wriggle against him, and he inhales sharply. “How exactly do I pay three months back rent?”

  “Head upstairs, Ms. Templeton,” Zane answers, “and you’ll find out.”

  Everything’s great. We’re together, and we’re happy. I don’t have to choose between Scott and Zane and the Merry Cockatoo. I should be thrilled.

  Yet in the deepest, darkest part of my heart, there’s still a tiny trace of fear. This feels like a really great dream. But sooner or later, I’m going to wake up.

  16

  Zane:

  It seems like a dick move to spring our decision on Chris over the phone, so I call him up and suggest a meeting. “I want to discuss the future of Evolving Whistle,” I tell him. “Want to meet at Lafayette for brunch on Thursday?”

  “Sure.”

  Normally, whenever I’ve mentioned the future of the band, Chris goes into a long s
piel of all the things he wants us to do. Not this time. His ready acquiescence takes me by surprise. “Awesome,” I say. “Scott and I will see you at eleven.” We’ll have to leave New Summit at seven to be in the city on time, but I’m quite willing to sacrifice our sleep for a chance to tell our manager exactly how things are going to shake out in the future.

  We get into Manhattan slightly behind schedule. By the time we walk into Lafayette, it’s a quarter after eleven. Chris is nowhere in sight.

  “Can I help you?” the hostess asks.

  Her tone is sultry, and it’s quite clear that she’s happy to help us with anything, but I’m not interested. “We’re meeting a friend here,” I reply, using the most liberal meaning of the word ‘friend.' “Chris Muller. He said he’d make a reservation. Is he already here?”

  Her gaze runs down her sheet. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I have no reservation for Mr. Muller. Would it be under a different name?”

  Scott frowns. “Try either Zane Marshall or Scott Leyland,” he advises.

  She checks her list and shakes her head again. “Sorry, sir. I don’t have a reservation under those names either. Would you like to add your name to the list? The wait’s currently forty minutes for a party of two.”

  “There’s going to be three of us,” I say automatically. My phone rings and I mutter an apology to the hostess as I answer. It’s Andy, our drummer.

  “Zane,” he says, and there’s a note of stress in his voice that sets me on edge, “are you and Scott at Lafayette with Chris?”

  “Scott and I are here,” I respond. “No sign of Chris. Why?”

  “I might have fucked up,” he admits. “I was chatting with Chris yesterday, and he was talking about buying a new car. An expensive sports car, a Ferrari.”

  There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as Andy continues. “I had to stop him, Zane. The band makes a lot of money right now, but Chris can’t afford that car if we break up. So I told him our decision.”