“That’s true,” I replied.
It wasn’t an accident. I’d been given ample opportunity to call, and I had extensive knowledge that I could divulge.
I’d die, first.
“We finally get a man on the inside, and he doesn’t tell us a damned thing. It’s going to take one hell of an excuse to ignore this, Mr. Phillips.”
I said nothing.
“Well?” he asked. “What do you have to report on that icy bitch?”
The metal handle of my fork dug into my clenched fist. No one spoke of Ariana in such terms. Had I Taylor’s way with words, or Slade’s unwavering conviction, perhaps I would have known precisely what to say to Curtis. Perhaps I would have the strength to tell Curtis exactly what I thought of him, and what he could do with his junior partner position. Had I been a better man, I’d have explained everything to Ariana, Slade, and Taylor. With every day that passed, the truth grew more difficult to confess.
This was not a moment of strength for me. Instead of ending this farce, I kept my answer as minimal as was possible.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” He raised his voice, and I could picture his dark, soulless eyes, his hard face contorted in anger—his natural state.
I’d spent my entire adult life working for the position I’d earned at the Curtis Corporation. One meeting basking in Ariana and I was set to throw it all away. I refused to betray her.
“I have nothing to tell you,” I said. My stomach was a pit. The medley of potatoes, peppers, and rosemary churned within.
“Perhaps you’ve forgotten how this works,” Curtis said.
There was no way to forget. I’d seen firsthand the way Curtis dealt with those who displeased him. It began with those closest to them, and it didn’t stop until the offending party was utterly broken—shattered body and soul.
Ariana.
“Of course not,” I replied.
“I expect not,” Curtis said.
The line cut out.
I set down my fork, sickened by the very thought of taking another bite.
There was only so long I could continue like this. I told myself that I was protecting Ariana, that all of this was for her. I lied to myself, explaining that I was protecting Whitesong, and that leaving Curtis hanging stopped him from coming for those I cherished. But the truth was far less selfless. The truth was that I couldn’t imagine admitting my betrayal.
The door handle turned.
The scent of dragon mingled with that of metal, and with the scent of apples.
I rose to my feet and watched as Slade, not Taylor, accompanied Ariana through the door. Her athletic pants were black and clung to her legs. The straps of her purple bra stuck out from the shoulder of her thin, white sleeveless shirt. She was as gorgeous in sportswear as she was in a gown, and one glimpse took my breath away.
She giggled and said something to Slade, but I didn’t catch her words. I was too busy devouring every inch of her with my eyes. I remembered those curves from my dream, the creamy hue of her bare skin, the softness of her beautiful breasts.
“Good morning, Quentin.” My name rolled off Ariana’s tongue, and all thoughts of Chad Curtis melted away.
“Good morning,” I replied.
Slade ran over to the kitchen. “I smell potatoes,” he said.
“Help yourself,” I said. My attention remained on Ariana, on the curves of her ample bosom, on the way her waist tapered in and how her hips flared. The hazelnut scent of Taylor and passion clung to her skin. Again I was reminded of my dreams. She’d spent the night with Taylor, and it only made me want her more.
I crossed the room. I needed to touch her, to hold her.
I brushed her face with my palm. Her skin was warm, and she smiled as she tilted her cheek in.
“We’ve been having a tough time getting that date in,” she said. “And today I have a full schedule of phone calls. Maybe tonight we could—”
I couldn’t imagine waiting another day to touch her. I couldn’t imagine waiting another minute.
I crushed my lips to hers. She tasted like hot coffee and sweet cream. When I pulled away, she let out a little moan of dismay.
“Do you have a minute, now?” I asked.
Her breath was heavy, and I could still taste her even though our lips had parted. Her scent intoxicated me, while her closeness fueled my desire.
“I’m really going to eat all of this,” Slade said from the kitchen. “You sure you don’t want some more?”
“Really sure,” I said.
Ariana nodded and leaned her forehead on my chin.
I laced my fingers in hers and led her to my room. The door was open, and Slade’s tiny orange kitten was curled on my pillow, just as she always was.
“You should cook for a living,” Slade called.
I shut the door. I could hear him just a few feet away. I was sure he could hear us, too, and I didn’t care. I wanted Ariana. Now.
She pulled my tie loose and bit her lower lip. Her hips pressed deliciously against mine, teasing my stiff cock.
Slipping her hands between us, she unbuckled my belt. Her brown eyes sparkled with excitement. “I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw you at the bar.”
“Me, too.” I slid my hand through the oversized arm hole of her shirt and cupped her breast. Pert and soft, she was the perfect fit in my palm. She arched into my touch with a soft moan.
My slacks pooled on the floor, and I shoved my tongue deep into her mouth. I pulled down her pants, then lifted her against the door. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her legs around my waist.
“Bed,” she gasped between rough, hard kisses.
I obliged and swiped a hand toward the sleeping kitten. “Shoo,” I said.
The kitten gave me a half-lidded glare and didn’t budge.
Fine, we could use the other half of the bed. I threw down Ariana, myself on top of her.
While I rested on my forearms, gazing down at her, she lifted her shirt and bra over her head. I took in her perfection. Her skin was beautifully tan and warm to my touch, while the scent of her desire filled my lungs. Her hooded eyes betrayed her need, with a look that told me that this meant as much to her as it did to me. She was just as I had dreamed, only so much more. I took her nipple with my tongue, kneaded her other breast with my palm. She squirmed and moaned beneath me, lifting her hips up against me.
Noise from the kitchen cut short.
I pulled down my boxers, and her panties. She took the band out from my hair and ran her fingers through the strands.
“Quentin.” Her voice was full of desperate need.
I grabbed her hips and pulled them to mine, dipping my cock into her hot, wet pussy. I groaned her name and sheathed myself within her. Heat. Liquid velvet. Despite the urgency I felt to stroke us both to completion, I held back and stilled within her.
She squirmed, as if trying to get me to move, but I held tight to one of her hips. Her eyes met mine, and I lost myself in the brown depths.
“You are everything to me,” I whispered, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead.
She nodded wordlessly. I dragged my cock out of her, then rushed back inside again. Her mouth fell open, and I kissed her lips as her eyes fluttered shut. As I stroked within her, the pleasure made everything tighten within me, and I could feel her walls squeezing me. Her breathing grew louder, and she moaned my name, over and over again. The sound was a perfect melody.
As soon as she came, clutching my face to hers in a bruising kiss, I gave her everything I’d been holding back, let go of all of the tension that had built, and everything was as it was meant to be. Ariana was mine, ours, and I was home.
Chapter Three
Ariana
Quentin lay staring up at the ceiling as I dressed. Princess Needleclaw purred and attempted to make a nest in his hair.
“That was—” he said.
“Yeah.” Sex with Quentin was completely different than with Taylor, and just as satisfying
. It felt like an itch finally being scratched—a really sexy, come-twice-in-five-minutes itch. “It’s really okay that I have to go, right?” I asked. “I need to check in on—”
“It really is okay.” He sat up on the bed, and his long hair fell around his shoulders. The honey-brown strands were soft and luxurious, and I was tempted to run my fingers through them again. It had taken too long for us to get here, and I wanted to relish this time together instead of running back to work.
“We’ll do a real date one of these days,” I said.
“Maybe I’ll even cook.”
He stood and strolled over to me. He was lean and athletic, much like Taylor. But Quentin was more confident. It was evident in the way he held himself, in the way he spoke. It was in his squared shoulders and his playful grin. Quentin knew he looked good, from every chiseled muscle to his sharp nose and piercing blue eyes, and I loved that about him.
He gave me a quick kiss and opened the door for me, grabbing his shirt to cover his nakedness.
“Are you a good cook?” I asked.
If the flavors I’d tasted on his lips were any indication, I guessed he was.
“The best,” Slade answered from the other room.
My cheeks heated. Slade must have heard everything that happened. Knowing I was with the other guys sometimes was one thing, but could Slade really be okay with me being with Quentin when Slade was right outside the door?
Slade jumped up from his seat on the hideous green couch and took me into his arms. He planted a gentle kiss on my lips and let go.
“Have a great day at work today,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said, a little stunned. “You, too.”
When I left the apartment, I wasn’t entirely sure that this was all real. No one fell for three gorgeous men and had all three accept that. Right? I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.
I walked in a daze to the elevator, then rode up to the roof. I’d planned a short workout before I was due in the office. It was supposed to be beating on my punching bag, but even as I faced the bag, my heart wasn’t in it.
I wrapped my hands and took an experimental swing at the bag, felt the satisfactory thud as my fist met the sand-filled vinyl. Everything was too perfect to be true. I was in love. I was free to explore a blossoming relationship with Taylor and also my connections with Slade and Quentin. They all seemed perfectly okay with the situation.
I threw a few more punches at the heavy bag, then dropped my fists. The morning air was cool and crisp, but the sun was warm and full of hope. Maybe I’d gotten enough of a workout with Quentin anyway.
I headed back inside to shower and change for work, and couldn’t help but wonder—could this really last? What I shared with Taylor, Slade, and Quentin was different than what I’d had with Marc. Still, feeling this way reminded me of what I’d had, and what I’d lost. Happiness was fleeting. I’d hold on tight while I could, and cherish whatever it was that we had.
I’d been so swept up in Quentin, I’d almost forgotten the way Taylor had left my penthouse earlier. He was holding something back. I didn’t know what it was, but out of all three guys, I thought he would be the one to tell me everything.
I would hate for this new and wonderful relationship to be destroyed by secrets.
Heat remained in the electric fireplace after I’d shut it down, enticing me to curl back up on the sofa instead of heading to work. It was Saturday, after all. The warmth wouldn’t last long, but I couldn’t wait. I had to go. I slipped on my favorite red pumps and headed out the door.
After waking up with Taylor, coffee with Slade, and sex with Quentin, I’d spent the rest of Thursday on the phone. All of Friday too. There wasn’t a lot of time to think, which was more relief than burden.
Whitesong had taken on four jobs since the Brightwater auction. Each was small by comparison and required significantly fewer resources. At first, we’d each taken a client, but delegating roles fit better. Slade managed the employees on site, working with Belinda, Jorge, Piper, Darcy, and their teams. Quentin kept in contact with each of the clients. Taylor coordinated special requests. I made sure everything ran smoothly, which led to a lot of phone calls.
I grabbed my phone and keys and headed out the door. Saturday was likely going to turn into another day of sitting behind my desk. Given the chance, I might sneak out to check on the guys in person. Being away from them was starting to make me antsy. I kept thinking about Taylor, and the way we’d left things on Thursday.
I took my private elevator down to the forty-seventh floor and scrolled through my emails as I waited for the doors to open. On a Saturday, I’d expected the floor to be empty. To my surprise, three maintenance men struggled in the middle of the corridor with a large wooden desk. It was tilted vertically and skewed as they inched toward another narrow hall, then back the other way. The furniture was twice the size of the entryway. No way would it fit inside.
“It won’t fit. It’s too big,” one of the men said.
“That’s what she said,” said another.
I pursed my lips together, trying not to laugh.
“We’re going to have to take it apart,” the first guy said.
“What about the windows?” another asked. “Couldn’t we bring it in from outside?”
“Do you have a fifty-story crane lying around?” the first snorted and shook his head.
The third chimed in. “I say we ram it.”
I cringed at the thought. I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, I heard Maisie’s voice.
“No, no, no.” She ran out into the hall, waving her hands. “Under no circumstances are you to ram it.”
The one who suggested it dropped his end. The others let go of theirs as well, leaving the corner by the ceiling to slowly scrape down the wall. The sound was part grinding, part screech, both painful to my ears.
“Straighten it,” Maisie said. “For the love of—ugh.”
They did as they were told and propped the massive piece of furniture up on its side, then stood there staring at her.
“Good morning, Maisie,” I said. The desk blocked the hallway just in front of my office, and the area Maisie had assigned to my partners across the hall. The desk was the same as hers, likely for the assistant we still needed to hire to help the guys. It was too much for Maisie to keep juggling the four of us.
“Yeah,” she said. “It’s a great morning.”
“The desk will need to be taken apart and reassembled inside,” I said to the three men. Then I wrapped my arm around my friend’s shoulder and led her into my office.
“I appreciate you taking charge of setting them up,” I said.
“It’s as much for me as it is for them,” she said, as she sank down into the chair opposite my desk.
Her blond hair was pulled back in a messy bun with a pen holding it in place. She didn’t have on any makeup and she’d opted for pants and a blouse instead of a dress. Knowing Maisie, her ensemble could only mean one thing—guy trouble.
“If the guys are asking too much of you, I’ll set them straight,” I said as I took a seat across from her.
“That’s not it,” she said.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s Aaron.” Her slate-hued eyes looked distant and exhausted.
My heart hurt for her, and I hadn’t even heard what he’d done yet. Maisie fell in love fast and fell in love hard. The fallout made it difficult for her to bounce back.
She was a bit like Taylor in that regard. I remembered the story he’d shared with me about the plumber fixing his ex’s pipes. I hoped what Maisie was going through wasn’t so bad. And if it was, I was ready to kill Aaron.
“What did he do?” I asked.
She smiled a little at my tone. “Nothing.”
“What?” I asked, confused.
Sounds of power equipment started in the hall. The closed doors did little to dull the noise.
“He didn’t cheat on me. He didn’t hit me. He didn’t even say a
nything sexist or dickbaggish,” she said, raising her voice over the drilling and banging sounds.
“That’s good, right?”
“Sure,” she said. “But it would make the whole thing easier.”
“Did he do something weird in bed?” I asked.
“Ha,” she said. “I wish. No, it’s me. Not him. And I don’t mean that in the clichéd break-up speech way, either. He’s been nice. The sex was decent. Everything was going fine, and then it hit me. I’ve been looking for a guy just like him. Nice, normal.”
“Not dickbaggish,” I suggested.
“Exactly,” she said, before tilting her head back and staring up at the ceiling. “He’s everything I thought I wanted. It turns out, that’s not what I wanted at all. He brought me to meet his mom, and she was perfectly nice. He’s mate material, and all I can think about is dumping him. What the hell is wrong with me?”
“Nothing,” I said, taking her hand. I remembered what Taylor had told me when I’d needed to hear it. And it was true—I was sure that it was. “There are as many different kinds of love as there are people in the world,” I said. “It’s okay that he’s not right for you.”
She squeezed my palm. “Thanks. Now I just have to convince myself that it’s true.”
“It is,” I said. “That much I know. Just because Aaron sounds like the perfect mate on paper, doesn’t mean he has that spark that makes him right for you. You’ll find your mate, but not by settling for something less than happiness.”
“Like, perchance, three sexy dragon shifters all at the same time?” A smile slid across her face. “You’re going to go for it, right? Do it for the rest of us who’ll never get the chance. I wouldn’t be opposed to a video, if the four of you are into that kind of thing.”
“Maisie.” I tried to use a strong scolding voice, but I didn’t mean it. I was glad she was feeling a little better, even if it was at my expense. And I was also happy to change the subject. “So, tell me about the potential assistants you’ve gathered for the guys.”
“I’ve got interviews lined up,” she said. “I’ve narrowed it down to five candidates. Ideally, I’d like at least one of the partners there for each interview. When we’re closer to choosing, I want to make sure she’s got good chemistry with all three.”
Dragon Unbroken_A Reverse Harem Dragon Fantasy Romance Page 2