Kurt frowned at Devon. “How the hell have you noticed this stuff?”
“I like watching her. She’s interesting.”
He narrowed his eyes at his friend. “How interesting?”
Devon scratched his chest. “Poincaré conjecture interesting,” he replied.
Sawyer choked on his coffee. “No fucking way.” When Sean, Andrei, and Kurt just stared at Sawyer blankly, he explained, “You know we’re working on P vs NP, right?”
“One of those Millennium Prizes, no? If you solve it, you’ll get a million bucks?”
At Andrei’s explanation, Devon sniffed. “Like the money matters.”
Andrei just rolled his eyes.
“Well, the Poincaré conjecture was another of those prizes. It’s the only one that’s been solved thus far, and Devon’s been studying it recently. He thinks it can help with another of his pet projects.”
Sean’s eyes widened at the explanation. If Devon thought Sascha was as or more interesting than math, then God help her, she was going to be bearing the full brunt of his focus. Nothing would slip by him.
Though he knew it was childish, he murmured, “What does she do for me?”
“Your cupcakes are with a special sweetener.” He rubbed his chin again. “I can’t remember what it’s called, but it’s made from birch sap.”
Despite himself, he was touched. “Because I’m pre-diabetic?”
“I’d hope so. Otherwise she’s trying to poison you,” Kurt teased.
“What about me?” Sawyer asked, apparently not wanting to be left out.
“That disgusting chorizo you eat. She doesn’t get it from the deli.”
“She makes it?”
“Yep. Plus, she puts the extra creases in your pants like you want.”
“Well, that’s it. We need to marry the girl,” Andrei mocked, but Sawyer elbowed him in the side.
“Don’t mock. Devon’s right, she’s not behaving like a housekeeper.”
“Housekeepers do no more or less than their duties. They don’t go above and beyond,” Sean added quietly.
“You said you’d talked to her about Janna?”
Sean winced at Andrei’s question. “Yeah.” He shot Devon a look, but he was looking down at the bread he was buttering. Trust them all to figure he’d be the most sensitive where Janna was concerned, when he didn’t actually give a shit. “She’d seen something online.”
“Was she… what was her reaction?”
“It wasn’t negative,” he said softly. “I think she was curious.”
“Because that’s exactly what we want. To be treated like a freak show,” Sawyer said gruffly.
“No. It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like then?”
“I don’t know. It was like she was pensive and pondering what I told her.”
“Which was what exactly? Just the bare bones of that particular situation or something else?” Kurt demanded, his tone suspicious.
“I said that she should probably expect Devon to approach her about our tastes.”
The man in question, rather than appear offended, looked quite proud. “See, you were wrong. I behaved. I didn’t say anything.”
“No, you just brought up her period and tried to get her to eat tripe,” Andrei said with a snort.
Sean, recalling those horrendous conversations, rubbed his eyes. “It’s a wonder she hasn’t run screaming from the damn house.”
“She’s happy here,” Devon said softly. “She sings when no one’s down here and she’s baking.”
“She’s been here two weeks,” Kurt pointed out again. “Even if she was interested by the idea, she’s barely been here long enough to know what she wants.”
“He’s right,” Sawyer stated quietly.
“Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t. Sometimes, the connection is there. What are we supposed to do? Ignore it just because normally, things don’t develop for ages?” Devon snorted. “In my experience, women are always far more proactive than men. I’d dither, they pounce.”
Sean grumbled, “That’s because you’re a lucky bastard.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I’d say I’m receptive, and they know it. It’s appealing to them.”
“Okay, so let’s say she’s receptive. What’s the next step?”
“I think there shouldn’t be one. Not for a while yet. Let’s make sure she’s happy here before we take this any further.”
At Kurt’s suggestion, Devon groaned. “You lot are so fucking boring sometimes.” He huffed and climbed off his stool. “I’m going shopping with Sascha.”
“Since when do you go shopping?” Sean demanded, gawking at the friend he’d known for close to two decades, and who had never entered a supermarket in that time.
They were enablers. So, sue them.
“Since I’ll be going with Sascha and in her Caddy.” He grinned, then mumbled under his breath, “I wonder if she’d let me drive it.”
And with that, he left, heading for the stairs with a speed that surprised the men he left behind.
“He’ll fuck this up for us,” Andrei predicted.
“When has he ever done that?” Sean asked. “He’s usually the catalyst.”
“He’s being weirder than usual. Am I the only one to notice?” Andrei countered.
Sawyer grimaced. “He’s definitely keen on her. I didn’t know where to look when he started talking about her being bloated the other day.”
“She seems to find him amusing.”
“It’s probably because she’s American. You know they think we’re being funny when we’re being serious.”
Sean snorted at Sawyer’s en pointe retort. “Let’s be thankful for small mercies.” He cleared his throat. “I propose we let this take its natural course. If Devon’s right, and she pounces… as he phrased it… then I think we should go with the flow.”
“The flow…” Andrei chuckled. “Like we wouldn’t pounce right back?”
Sean blinked, then grinned. “True. I’m just stunned that’s all. When I hired her, I thought she was hot, but I never imagined we’d be having this conversation. Not after the last debacle.”
Kurt shrugged, then after he took a sip of his coffee, murmured, “She’s witty, charming, warm-hearted, and beautiful. It’s no wonder we’re hooked. The question is why she would want to be with all five of us.”
And that, as was always the way, was the question.
Four
“What are you doing?”
Sascha frowned over at the door to the living room, where she saw Andrei standing, watching her.
“Knitting.” She had needles in her hand and a big ball of wool. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
His lips twitched at that. “Somebody’s prickly today.”
If her nose lifted into the air, then that wasn’t her fault. “Don’t ask me if I’ve got my period. I’ve had enough of Devon with that.”
“He is rather obsessed, isn’t he?” Andrei said blandly, and she shot him a look. Unsure if he was laughing at her or not.
He was an odd one, Andrei. Quick to mock, but quicker to laugh at himself. He didn’t share all that much about himself, and was usually the quietest of the bunch.
“May I sit?”
“Of course,” she mumbled. “It’s your house.”
He snorted as he took the seat beside her on the sofa opposite the huge TV set. “If you haven’t figured out we’re not like that in the two months you’ve been here, then there’s no hope.”
Two months. How had that happened? Where had those sixty days gone, and why hadn’t she gotten laid in a single damn one of them?
“Well, that’s true,” she conceded. “But if I’d wanted to be alone, I’d have stayed in my room.”
“Since when did you start knitting?”
Since she’d read it was great for relieving sexual frustration. She wasn’t entirely sure if it was working. She was still frustrated, just not at being able to knit, which seemed counterintu
itive to her.
Not that she could tell him that.
If she dropped any more hints, she was going to look desperate. And that was the last thing she wanted.
She’d never been blatant with her hints, so it was either that they were ignoring them willfully or she’d been too discreet.
“Since I read an article about how good it is for the brain,” she lied, making the story up on the spot. It was either that or beg him to go down on her. Oh crap. If he did and talked to her in Russian at the same time? She knew she’d melt for real.
“Seriously?” He pursed his lips as he tucked his hands into his trouser pockets and watched her as she tried to do the whole loop and knot thing. “My grandmother used to knit. And crochet. I loved watching her.”
She smiled. “You can watch me if you want. I’m sure the TV is more interesting though.”
He snorted. “I don’t watch much TV.”
“I noticed,” she said wryly. “I think I’m the only one who uses this room. Which makes no sense, considering someone had to buy the stuff in here.”
Andrei cast a glance around the lounge and shrugged. “It was either that or just have an empty room, which would have freaked Kurt out.”
“Why?”
“Haven’t you noticed? He’s a packrat.”
She blinked. “I just thought he was messy.”
“Well, that too.” When she chuckled, he grinned at her, then focused on her hands once more.
“Are you okay, Andrei?” Sascha asked quietly.
He tilted his head back against the sofa, then yawned. “I have to write a speech for a gala I’m attending. It’s not going well.”
She cocked a brow. “No? Can I help?”
“I wouldn’t bore you with it,” he said dismissively. “I hate galas and I hate speeches.”
“If they’ve asked you to speak, then that’s an honor, surely?”
Who was he going with? She longed to ask. Wanted to know if he had a date, but she couldn’t. Could she?
In all the time she’d been here, not a single person with XX chromosomes had crossed the front door.
What was wrong with the women in this country? Were they fucking blind?
“It’s an honor, but it’s still tedious.”
She snorted. “You’re all so dismissive of your talents. I’ve never known men so humble.”
Andrei rolled his eyes. “You live with Devon long enough, it’s hard to feel like you’ve a lot to boast about.”
“I can see why you’d feel like that,” she confessed.
“When someone’s so brilliant,” he continued, “your own glitter seems dull in comparison.” He smiled. “That sounds self-piteous, but it isn’t. I think Devon saves us all from believing our own press. How he’s not an arsehole about it too, I’m not sure.”
Devon was the least big-headed person, she knew. Apparently, Andrei too, and he, Devon, and Sawyer seemed to work within the same sphere.
Andrei was into economics and statistics more than the other two, who seemed to focus solely on theoretical math, but hell. Who was she to say? When they talked about Gödel’s theorems and Cantor’s diagonalizations, she had no idea what they were talking about, but it got her wet.
Seriously wet.
Like, disturbingly so.
She’d never realized until now that she found intelligence attractive. Her dumbass ex had been a gambler for a living—he’d worked in the City on the Stock Exchange. At the time, she’d known he was smart. But after being with these five?
They were hard to live up to.
“Do you know what a sapiosexual is?” she asked Andrei, tone curious. Sascha thought it wasn’t wise to ask, but she liked to stir shit up from time to time. Especially when they were being so goddamn dense.
How could Sean raise a topic because he believed it would come to a head soon, then… nada. It was like the biggest pussy-tease going.
She’d been prepped, all engines revved and raring to go, but it was for nothing.
Was it any wonder she wanted to stir things up a bit?
When he cleared his throat, she had to bite back a satisfied smile. He knew. A sapiosexual was someone attracted to intelligence—and boy, did she have an endless source of that wafting through the house.
“Why do you ask?”
“I just realized recently that I am one.”
Andrei was paler than the others. She wondered if the cold Russian winters had bleached him white, but it came in handy at times like these. The tips of his ears turned pink, and his cheeks flashed with color for a second at her pursuing the conversation.
If anything, it enhanced his appeal. She liked knowing that she could have them on edge.
Truth was, it would be easy for her to feel like they were toying with her in some way. These guys were rich, powerful, intelligent, and so freakin’ gorgeous, she didn’t understand why they didn’t have women trying to slip through the cracks in the door to get to them.
Yet, they didn’t, and she was still unable to believe that not one woman had visited, called, or done anything in any way normal with the hunks she lived with.
Either they were totally ignoring the chicks who were coming onto them, or British women the city over were blind.
Could it be they were selectively weeding out the women who wouldn’t accept their unusual household?
It was a question to ponder.
Andrei had remained silent at her comment, but his ears were still burning. She liked that she could embarrass him, which she knew made her sound cruel. But Andrei’s humor was a little cutting. Even mean, at times. Especially with Devon.
There was definitely a bromance aspect to their friendship, but if anyone would call Devon out on any shit he was spouting, it was Andrei. He was, for example, the first to leap to her defense when Devon spewed his usual twenty questions at her as soon as they were seated at the dining table. In a sense, he protected her from Devon’s total lack of filter, and though she didn’t need it, she was charmed by it regardless.
When he didn’t seem willing to take the bait, she sighed wearily. She’d expected to be overwhelmed by them peppering her to let them share her. She hadn’t expected having to goddamn beg for it!
Pissed, and more curious now than ever, Sascha asked, “Are you attending this gala alone?” If her work grew a little sloppier with her exasperation, then it was tough shit.
He cut her a glance. “Yes.”
What? She shook her head at the stupid British women in the area. “Why?” She wondered if her bewilderment bled into her voice, but if it did, he barely reacted.
“I didn’t want to ask anyone.” He grimaced. “I don’t want to bore them. It’s not exactly going to be a barrel of laughs.”
“I’m sure I’d find it interesting. Would you like me to come with you?”
“Why would you want to?” he asked, sounding perplexed. “It will be boring,” he repeated.
“I think it sucks that you’re going to go to an event alone, when it seems to me like you’re being celebrated for something. You should have someone there to clap for you.”
His brow puckered. “You would do this?”
“Of course.”
“It will be boring,” he stated again, as though trying to reiterate that she would not be having fun.
“You said that already. About four times?” she teased. “I can cope with a few hours of boredom. I do your laundry for a living, don’t I?”
He chuckled. “True. Monotony is separating whites from darks.”
“Exactly,” she said with a grin. “Is it a very formal event?”
“Yes. Will you have something to wear?”
“I can find something I’m sure.”
He frowned. “I don’t want you out of pocket on this. Has Sean given you the household credit card yet?”
“Yes. A month ago.” She’d not realized there was a ‘household credit card’ until Sean had given it to her. For the first four weeks, she’d paid for everythi
ng out of petty cash. Once they seemed to realize she was around to stay and could be trusted, Sean had handed her the card with an ease that had warmed her.
She knew the card represented their faith in her, and knowing them, the limit was probably for an ungodly amount, so that faith was even more invaluable. She’d actually hoped it was a sign that one of them would come onto her.
They hadn’t.
It was nice knowing they were gentleman, but that didn’t help the situation in her panties.
What was it about them that hit her in all the right spots?
She wished she knew. She’d never experienced these kinds of ‘deviant’ desires before now. It was like discussing it with Sean, allowing the idea to percolate and be given room to breathe, had been all the encouragement she needed. And now, they weren’t taking the damn bait!
“Well, this event will be designer fancy,” Andrei told her, breaking into her brooding thoughts. “Use the card to buy a dress. Anything else you need too. Shoes or whatever. I’ll explain the extra expense to Sean.”
She blinked. “Are you sure?”
“Of course.”
Carte blanche with a credit card and permission to go wild in ‘designer fancy’ stores?
She grinned at him. “You totally made up for any boredom that’s to come.”
He snorted. “Like shopping, do you?”
“When I can buy whatever the hell I want? Yes! Who doesn’t?”
“I hate shopping.”
His glum retort had her snickering, then, she leaned over so that she was resting against his side. “If you come with me, you could always help me zip up the dresses I try on.”
Her words had his nostrils flaring. “Sascha…”
“Yes?” she pounced.
He licked his lips. “I don’t think you understand what it is you’re inviting here.”
“I think I should be the one to judge that,” she retorted, equally as softly.
Andrei turned his head away from the TV and peered at her from under thick, dark gold lashes. The man made Chris Hemsworth look ugly. Yeah. Impossible, she knew, but Jesus Christ, he was hardwired into her hormones. His smell? Fuck! She had no idea what was going on that turned her into a horn dog around these five, but God, if she didn’t get some action soon, she’d be assaulting one of them.
Hers To Keep: THE QUINTESSENCE COLLECTION I Page 7