Hers To Keep: THE QUINTESSENCE COLLECTION I

by Akeroyd, Serena

  The world seemed to think it was only women who could be hurt in a relationship, but that wasn’t the case.

  “I know,” Andrei murmured. “I ask myself why we do this, and then, I remember.”

  “The bond.” There was nothing like it, nothing could compare to it, and they’d only held the shadow of that bond. None of Sascha’s predecessors had ever wanted it to develop fully.

  But the connection was something they’d strived to attain for years. That feeling of their household being complete, of their unit being solid and impervious to threat—it was unsurpassable.

  One woman, loving them. Them, loving one woman. Providing for her, caring for her, giving her what they couldn’t give her individually…

  Andrei released a shuddery breath. “She spoke of it too. It’s why I kissed her. I had no intention of taking the next step, but the way she spoke? It was everything I needed to hear. She meant it. Every word.”

  “They all do,” Sean countered, trying to be realistic.

  “Not like this. She spoke of… family.” Need flashed through him, and Andrei must have seen the spark because he whispered, “The way she talked, it was like she’d read our minds.”

  “We should talk with her again.”

  “No. There’s no need.”

  “Why?”

  “Kurt walked in. He watched.”

  “Perv,” Sean said without any heat. They all knew his predilections for watching, and had grown accustomed to them over time. “How did she react?”

  “She climaxed.”

  “Well, that’s a good sign,” Sean retorted with a quick grin.

  “That’s what I thought too,” he murmured.

  “Where is she now?”

  “Kurt carried her to the bedroom.”

  “When was this?”

  “About an hour ago. She was fast asleep. Didn’t even stir when he righted her clothes and tugged her into his arms.”

  Sean rubbed a hand over his face. He felt weary, but hope was bleeding through, and he’d learned over the years how dangerous hope was. “I want to…”

  “I know. It’s hard to rejoice when you feel like the other shoe’s about to drop.”

  Because his friend understood entirely, Sean relaxed back into his seat. “What do we do?”

  “Integrate her. She wants to be family. Let her experience it.”

  “She’s been with us two months,” Sean argued. “How can we—?”

  “We just do. We have to see if she likes it.” He paused, seemed to savor the words as he whispered, “She’s different, Sean. I can feel it.”

  The ramifications of the evening’s events would be far-reaching, they both knew. But it was the next step that was hardest to discern. How to behave around her. How to interact with her. If they threw her in too quickly at the deep end, she might become uneasy. Scared, even. If they took it too slowly, she might be frustrated. Grow bored.

  “I think we should let her sleep the whole night through. She’s coming with me to that gala of mine next week. I said she should buy a dress on the household credit card.”

  Sean nodded, and rubbed his chin. “I’ll go with her.”

  Andrei cocked a brow. “Why?”

  “We should talk. She’s used to talking to me about these things now.”

  “She should be at ease discussing them with all of us,” he argued.

  “Eventually, but you know that’s not how this works. She’ll come to us for different things, until those lines blur.”

  Andrei blinked, sighed. “You’re right.”

  Sean grimaced. “If it makes you feel better, I’m not looking forward to it.”

  He snorted. “You’re a fool then. She’ll probably let you zip her up in the changing rooms.”

  “She said that?” he surmised from the wicked gleam in Andrei’s gaze. When the other man nodded, Sean chuckled. “Okay, so it might start off a little rough, but it could have a happy ending.”

  Andrei grinned, then his grin skewed. “I think Kurt intends on napping with her.”

  “So?”

  “That means you, Sawyer, or I need to cook dinner.”

  Sean, understanding this dilemma, grimaced. “Pizza?”

  “Pizza.”

  * * *

  The lights were off when she woke up, and she was alone in bed. She’d stirred a few times, had realized Kurt was by her side snoozing away, and had snuggled back under the covers—amazed that he’d had the strength to carry her up three flights of stairs.

  Hadn’t that made her feel petite and delicate when she’d always felt big and chunky all her life?

  Now, though, she felt the other side of the mattress was cold, and rather than be affronted that he’d made the decision without her to sleep there, she wished he was back, and wished she wasn’t alone.

  If it weren’t for the ache between her legs, this evening might never have happened, and she didn’t want that to be the case. Even though she was sore—it had been a long while since she’d last had sex, and Andrei was bigger than her ex—it was with relief that she felt the dull ache because it was proof.

  She hadn’t dreamed it.

  Her needs had come to fruition and she’d reveled in every moment of it. Hell, more than that. It was everything she’d imagined and more.

  With a sigh, she wriggled and then realized her skirt had caught the ‘wet’ patch. Having felt the slickness against her skin, she could no longer snuggle under the covers and quickly traipsed over to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

  Once clean and dry, as well as dressed in a thick and fluffy bathrobe, she decided she was hungry. Only trouble was, Andrei had to have told the others they’d had sex… She gnawed her lip at the thought. Was that a bad thing?

  She wasn’t sure.

  Hunger urging her on, she headed down the stairs and as she did, saw most of the doorways to the men’s room had lights running beneath them.

  She could sneak down there, but was that the wisest option? Wasn’t it better to take the bull by the balls and brazen it out?

  That had worked so far for her in her dealings with them, right?

  Well, kind of.

  Knowing that Devon would probably amuse her rather than embarrass her, she knocked on the door. At her tap, he called out, “Come in, Sascha.”

  She stepped inside. “How did you know it was me?”

  “Your knock’s gentle. Plus, you actually knock. The rest of the barbarians just barge in.”

  He peered up from his work, appearing like some kind of hobbit surrounded by his files. The room was chaos, and the one place she was allowed only to dust and empty the trash. No cleaners were permitted to enter—considering the disaster with the last cleaner, the one Devon had spilled state secrets to—that was probably wise.

  When she stepped into the room, he rocked back in his chair and murmured, “You look relaxed. The others always said Andrei was good in bed.” He pursed his lips in consideration, then nodding, more to himself than her she thought, advised, “You should get him to go down on you and speak in Russian. Janna always seemed to appreciate that.”

  Sascha winced. “We’re not really having this conversation, are we?” Her cheeks were pink from his usual bluntness, but she had to admit…he amused the hell out of her without even trying.

  She wasn’t sure why he didn’t offend her. If anything, his comments were rude and far too personal, but it was just Devon.

  Like a toddler might paint on the walls with his crayons, she expected Devon to come out with something that most would find offensive.

  Because she was prepared for it subconsciously, she rolled with his verbal punches, and found herself tickled pink more than three-quarters of the damn time.

  “You’re very beautiful post-sex,” he remarked. “Why wouldn’t I talk about it when it’s very noticeable?”

  She rolled her eyes. “The just-fucked look suits every woman according to every man.”

  He snickered. “True. Anyway, what can I do fo
r you?”

  Well, that was frank. Had she expected any less though. Awkwardly fiddling with the belt of her dressing gown, she peered down at her bare feet and mumbled, “I thought I might sit with you.”

  “Why?”

  Her eyes darted over to him at that particular question. “Why not?” When he just tilted his head in question, she sighed. “I want your company.” Okay, so she was hungry too but who didn’t hate eating alone? Maybe she could convince him to take a break?

  A girl could only try.

  He beamed at her. “Take a seat.”

  She eyed the chaotic spree of chalkboards, whiteboards, papers, books, and file folders that were the sum total of the room. There were more filing cabinets here than in a government office she felt sure, and more boards than a classroom. It was a fugly room, but… there was magic in here.

  Call her crazy, hell, she regularly did, but what these two worked on? It was life-changing, mind-boggling, world-affecting shit. Who wouldn’t be impressed by that?

  She stepped over a small hillock of paperbacks that hadn’t been there earlier in the day when she’d done a quick tidy up of the area, identified Sawyer’s desk chair under a pile of papers, pushed them into a stack and then shuffled them onto the floor. It was old fashioned; wide and broad, made from leather, and so close to being an armchair, she knew she’d be comfortable.

  “Sawyer at the gym?”

  He hummed a ‘yes’.

  As she bustled, she was aware Devon was watching her. Again, it amused her that he didn’t offer to help. Just eyed her like she was a visiting alien in his wonderland.

  She curled her legs underneath her, settled down into the crinkling leather, and pulled her cell out of her pocket. Resting her head against the wing, she began scrolling through her social networks. It was the only way she really kept in touch with friends and family in the States. Not that she had many left.

  Her mother had died when she was ten, and her father had remarried by the time she was fourteen. Sascha and Linda had never seen eye to eye, and it had been a relief when she flew the nest and went to college. The distance, both physical and emotional, between her father and herself saddened her, but she didn’t think there was any point in being upset about something she couldn’t change.

  Linda’s claws were buried far too deeply into her dad for him to see the light, and she had to deal with that or let it really work its poison on her.

  “You don’t want to talk?”

  Devon’s question had her peering at him. “No.”

  “Why come here then?”

  She bit back a smile. “Company. I told you.”

  He pondered that. “You can talk. If you want.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Why not? Women talk.”

  “And men don’t?” She snorted. “You guys talk all the time.”

  “Yeah, but women…” He grimaced.

  “You mean, the ones you’ve had in the past?” she said, borrowing his lack of delicacy and using it against him.

  Devon frowned but nodded. “Why don’t you want to? Aren’t you comfortable?”

  “You’re overthinking this, Devon,” she teased gently. “I’m very comfortable. That’s why I don’t have to talk to you. And I don’t want to because I’m tired, and still a little sleepy.”

  “Do you want some pizza?”

  She cocked a brow. “Do you have some?” The promise of grease made her belly rumble.

  “We ordered in, so you could sleep.”

  Sascha refused to blush. “Oh. Thank you.”

  He shrugged. “It was Sean and Andrei’s idea. You and Kurt were asleep, and you’re the only ones who can cook.”

  Giggling because he wasn’t wrong—she’d tasted Sean’s idea of toast, and who the fuck could ruin toast?—she got to her feet when he rustled some more papers to reveal a pizza box.

  “I’m surprised Sawyer ate it.” She knew his opinions on foods that weren’t home-made. Chemicals and E-numbers were his personal enemy.

  “He didn’t. He went to the gym instead. Said he’d eat at the kitchen there.” Devon handed it to her, and asked, “Do you like pepperoni?”

  “Love it.”

  “You’re okay then. There should be more downstairs if that’s not enough.”

  She snorted when she opened the box. The two huge pieces were enough even for her rather large appetite.

  “This will suit me to a tee,” she said grandly, shooting him a happy smile as she trekked back to the armchair, crossing paper rivers and book mountains to get there. Once settled in Sawyer’s chair again, she munched and went back to Facebook.

  “Do you have a lot of family in America?”

  She blew out an exasperated breath. “Devon, you don’t have to talk to me. I didn’t come here to interrupt you.”

  “You’re not interrupting,” he denied.

  “Were you working before I came in?” she argued.

  “Well, yes, but I’m working all the time. My brain doesn’t stop. That’s why I can’t sleep.”

  She frowned. “We need to work on that.”

  “How?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. We could do yoga together? Something like that? Meditation might be good.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “I was hoping you were going to say sex.”

  Laughter gurgled from her. “That too. Not tonight though.” She matched him; her nose wrinkled too as she confessed, “I’m sore.”

  With a commiserative grimace, he nodded. “We’re all quite big I’m afraid. It might take you a while to get used to us.”

  She laughed. “I guess it’s gone around the house by now then, huh? What I want?”

  “I told them from the start,” he stated crossly, folding his arms across his chest with a huff. “They wouldn’t listen. They’re all scared you’re going to walk out on us.”

  Stilling at that, she asked quietly, “Why do they think that?”

  “Everyone leaves us,” came the simple and painful answer, but his tone was matter of fact. Like the statement was about everyone else, and not him.

  “Surely not everyone?”

  He shrugged.

  “You mean women.”

  “I mean everyone. It can’t have escaped your attention that no one really contacts us outside of work.”

  “I had noticed you don’t seem to have much family.”

  “We have family, they just don’t talk to us all that much.”

  “Why not?”

  “They have their reasons.”

  “I guess I can understand that. I don’t talk to my dad as much as I’d like because of my stepmother.” She held up her phone and shook it. “I see most things on here. It’s my connection to home.”

  “How long have you been in England?”

  “Don’t you know?” She eyed him curiously. “I thought you’d have seen it on my resume.”

  He snorted. “Do I look like the sort of person who reads CVs? I leave that boring stuff to Kurt and Sean.”

  Her tone was gravelly as she murmured, “Yes, that was silly of me.” God, he was too freaking cute sometimes. “I’ve been here six years.”

  “Why did you move?”

  “For a boyfriend. He got a job here, and I didn’t want to leave him, so I came with him.” She sighed. “That didn’t last long. The move was stressful, and his job took up more of his hours. I was kind of lonely, found it hard to adapt here, and was homesick… he started having an affair with his PA. I left and found a job with an agency. Fell, by chance, into this line of work.”

  “You haven’t always been a housekeeper?”

  She chuckled. “I’m not sure it’s one of those types of professions, Devon. But no. I majored in hospitality and management, but I didn’t want to work in a hotel or anything like that. When the agency saw that on my resume, they said they had a client who wanted someone to ‘manage’ their household. I did, liked it. Carried on with it.”

  “Why did you leave?”

  �
�They moved to Dubai.”

  “You didn’t want to go?”

  “I could have gone. They asked. But I like London now.” She smiled. “It’s home.”

  “You called the States home.”

  She jerked a shoulder. “I have two homes. One where my old friends and family are, then here, one of my choice and a life of my own making.”

  “Would you move back?”

  “Are you asking because you think I’ll leave?”

  “Everyone leaves us,” he repeated.

  “Don’t give me a reason to, and I won’t.”

  “What kind of reason?”

  “I don’t know, don’t be jerks. Don’t treat me like shit. Don’t underappreciate me.”

  He rubbed his chin. “That seems very basic.”

  She snorted. “Women are basic creatures. Pet us, keep us warm, feed us, love us and tell us you do, then we’re happy.”

  “I should probably write that down.”

  Sascha chuckled. “I’ll remind you. Don’t worry.”

  “Do,” he directed with a somberness that had her eyes widening; it was unusual for him to be so serious. “I don’t want to mess this up, Sascha. I like you.”

  Her smile grew slowly. “I like you too, Devon.”

  “Good. That’s a start, isn’t it?”

  “It’s a great start.”

  “You like us all?”

  She nodded. “I wouldn’t have…” She placed the pizza she’d been chomping on back in the greasy box. As oregano and tomato assailed her senses, she confessed, “I wouldn’t have started something if I hadn’t thought I could finish it.”

  “You mean, you wouldn’t have slept with Andrei if you weren’t willing to take us all on?”

  “Say it like it is, Devon,” she teased. “But yes. Right on the nose. I want to be a part of your family. Does that sound weird?”

  “I suppose it does. Well, to average people, but average people are so boring, aren’t they?” he asked conversationally. “Their opinions don’t matter.”

  “Well, I’m not sure that’s wholly accurate,” she countered with some tact.

  “No. It is. What you just said makes perfect sense. You’re happy here. You fit in with us, and you make us happy too. What could be better than embracing it and letting it form into something unique that will brighten our lives?