Shared: A Dark MFM Menage Romance

by Lauren Landish

  I hold her gaze when she finally looks up at me. Those dark eyes shine right back at me. She’s sure as fuck not a happy camper. Maddox really pissed her off, and I don’t blame her for being mad; I know he’s going through some shit, but she doesn’t know that or have any idea why he’s being so damn short with her. He’s real good at pissing women off. One of his many talents.

  “Everything all right?” I ask her, setting my cup on the counter.

  “Your friend has a problem,” she huffs. “Where does he get off being so rude to me when all I did was ask him if he needed anything?” Although she’s trying to sound strong, all I can hear is the hurt she’s covering up in her voice. She swallows thickly, maybe realizing how her voice cracked a bit at the end.

  “He means well,” I say simply, turning away from her to fill my cup from the tap again.

  “I’m not so sure,” she says as my back’s turned to her, the running water nearly drowning out her hushed voice.

  I lean on the counter beside the fridge and run a tense hand through my hair. We’ve been here for less than twenty minutes, and I’m already doing damage control.

  “He really does.” I force a small smile onto my face. “Think about it. We’re supposed to be at your service, not the other way around.” I’m talking out of my ass, and she knows it.

  Her lips purse and she clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I understand you’re here to keep me safe, but a bit of courtesy can’t hurt.” She squares her shoulders, and I know she’s ready to fight me if I don’t side with her. This wouldn’t be the first time a woman tried to play us against one another, but it is the first time I’m on the woman’s side though.

  “Maybe.” I shrug and take another sip before walking toward her and lean against the island across from her. Her dark eyes instantly soften and the flecks of gold show her true vulnerability. “Look, don’t let it get to you.”

  “Trust me, I won’t. I know his type.” Her words are low, her eyes breaking from mine as she grabs one of her books and absently opens the cover.

  I fucking hate the small frown marring her beautiful face.

  We hardly know her. Getting too personal is just going to make the lines that much more blurred. So obscured that somebody is bound to cross right on over said line and end up with Bianca writhing underneath one of us, gasping for air and begging for more. Hell, she may end up with both of us buried inside her at once if we’re not careful. I stifle my groan at the thought.

  “Maddox doesn’t usually act like that,” I say, to keep it simple.

  “Why am I having such a hard time believing that?” she asks and tilts her head at me, again not liking that I’m defending him.

  “Well sure, he can be rough around the edges,” I explain. “He’s just going through a tough time right now. Things will get back to normal in a few days.” I try to make sure my voice is light so I don’t give anything away. I ignore my dick hardening against my zipper and tell my brain to shut the fuck up as I keep thinking a good fuck is what all of us need.

  It’s not. We’re here for a job. All we need to worry about is protecting her.

  “There’s no need to make excuses for him,” she says. She places her elbows on the countertop and rifles through the books without looking closely at any particular one. “Let me get you a drink,” I suggest. I pull open the fridge door to take a look at the supplies we brought. “Do you like wine? Beer? Something stronger?”

  “Beer,” she answers, and gets to her feet, the stool scraping across the floor. My brows raise at her answer; I wouldn’t have guessed that. She’s the reason I brought the wine and vodka, but if that’s what she wants…

  Reaching in the fridge behind the soda, I pull out the entire six-pack, the rattling glass filling the tense air. She’ll need at least a couple to calm herself down. We haven’t even scouted the place yet so I need to limit myself to only one. I’ll get her settled and then Maddox and I need to get to work.

  “Try to relax,” I say, popping the cap of the bottle off with my keys and passing it to her. “No sense getting worked up.”

  “You and your grumpy colleague aren’t the only ones with stuff on your minds,” she says, not looking at me before taking a swig.

  “I’m sure it’s hard on you. Having to go off the grid must be difficult for you.”

  She closes her eyes for a second, shaking her head before taking a deep breath and answering, “The timing couldn’t be worse. I’d much rather be keeping myself busy.”

  I start to imagine how she must do that. Maybe she’s a model mafia princess, partaking in all-day shopping trips, learning family recipes, going to yoga classes and the usual hair and makeup type activities. And reading. But my gut tells me she’s more than that. More than a pretty face. More than a mafia princess.

  They used to call her B at school. I bet she’s a busy bee. My honey bee.

  “What would you be doing right now if you didn’t have to lay low?” I ask even though I’m wary of getting too close to her, or growing too comfortable with her. We’re gonna be here for a while, so we’re going to have to talk. Might as well start now.

  “Working, probably… if those bastards hadn't fucked everything up.” I smirk at the anger in her voice at the last line.

  “Judging from your reaction, it may not be the best subject to talk about…” I smile at her when her eyes meet mine. “...or the bastards who fucked it up.”

  She takes a sip of her beer and studies me with curiosity, as though she’s not sure how to react. “Why not?”

  “Because you’re less relaxed now than when I found you sitting in here.”

  “What makes you think that?” she asks and then takes another swallow.

  “The pacing around in circles is a dead giveaway,” I say lightly, a small smirk on my lips. “The vein at your right temple is also pulsing at the moment,” I joke, and her hands fly to her forehead before she realizes I’m just messing with her.

  She finally smiles. Fuck, it’s such a beautiful smile. And I put it on her face. It’s all for me.

  She shrugs and says, “Yeah, I’m stressed. And yeah, it gets to me.”

  “There’s also that nervous tapping of your left foot when you pivot around or stop.” I’d like to add that if she grips her beer bottle any tighter, my dick might start to get jealous, but I keep that part to myself.

  “You’re pretty good… at reading people.” She waits a moment before adding, “I’m just finding it hard to relax.”

  My heart goes out to her at the genuine sadness in her voice. “There has to be something that helps you unwind,” I persist, unable to resist the hope for that "activity” to involve inviting her security detail to fuck that tight pussy of hers as we watch over every square inch of her body. I clear my throat and look away at the thought.

  “I don’t see how I’ll be able to get myself a Mani Pedi here,” she says with a slight smile, but in almost the very same instant, her face falls. Bianca gulps down the rest of her beer and slumps back onto the stool.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I don’t get it.” She pushes the strands of dark hair away from her face.

  “Get what?”

  “How could wanting to be helpful make him go off?” Fuck, she’s back on that. I eye the beers on the table, but go back to my water. Scratching the back of my head and turning away from her for a moment, a small sigh leaves me. She needs to just let it go. I know for a fucking fact Maddox isn’t going to apologize. If that’s what she’s after, she’s going to be real fucking disappointed.

  “You can call him Maddox. He doesn’t mind. And the truth is, it’s complicated.” For a second time, I talk myself out of giving her some insight into Maddox’s past and why he’s so fucked up right now.

  It’s quiet for a long time as she runs her finger along the rim of the glass bottle.

  “He hates me, doesn’t he?” she asks, her voice cracking slightly before she takes another pull from the beer to p
lay it off. Her eyes never meet mine, and I fucking hate it. He really got her worked up in the worst way.

  “Of course he doesn’t.” I make sure to put every bit of strength in my voice. “How can he hate you if he hardly knows you?”

  “Is it because of my uncle?” She sets the bottle down, her eyes focused on the label as her little fingers try to pry it off. “We Russos have a way of wreaking havoc in the lives of everyone around us.” There’s a hint of sarcasm and anger in her voice. She doesn’t look at me as she talks. “Maybe your friend… Maddox, I mean. Maybe something my uncle did makes him act that way toward me.”

  “No. Trust me. It’s not you, or your uncle.” My chest feels so damn tight. I shouldn’t give a fuck. I should tell her to go to her room and sleep it off and get my ass to work. But I can’t stand seeing her so damn upset.

  “He sure acts like he can’t stand the sight of me.”

  “I promise you, that’s not it.”

  “How can you be so sure?” She doesn’t wait for me to respond to her question. "I’ve already had a theory… that the fewer degrees of separation there are between a person and the Russos, the shorter their lifespan will be.” She lets out a breath of nervous laughter. “The name ‘Russo’ is probably a row in those actuarial tables that insurance companies use to set premiums.” A small grunt of a laugh leaves me, but it’s laced with melancholy. “People around us have a way of dying. That’s what we do. We prune family trees. The Russos create widows and orphans.”

  The word orphan strikes me hard, and the smile slips from my face. She doesn’t know though. She didn’t mean any offense.

  Bianca is slouched in her chair by the time the last word escapes her lips. It becomes crystal clear that all the levity in her voice is a front, covering up a deep-seated sadness. Her despair hangs in the air around her like a dark, heavy cloud.

  I do my best to change the subject altogether. “You should get some rest.”

  “I’m not tired,” she says softly, a hint of pleading in her voice.

  “Maybe not, but you are upset.”

  I should send a stronger message to convince her to turn in for the night, but I can’t. She’s so close to crying, to cracking under the weight of all this shit she has no control over, that my gut sends me in a direction I don’t want to go.

  “Maddox is a little moody because he’s grieving right now.” I nod my head, ignoring the wave of betrayal going through me. I swallow thickly before adding, “It’s not you, I promise you.”

  I take the stool next to her, easily sitting in the seat and noting how she doesn’t back away in the slightest. This is the closest we’ve ever been.

  “Why’s he grieving?” she asks me, her eyes full of equal parts curiosity and empathy. She leans closer to me and I’m not sure if it’s because of the desire for her to get even closer, or because I need to confide in someone that I let the words slip out.

  “It’s the anniversary of his father’s death,” I say softly, holding her gaze.

  She pulls back slightly, her eyes darting behind the room as she practically whispers, “I heard about that.” A chill runs along my skin as I ask, “What’d you hear?” There were a lot of rumors in school when Maddox killed his father. A lot of bullshit. And a lot of lies.

  “Just that he killed his dad,” she says.

  “He did, but it was an accident.”

  Bianca’s lips fall open and she nearly says something, but then she closes them and looks away. “What?” I ask her, my guard raised and my heart pumping hot blood. “It was an accident. I know it was.” I’m quick to defend him, my voice hardening.

  I know for a fucking fact it was. I was the first person he called.

  “I believe you,” she says and her words instantly relax me. “I just,” she licks her lips, her eyes flickering to the doorway and then back to me, “I think his dad had it coming.”

  I nod my head once, but I don’t say a damn word.

  “He beat Maddox, didn’t he?” she asks, her voice barely above a murmur.

  “Yeah,” I answer her while my hands clench into fists in my lap. Back then, the two of us recognized something in each other. No one else knew what it was like. They’d ask questions, try to help, or worse, give us sympathetic glances. At least I could leave the assholes who smacked me around, I was in and out of the system because of it. But Maddox… his father was his abuser. There was no one there to call. No one to listen.

  But I was there. We made a pact we’d always be there for each other. That night brought us even closer. I’m not sure anyone else could ever understand that.

  “The night it happened,” the words slip out of my mouth as I absently pick at the loose threads in my jeans. “He got drunk, Maddox’s old man was good for that.” I shake my head remembering how he always reeked of bourbon. Every penny he made went to booze. I start talking just to get it off my chest. “I never knew my parents, but I’d like to think if they'd kept me they wouldn’t have used me as a fucking punching bag. I learned not to expect that same courtesy from my foster parents.”

  I shake my head, and my eyes glaze over with the memories of each and every one of them who turned me away or beat the shit out of me until I couldn’t take it anymore. “Like, it’s gotta be different when it's your own kid.”

  I take in a long inhale and say, “At least that’s what I thought until I met Maddox.” I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose remembering how his father went after him the last time I saw him. His old man busted a bottle of cheap bourbon over Maddox’s head. The shattered glass left a deep gouge in the back of his skull and fuck, the blood. There was so much blood I was scared he’d killed him.

  He just stood there, towering over his son with the jagged glass in his hand, daring Maddox to get up.

  I’ve never felt the same fear ever again. Each time after that it was worse and worse. I wasn’t surprised Maddox killed his old man. I’m just glad he did it before his old man killed him.

  That night Maddox lay there taking the kicks from his father’s boots in his ribs, afraid to get up 'cause we both knew he’d use that glass to do more damage, and at least the boot wouldn’t kill him outright.

  I pause my memory at the faint sound of Bianca crying. I hadn’t realized I’d been talking out loud. Her eyes are glassy and she’s trying to hold back tears. Shit.

  “It’s okay,” I tell her softly, and my fingers itch to comfort her, but I can already tell pulling her into my lap and holding her soft body is going to lead to more. “I didn’t mean to make you upset,” I tell her while my fingers grip onto the stool and my knuckles turn white.

  “It’s not,” she says in a cracked voice while shaking her head. “It’s not okay.”

  Her body shakes with sobs that take her breath away. It takes her long minutes for her gut-wrenching reaction to come to a close, and there’s not a second that passes by that I don’t want to jump out of my chair, cross the space between us and hold her close, but I don’t. I can’t cross that line. No matter how much I want to.

  “It was a long time ago, but he just has a hard time handling the memories.” I try to explain to her as best I can without getting her so worked up.

  “I never knew,” she says quietly after some more time passes. She picks up the small pieces of shredded label off the counter and sniffles some as she gets off the stool and tosses them into a small trashcan at the end of the island. “God, here I was thinking it was me, or my uncle. I’m sorry for being so… self-centered.” Her sad eyes look back at me; they’re red rimmed and filled with pain. Bianca reaches across the countertop and places her hand over mine.

  A spark goes through me, her touch igniting something raw and primitive inside of me. “Thank you for confiding in me.” Her eyes move from mine to the counter as she says, “I’ll apologize in the morning, and I’ll try to give him some space.” I pull my hand away, looking at the entry to the kitchen and ignoring the need to comfort her the best way I know how.

  I
t’s a job. She’s a job.

  I scratch the back of my head before looking back at her. I’m painfully aware that it’s not my place to share Maddox’s past. Still, I have no remorse. Bianca’s calm, and more importantly, she seems comfortable around me. Hopefully around both of us.

  “It was a long time ago,” I tell her again, “and we’ve been through a lot since then. He’s a good man, I promise you that.”

  Her eyes reach mine, and there’s something else there now. I wonder if she felt it, too. “Do you mind if I ask… are the rumors true… about you and Maddox?” Her question catches me completely off guard.

  My ego starts to kick in at the knowledge that Bianca has heard rumors about us. We’re on her radar? We must be moving up in the ranks for her to have heard our names.

  “What rumors?” I ask.

  She smiles coyly, tucking her dark locks behind her ear. “Well, you work together, you’re partners in a growing security business, and you served in the military together. Those are all true, right?”

  “Yes.” I put both my hands on the counter and nod my head. My brow furrows as I wait for whatever else she’s heard.

  “Is it also true that…” Bianca turns a shade of red, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think she was about to die from embarrassment.

  “Is what also true?” I prompt her. She’s piqued my interest now. Spit it out, honey bee.

  “Um, you know what? Never mind. I’m overstepping some boundaries by asking.” She shakes her head and says, “Forget I ever asked.”

  “Just say it,” I insist.

  Her eyes avoid meeting mine for a long beat. Then she takes a deep breath. “I kinda heard that you’re into threesomes… like, uh, sharing one woman… casually, of course,” she half-stammers out between shy little giggles that make my dick hard as granite. “You know how girls tend to talk.” She looks at the ground, intentionally avoiding my piercing gaze as she tucks another lock behind her ear. “It’s probably a rumor, like most of the stuff I hear from some of my girlfriends. Sorry I brought it up.”