Three's Never a Crowd [The Corsakis Hotel 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)
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The Corsakis Hotel 1
Three’s Never a Crowd
When Evan Westchester starts to see his partner Harden Grainger in a different light, their lover Bella Drake is caught in the middle. Certain the relationship that has been her keystone is about to disintegrate, she’s helpless because her men have left her completely in the dark as to why things have started to go so wrong.
But she isn’t the only one to notice the change in Evan. Harden decides a dirty vacation away is what they need to reconnect.
Upon learning that Evan and Harden are sexually attracted to one another, what’s a girl to do but sit back and enjoy the show? Only, Evan isn’t playing nice. His ingrained beliefs about homosexuality are putting their loved-up relationship in jeopardy.
Under the heat of the Cypriot sun, can Harden and Bella teach Evan that it’s okay to love another man? Or is a ménage made in relationship-heaven doomed to failure because of outdated thinking?
Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 27,228 words
THREE’S NEVER A CROWD
The Corsakis Hotel 1
Serena Akeroyd
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
THREE’S NEVER A CROWD
Copyright © 2015 by Serena Akeroyd
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63259-200-2
First E-book Publication: April 2015
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2015 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
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DEDICATION
To Trever. My fur hero.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Epilogue
About the Author
THREE’S NEVER A CROWD
The Corsakis Hotel 1
SERENA AKEROYD
Copyright © 2015
Chapter One
With a tired sigh, Bella Drake leaned into the reception desk. The forty-hour round trip from Austin to Paphos airport in Cyprus had, not unexpectedly, been hell.
In fact, hell could only be two layovers, one for twenty hours and the other for eight.
The only upsides had been traveling first class and the rather swanky hotel Harden and Evan had reserved for them. Not that they’d taken much time to appreciate the luxurious quarters. All three of them had fallen, face first, on the bed, only to be awoken by the receptionist two hours before their flight was due to take off.
As it was, Bella’s jet-lagged eyes hadn’t even been able to enjoy the beautiful Cypriot landscape as they’d traveled to The Corsakis via limo, nor had she done much more than nod off during said fifteen-minute trip.
She just prayed the journey from hell didn’t extend to the vacation.
They needed this time away. Badly. She didn’t want to believe they were drifting apart, heading toward separation, but what else could be the reason for the distance that had suddenly appeared between them all?
The thought filled her with dread, but she packed it away, pressed it deep inside where it couldn’t see light, and rather than being fanciful, decided to be practical. Sorting through her vanity case, she looked for their reservation information, which wasn’t difficult to find considering its size—it was larger than a goddamn catalogue.
The desk in front of her was a deliciously cool slab of marble that chilled her front while the rest of her sweltered. Even though air conditioning controlled the blood-boiling heat outside the hotel’s walls, perspiration gathered at her temples and down her back, making her long for a cool shower more than the mojito—more rum than sparkling water—she’d been dreaming about since layover number one.
July in Cyprus was definitely different to midsummer on Whidbey Island on the Puget Sound in Seattle.
A tension headache tried to pound behind her eyes, but a gorgeous landscape was in her direct line of sight, and it kept the pain at bay. Running the forty-foot length of the reception desk, it was a panoramic, ultra HD photograph of this part of Cyprus’ coastline, showcasing the sigh-inducing, crystal blue waters, as well as the ancient coastlines that had been home to Aphrodite, and olive trees more gnarled than straight, having seen almost as many years as the island itself.
Behind her, the hush of the exclusive hotel was impressively calming. Opposite the reception desk, a huge arterial staircase led to a mezzanine floor. Comfortable, yet elegant sofas were just visible from where she was standing. She could see the row of candles lining the landing, flickering inside their huge glass vases, even though it was the middle of the day. The hazy illumination added a delicious mystique to the mezzanine landing, which was definitely more shaded than the light and airy reception.
The staircase’s two arms embraced a large fountain, which sat dead in the center. The splash and play of water wa
s a pleasant soundtrack to the cavernous room, and at the moment, the white noise was the last thing she needed—it could easily lull her to sleep.
Dotted here and there were chaises lounges in a deliciously cooling shade of magnolia, clubbed in threes and fours, they surrounded low tables, and were shaded from public view by upthrusting foliage—small bushes and large plants, which brought the outdoors in. The scents of the internal gardens were a delight to the senses, and she couldn’t wait until Harden, Evan and herself could occupy one of those shielded little cubby holes, and finally relax together.
It felt as though years had passed since they’d had the chance to just be. No commitments outside of the one they’d made to each other, nothing to do and nowhere to be, just a free four weeks in which they could take a step back and reevaluate their lives.
And if they wanted to do that anywhere, then this was the perfect place. The Corsakis was unashamedly for the unorthodox members of society. Or, she amended cynically, the rich clientele with unusual lifestyles.
Harden had heard about it from a friend who’d visited the place himself. Apparently, The Corsakis was a notorious vacation spot for triads. Or even those who lived in ménage a quatres...hence the seating areas. All for three to four people, never just the two. Harden’s friend had told him that extended to every part of the hotel. So, the beds were double the regular size, in the dining rooms, the tables were always set for a minimum of three, and small enclosures were dotted around the various pools for impromptu bouts of sex.
This was definitely an “Adult Only” kind of hotel.
Talk about the best sort.
It would be rather liberating not to have to hide who and what they were to each other. That was if they managed to survive the trip!
Huffing at the thought, she finally located their passports and travel documentation. It was unusual handling this herself. After five years of living with her guys, she was pretty accustomed to all of this being dealt with by one of their PAs. But this vacation was about privacy, and getting back to the heart of their relationship. No business allowed, no PAs or other members of staff permitted on board.
Handing over what seemed like a book instead of a reservation docket, thanks to all the non-disclosure agreements they had to sign before they could stay here, she nodded when the receptionist replied, “Thank you, Ms. Drake. I’ll just attend to your booking.”
The woman’s smiling face turned pink a second later, and after five years of seeing such a reaction, Bella knew Harden and Evan had appeared behind her. The woman’s wide-eyed appraisal irritated her, but she was too goddamn tired to react, even though the receptionist’s study went on for an indecent length of time.
Only when she cleared her throat did the woman realize she’d been gawking, and she bowed her head over the computer a second later.
Brows raised, Bella turned back to face her men. “Even jet-lagged you get that reaction. It’s not fair.”
Evan’s lips twitched. “It’s not like we can help it, honey.”
She rolled her eyes, refusing to be charmed as she always was by his cut-glass British accent. “I’m sure you can. There must be something you can do,” she retorted, prodding a chuckle out of Harden.
“Would you like us to start wearing head scarves?”
She grinned. “It would keep you safe from prying eyes, that’s for damned sure. But I doubt it would make either of you modest!”
“Why, honey, I do like you jealous,” Evan murmured, sliding a hand around her waist and dragging her against his side. “If my cock wasn’t even more exhausted than I am, I’d show you just how much I like it when you turn green on us.”
“Good job your cock isn’t up to anything, because my pussy has a ‘No Entry’ sign hanging up,” she retorted, ignoring his comment about her jealousy. She wasn’t jealous, she was territorial.
To her, there was a difference. She hated how other women drooled over what was essentially hers.
Harden snorted. “And what if I’m all fired up?”
“There’s always your fist and a shower,” she told him sweetly. “Although, if that’s the case, I’ll grab some matchsticks, prop my eyelids open, and watch the show. I do love it when you’re all wet and soapy.”
A growl rumbled through his chest as she flashed him a teasing glance. “Minx.”
She winked, then turned back to face the now-startled receptionist, who had quite definitely been eavesdropping. Bella sighed impatiently. “Is everything okay?”
“Why, yes, Ms. Drake. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. If you’d like to follow me, I can guide you to the Olympian Suite.”
The woman, name-tagged Catarina, trundled out from behind the desk, and with a smile, strode on ahead, inviting them to follow her.
They walked up the stairs, the sound of the bubbling waters from the fountain hiding the tap of their heels against the tiles. On the mezzanine landing, the musky scent of sandalwood combined with the heat of the candles added a sultriness to the air, one that affected her regardless of her fatigue. She let her gaze drift over more secluded clusters of chaise lounges and more candles in the rosy darkness of the area. A set of elevators were tucked away in a corner, the gleaming mirrored cabins showed her just how gorgeous her lovers were, and how shattered she looked.
Refraining from pulling a face at her panda eyes, messy hair, and the rumpled suit that had once upon a time looked good, she, Evan, and Harden settled in the elevator with the receptionist. No more than three minutes later, they arrived on a floor labeled “O” in the onboard computer. As the doors opened, she realized why this floor had an unusual marker. The hallway was long, very long, but down it, there were only three doors, which meant there were only the three suites on this very large story.
Accustomed to such luxury by now, she wasn’t overly surprised by her lovers’ extravagance. Hell, she’d have been happy in a regular room, but not Harden and Evan. They were obsessed with privacy. She supposed she could understand why—before the three of them had been in a relationship, their lives had been fodder for the public.
Evan Westchester, the son of a son of a son of a son of Hollywood legends, had had no real private life at any point of his life. Be it infancy or adolescence, from zits to girlfriend woes, it had all been fed to the papers by his media-slut of a mother. And that he’d been the first in his family’s legacy to work behind the cameras rather than in front of them, combined with his masculine beauty, only added to his appeal to the papers.
Harden Grainger was a businessman. While he’d also been born into wealth, his family were US diplomats, and most of his fortune came from a computer company he’d started during the early part of 2002. He’d created a piece of software that had sent the company viral, earning him a cool billion when he’d sold it. He’d plowed the money back into another business, and had turned that over as well. He was the twenty-first century’s Midas. Everything he touched turned to gold.
Money was nothing to these two, a fact that was reiterated when they walked into their suite. Before Catarina could do more than open the door and let them in, Evan handed her a wad of cash and murmured, “We can handle it from here. Just have the porters dump the luggage in the lounge. We’ll contact reception to deal with the unpacking later on.”
Catarina nodded and promptly disappeared, only God knew how much clutched in her fist.
“You’ll bankrupt us with those tips of yours,” Bella complained half-heartedly, peering about the suite that would be their digs for the next month.
“We can afford it, love,” he dismissed, making her roll her eyes, and take off to explore the different rooms.
It was her second time in Greece, but her first in Cyprus. She was charmed to see that the boutique hotel was unique in its décor, filled with a character that she could only label Greek.
The room was a warm rose in color, and dark mahogany furniture, a crimson carpet and soft furnishings made the entire room feel shaded. It was an optical illusion, because a wal
l of windows overlooked the Mediterranean Sea letting in huge quantities of light, but the duskiness of the décor made it feel cooler in here.
Three large sofas, with cream accents, circled a low table loaded with a huge fruit bowl, champagne in an ice bucket, and sparkling glasses. Opposite was a commode that obviously hid the HIFI equipment. The ornately carved cabinetry added to the luxury of the room. Lights were dotted here and there on occasional tables, huge urns for bases and creamy shades for tops. Magnificent curtains, grand swathes of fabric gathered together abundantly, cut out some of the light from the terrace. A huge mirror, surrounded with a gold frame, reflected the room, adding to the spaciousness of the area.
She wandered through to the bedroom, which held a huge four-poster with pineapple detailing on the posts that upthrust toward the ceiling. Double a regular-sized bed as promised by Harden’s friend, gauzy white and gold fabric drifted overhead in lieu of a canopy. A thick comforter covered the overlarge mattress, but she doubted they’d use it. Not unless the air con had a “deep freeze” button.
Bella eyed the armchair with a small side table that looked out onto the terrace, the desk at the opposite side, which was almost swamped by a huge lamp. But more than anything, the bed invited her attention.
The terrace did beckon, the sights and sounds of the sea in the distance called to her, but the comfortable mattress, with its thick, downy squashiness was a siren song. She didn’t even wait for her men to come into the bedroom, nor did she wait to strip off. Sitting on the edge, she allowed herself to enjoy the view directly opposite her for a good ten seconds, before slowly falling backward.