Harem: An MFMM Romance

by Abby Angel

  So it's like both sides sat down to talk about a potential alliance. But before they sat down, they used a third-party negotiator to make sure that everyone was clear how many guns each side was going to carry, where they were going to sit, and what was going to be served for dinner. With the expectation that if one side brought more fucking guns or tried to sit somewhere else, the other side and the third party mediator would both blow them out of the fucking sky.

  So until Kane Price formally declines the offer and releases Red Lion Aviation from any sort of clauses that we had, no other Firm can come in and sweep us up.

  There are two ways to do this. The first is to formally let the company we're looking to invest in know that we are not going to at this time.

  The other alternative is to let the contract lapse without renewing it.

  Nine times out of ten, the best way is to just let the contract lapse.

  That's what's got Lorna fucking spooked.

  "We're running out of time, Mason," Roy says to me from his seat. "And people may start to question your leadership if you let this one slip away from our fingers."

  That's when I fucking realize that Roy Purpus has probably been fucking Lorna.

  I turn around and look at him.

  Yeah, he's most likely the guy who she's using to round up allies for her cause. She probably bent over, shook her ass for him and grinded herself on his fucking cock before sucking it down and riding it.

  I can definitely see that. Roy used to be a happily married man before Lorna joined the Board.

  Now there are rumors that he was cheating on his wife with another woman and the affair started right around when Lorna joined. He's had wild fluctuations with his weight and has looked fucking strung out at times. I've seen the signs. That's what happens when you fucking party too fucking hard. Sniffing too much of the fucking blow at the fucking club.

  Yeah, Roy's life has definitely gotten worse in the time that Lorna has been here. I think his wife has even left him recently, taking their daughter with her.

  "You think my Board is going to try to oust me from the company that I fucking built?" I ask, hostility tinting my voice as I take a step toward the sofa that Roy is sitting on.

  But Roy's a weak fucking man now. When I first met him, he was a strong and savvy marketing executive. He now withers under my stare.

  "We're not talking about ousting you, Mason," he says defensively.

  I know the rock and hard place that Roy is fucking trapped in. Lorna probably set him up to do this. Probably fucking sucked his cock in exchange. But poor Roy, he probably didn't know the best way so he started putting together a group of Board Members to back him up.

  But now they're fucking quiet, staring at the both of us and letting Roy do all the talking. And Roy isn't used to being able to defend himself from my words.

  "That's exactly what you're fucking talking about, Roy," I say, pressing my advantage. "You walked into my office and told me that if I don't gamble with the future of my company, you're going to fucking take it away."

  Now either Lorna fucked a bunch of other Board Members when she joined or Roy has done a fucking wonderful job recruiting people because he holds his head lower. But it doesn't matter because another Board Member, Harry Trent, stands up.

  "That's not what Roy is saying at all, Mason, and you know it," he says to me. He's standing and looking at my side and I turn my body toward him as he continues. "Like it or not, when you went public you agreed and signed paperwork with the SEC that you would look out for the shareholders. And you'd listen to our advice when doing it."

  "That's not what this is fucking about," I snarl.

  "It absolutely is, Mason," Roy says, standing up. "And if you do something that we believe is against the best interests of the company based on your ego, we'll fight you on it."

  Is that a fucking threat?

  "And that is a threat, Mason," Roy says, reading my thoughts. "We'll go to the news outlets, the stock exchange, and wherever it was that we went and did the work so you didn't have to. And once we're there we will contradict the shit out of you. This company will be paralyzed and eventually destroyed when it could've been profitable for all of us.

  Roy is looking at me with a glint of jealousy in his eyes, and I realize that the odds are stacked against me.

  "How many of you here share Roy's opinion?" I ask.

  Literally every hand in the room goes up. Some forcefully. Some in an irritated fashion.

  But at the end of the day, they're fucking taking sides against me.

  Lorna's been fucking busy, that's for sure. Whatever she had been planning, she's had it ready and in motion.

  And right now, I'm staring down a fucking potential coup.

  I'll be at her fucking mercy.

  Maybe it's time I start playing fire with the fire in the same fucking fashion until I can take them once and for all.

  But that'll mean I just have to get down and dirty with the rest of them.

  Which is fine. I've had to in the past.

  There's just one person who might be upset beyond all measure with me.

  I'll leave you to figure it out.

  "What would you propose our next steps would?" I ask.

  Roy takes out his phone and dials it.

  “Hi, Lorna,” he says into the device. “I have Mason here. He wants to talk to you.”

  He hands me the phone.

  On the other line is the salvation for my company.

  The chance to live another day.

  All for the small price of my soul.

  Becca

  It drives me crazy when I send a text message, and I don't get a response for days. Especially when that someone is Mason Kane. It's been several days and I haven't seen, or heard from, Mason. He hasn't shown up at my apartment, he won't answer my texts, and he won't answer my calls.

  At work, he seems to be in meetings all day or offsite.

  It's like I'm in the Twilight Zone or something without seeing him.

  Can you blame me though, huh?

  I love him.

  I’m carrying his child.

  Oh, God. I need to tell him.

  It’s like fate is making this even harder for me to tell him than normal.

  I try to send him another text:

  "R U Alive?!"

  Nothing.

  I send another one: "This isn't funny. Can U at least let me know U R breathing?"

  He still doesn't respond, and from what I can tell, the messages are delivered, but not read.

  It's uncharacteristic of him. What did I do to deserve this?

  One minute, things are going great, and the next … they aren't going at all.

  I decide to call.

  I find him in my contacts and press the call button.

  It rings, and rings, and rings some more before finally going to voice mail. But there's still no Mason.

  It's what I expected.

  Fuck. I really need to speak to him, but given that he won't text or call me, and I can't find him at work, or even at his apartment, it's proving difficult to do.

  I've spent the last 48 hours researching Red Lion Aviation, and I'm finding more holes in the company than I've found in the slice of Swiss cheese on my sandwich today. I need to run a few things by Mason. I honestly have so many questions, and he's the only person who can help me answer them.

  I decide to call his secretary.

  "You've reached the desk of Mason Kane, how can I help you?"

  "Hi, it's Becca."

  "Oh Becca! Hi! It's been a while," she says. "It's always good to hear from you. Where have you been? I've haven't seen you on our floor."

  "I've been around," I say. "Just busy. Listen, I've been looking for Mason. Is he in the office today?"

  She thinks for a moment and then responds. “He isn't taking calls. Can I take a message?"

  "No, that's okay," I say, slightly pissed off that he’s not taking calls from me. Whatever list he made of peo
ple he’d take calls from I guess I didn’t make it. "Do you expect him back in the office today?"

  "He asked me to re-schedule all of his meetings today, so I figure he isn't planning on returning today," she says.

  "I see, do you have any idea where he might be right now then?”

  She contemplates for a moment whether or not she should give me this information and then relents. "Between you and I, he's at the Four Seasons."

  "The Four Seasons on 57th?" I ask.

  "Yes, that's the one."

  Thank you!" I shout. I hang up the phone and can barely contain myself. I need to catch Mason before he leaves. I need to leave now myself. I grab my purse and keys and throw on my coat. I run outside and hail a cab. I can feel the minutes ticking away. If I don't catch Mason at the Four Seasons, I may not have the opportunity again for a while. Especially with the way he's been playing hard to get.

  A cab pulls up in front of me and I hop in, directing the driver to the hotel.

  "As fast as you can, please," I tell the driver, and he listens because I hear the squeal of our tires against the asphalt.

  Within minutes I'm at the Four Seasons. I pay the fare and run toward the hotel, which is situated in an ideal spot in the city—minutes from Central Park and the Museum of Modern Art. But I don't have any time to gawk and take in my surroundings. Instead, I run into the lobby.

  I realize I didn't think to ask his secretary what he was doing here. Is he renting a room? Is he in the middle of a conference? Or?

  I decide to walk up to the front desk.

  There's a middle-aged woman in dark-rimmed glasses staring at me.

  "Can I help you?" she asks.

  "Yes, I'm looking for a Mr. Mason Kane. I think he may be renting a room here for the night."

  The woman types the name into her computer and my heart is racing with each click of her keyboard.

  "I'm sorry, ma'am. We don't have a Mason Kane booked for the evening."

  Fuck.

  "Thanks," I say, walking away from the desk and wondering what my next move will be. I start walking and then, by chance, notice a restaurant off of the main lobby. It's called The Garden and it's decorated with faux trees and plush, neutral colored chairs. It looks like an inviting enough place.

  When my eyes scan the patrons, I can't believe my luck. I spot Mason … and he's dining with Lorna. They seem to be smiling, eating, and drinking cocktails.

  What's he doing here, with her? I thought he wasn't even taking any of her calls?

  None of it makes sense.

  I debate whether or not I should approach them. On the one hand, if I walk up, I look like a desperate, lost puppy who can't keep her hands off of Mason. It feels like a blow to my ego. But on the other hand, if I don't talk to Mason now, there's no telling when I'll have the opportunity to again.

  I take a deep breath.

  I have to walk up to them. It's now or never.

  I have to somehow let Mason know that I need to talk to him. It's important. I swallow my nerves and approach them.

  Lorna is the first one to notice me.

  "Becca, what a pleasant surprise," she says, flashing me a smile that is anything but friendly. It's like a viper ready to strike.

  Mason looks up, and gives me a casual wave. There's nothing in his eyes or body language that suggests he's excited to see me, and it leaves me confused. Did he not receive the dozen or so text messages from me? Or has he somehow decided that he wants nothing to do with me?

  My stomach sinks.

  Maybe Lorna has finally succeeded in getting inside of his head?

  It's hard to tell. And it's driving me crazy. I have so much I need to ask him, but I can't ask him with Lorna around.

  "Would you like to join us?" she asks, motioning toward the empty seat at the table. As she says this, she slides her hand affectionately on top of Mason's and he doesn't pull away.

  Perhaps I'm right.

  Maybe she has finally gotten to him.

  Mason

  Great. Just fucking great.

  The one person—the one woman—who I really didn't want to see here at this moment is now sitting in front of me.

  She's been texting and calling me relentlessly, and I can't fucking face her. As of right now, I don't know what to say. I've been avoiding her for a reason.

  Lorna points to the empty seat at our table and then slides her cold, thin hand on top of mine. It's supposed to be an act of affection to get under Becca's skin, but instead it gets under mine. I want to recoil, but I can't. Her touch repulses me. You have no idea to what end.

  "Would you like to join us?" Lorna asks Becca.

  Please say no, please say no, please say no, I beg to myself. It's a mantra I somehow hope she can subliminally pick up, but of course I know that's wishful thinking.

  I look at Becca's face and I can see a range of emotions flash through her eyes. She's fighting the urge to leave, but she ultimately decides to stay.

  "I think I have an extra few minutes to spare," she says.

  Fuck. Of course she's deciding to stick around.

  She looks at me, trying to decipher what's going on, but I refuse to hold her gaze. I can't stomach looking at her right now. I've ignored her for this long, what's another day, right? Except that every minute at this table seems to stretch out for a fucking eternity.

  I bring my glass to my lips and take a drink of my tea. Before you shake your head, I'm not going soft. I'll be hitting the scotch soon enough, don't you worry, but for now, I'm taking it easy.

  "So, what brings you two here?" Becca asks us, her brows knitted. She's trying to act casual.

  Lorna turns to me and smiles. She brings her hand to my neck and gives it a gentle, affectionate squeeze. I can't help but picture her hand as a baby anaconda slithering around my shoulders and threatening to squeeze the life out of me at any moment.

  "We're having a romantic night out," Lorna replies.

  I nearly choke on my tea. Romantic? Is that what she calls this? That's a laugh. But of course Becca doesn't know any better. She's having a hard time wrapping her head around all of this, and honestly, I don't blame her.

  It's 360 degree change from the last time we spoke.

  It's true that I've been playing along, but this meal, together with Lorna, is far from romantic.

  Becca eyes me suspiciously, but again, I look away. I still can't stand to look her in the eyes.

  Just then, a waiter approaches us, bringing our food.

  "Here's one plate of seared Ahi Tuna ribbons, with minted Mizuna salad and soy and toasted peanut dressing," the waiter says, placing it in front of Lorna.

  "And here's one plate of basted prawns with spicy, golden pineapple, and smoked bacon," he continues, this time placing the food in front of me.

  Our entire table smells of the Far East.

  "Last, I have a side of toasted quinoa pilaf."

  He places this one in the middle and then turns to Becca.

  "Would you like to order anything ma'm?"

  She has the menu open in front of her and is scanning their offerings. Just when I think she may not actually order anything, and it was all for show, she responds.

  "Yes, I think I'll just have a salad—the Chicken Cobb, but please go light on the blue cheese … and buttermilk dressing."

  "You bet. One Chicken Cobb will be out shortly ma'm," the waiter says, nodding his approval.

  As soon as he leaves, and Lorna has Becca's full attention, she leans over and playfully kisses my neck and cheek. She's resting against my shoulder in what feels like an overly exaggerated way.

  It feels that way because it is.

  I catch a glimpse of Becca and her cheeks flush a deep pink.

  Fuck. I can barely stand it.

  This is killing me to go along with Lorna's games.

  "This place is beautiful, isn't it Mason?" Julian asks me, turning toward me all of a sudden.

  I nod, but don't say a word.

  "And this
is just the beginning," Lorna continues, raking the tips of her red fingernails through my hair and against my scalp. "We have quite the evening planned." She is now dragging her manicured hand across my chest.

  She's trying so hard to rub all of this—her and I, and this meal, and this time together—in Becca's face, and it seems to be working.

  Becca is becoming visibly upset, but she's working hard to keep her emotions in check. The waiter brings her salad and she instantly uses it as a diversion, crunching into the lettuce with her fork and scooping up some of the buttermilk dressing.

  "Darling, excuse me for one moment," Lorna says, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "I need to use the restroom; I'll be right back."

  "Take your time."

  As soon as she is out of earshot, Becca explodes.

  "Are you SERIOUS? What's going on Mason? I've been texting and calling you for days! You won't answer and you aren't showing up to the office. Are you avoiding me?"

  "It's complicated," I say.

  "Complicated? Is that all you can say? I've been needing to talk to you and you're acting as if I don't exist."

  Seeing her like this makes my stomach do somersaults. It kills me. It really does.

  "This wasn't my choice," I say.

  "I've heard that before," she replies. "Just answer one thing for me. Is all of this real?"

  "What, exactly, are you referring to?"

  "THIS! All of this … the romantic meal, all of this outward affection … you and Lorna … all of it," she says. "Are you falling for her?"

  I look into her eyes. Her confusion is palpable.

  I want to tell her how I really feel, how I meant what I said before; I can't stand Lorna, but none of that comes out of my mouth.

  For the first time in a long time, I'm nearly speechless.

  "I have to do what's best for the company, Becca," I say.

  I watch as tears tug at the corners of her eyes.

  I'm fucking dying inside. Literally dying.

  It's like someone is holding a match to my insides, burning me slowly, and there's nothing I can do about it except to allow my heart to be set ablaze.

  Becca