The Virgins Double Bosses: A MFM Billionaire Menage Romance

by Sullivan, Shae

  “And?”

  “And that she wanted to get back on her feet. What are you thinking, brother?”

  Elijah smiled. “I'm thinking we offer her a job.”

  I laughed. “At our hotel? You're the joker, now.”

  “No, as part of hosting events. You know we like throwing those wild parties. She could come in, cater for us, and then we could lure her in like a kitty who wants milk.”

  “You're demented.”

  “Oh, hush—you're the one who wanted to do this.”

  “Like it doesn't turn you on to share?”

  “Maybe not yet. Though she exudes confidence, I can tell she's a virgin.”

  I snorted. “How can you tell that?”

  “What, you can't? The way she carries herself and crosses her legs—it's like she's guarding a little secret.”

  I hummed thoughtfully. “She did get visibly upset when I started laying down the heat.”

  “And then what did you do?”

  “I changed the subject to food. She was more than happy to follow that route.”

  “Sweet and innocent.”

  I smiled warmly, imaging her sitting on my lap. “I don't think I could handle myself, Elijah. I want this one.”

  “But we have to be careful,” Elijah warned. “Because if she's a virgin like I think she is, then it's going to be very difficult to get her in bed.”

  “If she gets into bed at all.”

  “She's going to be guarded and, honestly, I don't want to break her. We have a tendency to be a little...rough. So, we're going to have to ease her into the water very gently.”

  “I can get the ball rolling on hiring her. I'll just need to hire some waiters for her business.”

  “That's a good start, but make sure you don't lay in on too thick like you just did here. She might run off again.”

  “We'll have to play this right,” I said while stroking my chin thoughtfully. “She's going to need confirmation that this is going to work for her without any other competing business getting in the way.”

  “Are you thinking sabotage?”

  I grinned mischievously. “Not yet, brother.”

  “Just don't act like a fool again. I know you like to be the class clown, but sometimes that gets you into trouble.”

  Elijah stared me down like a father who was disappointed in my line of work. I basked in the nostalgia I was feeling, the same prideful connection I felt when we were in college doing the same thing. It wasn't just a game—it was a lifestyle. This was just who we were. And as quickly as he had looked disappointed, his features broke and he looked warm and joyful again.

  “I look forward to working with you again,” he stated.

  “Do you really think it's going to work? It's not that I'm prone to having doubts. It's just that...she's so beautiful. I can't stop thinking about her ever since she left.”

  “No one has ever had that effect on you before. What caused it?”

  “Her scent...” My eyes clouded over as I recalled the encounter from just a few minutes ago, the sweet scent of nectar coming off her skin in waves and assaulting my nostrils. I had welcomed it; cherished it. “I don't know, Elijah.”

  “Well, focus on how we're going to get her into the business and then don't worry about it. Just handle everything like you would any other catering business.”

  “That's fair. Do you want me to order you a different drink?”

  Elijah regarded the martini next to him with little interest. He wasn't exactly interested in fruity drinks, but he lifted it anyway, shrugged, and started sipping it down before I could flag down the waiter. When he was finished, he set the glass down and looked very matter-of-factly at me.

  “Don't fuck this up, Arthur,” he said sternly.

  “Oh, I plan on fucking her.”

  “You're such a goddamn clown. Just get the deed done so we can start moving forward. She's the perfect candidate for us both: independent, organized, charismatic, and business-oriented.” He paused briefly before adding, “Did you give her your last name?”

  “Of course not,” I huffed. “Why the hell would I do that? She can't know who we really are or else the only reason she would stay would be for the money.”

  “And you're sure she didn't recognize you?”

  I winked. “Positively, if she thought I was you.”

  “I don't really care if she stays for the money.”

  I scoffed. “Yes, you do, Elijah. Don't lie to me. You cared the last time that happened.”

  "That was different. That girl was snooty, and she didn't respect us for who we were."

  My gaze softened as I lowered my voice and leaned over my drink, saying, "I just don't want to see you get burned again. You're my best friend. You're pretty much my brother at this point, and I don't want somebody to get between us—unless it's in bed."

  Elijah chuckled, his features remaining somewhat stern. I swear he's like a robot sometimes. He hardly shows much emotion, and he never admits when something really bothers him. But I figured a woman of strong stature—a delectable woman like Belle—might be able to make him gentle. Not soft, just gentle, perhaps a little vulnerable. He held up the empty martini glass between us and I clinked my glass against his.

  “To another business adventure,” he said. “May it be fruitful.”

  I sat back in my chair, satisfied. Though I couldn't get Belle out of my head, I knew exactly what I needed to do. This was my chance to really bring someone in who would honor us both. She was excellent on paper.

  I wondered how she would do in bed the first time?

  Chapter 3

  Elijah

  Arthur had been right—her scent was overwhelming. As much as I tried to hold my facade, I could barely do so in her presence. Her entire body was shimmering with delight, with the potential connection that she was making. She had been shining like a radiant star in the cosmic sky, ready to burst with energy.

  At least, up until I had approached the table.

  Maybe this wasn't the right plan. I was worried about her reaction to us from the get-go and wasn't sure if she would ever be interested in two men. But where else were we going to find a classy woman with a good head on her shoulders? A dungeon?

  I think not.

  While watching her speak to Arthur, I had the strangest sensation running through my gut. It was one of familiarity. I had never met Belle before, I had only seen her in pictures from my research, yet I felt as if I had known her for centuries. It was like we had a connection that spanned across the hands of time, right on through the most recent societal advancements leading all the way up to this moment.

  When I approached, the feeling was much stronger. It was like an electrical zap between us, and I couldn't help the way I felt or the way I looked at her. Maybe I had come on too heavily. Though I had chastised Arthur just moments ago for the same thing, I couldn't help myself. She had put a spell on me—and on Arthur—and I think we were hooked.

  I held my chin and squinted at the table. The placard was gone. “Do you think she'll call us back?”

  “When do you ever worry about something like that?” Arthur raised his hand to the waiter and motioned for two vodka tonics. “Besides, if we scared her off, then the plan is the only way to get her back.”

  “Sure, but—what if she does?”

  He shrugged. “I don't know, brother. You're the one who created this whole scenario.”

  “Well, I'm having my doubts.”

  “Don't brood too hard over it. You'll deepen those lines in your forehead.”

  I glared at him. “I do not have lines in my forehead, Arthur.”

  He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fine—no lines.”

  “Thank you.”

  When the waiter brought our drinks, I left him a handsome tip and slurped it down in nearly one gulp. I could feel the stress creeping up my back. I needed a release.

  “Seriously, though, you need to stop worrying. You're going to make your h
ead explode,” Arthur pointed out.

  I sighed. “I need something else to explode right now.”

  "I could call someone. We could turn up the heat in an hour if you want."

  “No,” I said while shaking my head. “I want Belle.”

  “She's got you, too, eh?”

  “I suppose so.”

  As I sipped my drink, I felt my phone buzz. I glanced at the screen and noticed our assistant was calling us back in. I gestured to Arthur that we had to go and we downed our drinks further before dropping some bills on the table.

  “Let me guess,” he said. “Nora is freaking out over something or other.”

  “A bellhop showed up to work drunk at our Haven Street location.”

  “So, fire him on the phone.”

  “I think this requires some delicacy.”

  Arthur shot me a hard look. “Like you really care whether he stays or not. How about just hiring a new guy who is serious about his job?”

  “Maybe you're right.”

  “Okay, that's weird.” Arthur stopped in his tracks. “When the hell do you ever agree with me?”

  “Just keep walking. We can make it there in a few minutes and handle it with ease.”

  I didn't say anything else, and neither did Arthur. I suppose he noticed how sick I was becoming—how sick with desire I was. As we left the restaurant, I noticed a handkerchief on the ground. The letters engraved into it were B. W.— as if for Belle Warren.

  I lifted it from the ground and inhaled the scent—jasmine. It smelled like jasmine.

  It smelled like her.

  “Ah, a token to find her with,” Arthur commented playfully. “Are we the valiant knights searching for the lost princess now?”

  “I'm sure it was an accident.”

  “No way! She totally dropped that on purpose. She had to have dropped it with the intention of us returning it to her.”

  “We don't even know if it's hers.”

  “It is hers. I saw the look on your face. You just recognized her scent on it. Let me guess—smells like jasmine and vanilla?”

  “Just jasmine. Do you think she's still outside?” I searched beyond the glass doors with a hint of hope, then chuckled as I shook the feeling away. “No way.”

  “Face it, Elijah—you're lovesick now.”

  “There's no way. We've only met her once.”

  “And yet here you stand hoping to run into her.”

  I stared at him knowingly. “Like you don't hope for the same?”

  Arthur chuckled and headed for the door, moving at a slow pace so I could catch up. Once we were outside, we headed for the limo parked on the curb, and I ordered the driver to take us back to the mansion.

  When Arthur overheard my direction, he opposed. “Don't we have business?”

  “We do, but this is far more important than our assistant freaking out over a bellhop who got twisted. We've got to start getting the paperwork together.”

  “So, you did decide to fire that jerk over the phone.”

  I rolled my eyes at him but didn't respond.

  “What's gotten into you, Elijah? Your energy is completely off.”

  "I swear to God if you suggest that needle thing again, I'm going to deck you."

  “So hostile—you certainly need to have some fun.”

  “Is that the only thing on your mind?”

  "Oh, Elijah. You need to loosen up and let your hair down. We've got San Francisco by the balls, and you're more worried about this girl than anything else."

  “You're obsessed with her, too.”

  Arthur raised his eyebrows knowingly. “At least I can admit it.”

  I sighed. “We can go out for a few drinks, but that's it. I don't want us to get carried away and try to lure somebody else in out of overt lust.”

  He grinned. “That's the spirit, brother.”

  “But we only go celebrate after we lure Belle in. We need to make sure it's a done deal before we drink to it.”

  “I get it—don't count the eggs before hatching.”

  “That's what I've taught you, right?”

  He hummed playfully and cocked his head. “Sure, I've learned that.”

  “Putz.”

  On the way to the mansion, I became wrapped up in my head. I just wanted Belle right now, and I wasn't even sure why I wanted her the way that I did. Was it the forbidden fruit? Something about the way she carried herself told me she was incredibly guarded—and all I wanted to do was break that gate down to see the treasure hiding underneath.

  Chapter 4

  Belle

  “A job? Here?!”

  I couldn't even believe it. I was on the phone with the owner of Hotel Ortega—Mr. Ortega himself—after having just had a failed blind date. There was no way the universe was going to be this kind to me. What happened if I didn't take it? I simply couldn't risk it.

  “Well, of course, Mr. Ortega. I'd love the opportunity,” I spoke quickly.

  “Would it be possible for you to start immediately? This weekend?”

  I huffed excitedly. “Yes, of course, sir. I'd be happy to. But I have to ask something first.”

  “What's that, Miss Warren?”

  “Where did you even get my information? I haven't tried setting up a new business yet. I hardly even have any workers. They all went to other businesses in this area and I--”

  “Miss Warren?”

  My eyes widened. I must have been babbling again. “Yes, sir?”

  “Please, be assured we have people who will be more than willing to be of service to you. You're in very good hands.”

  “But sir, if you're the most successful hotel in America, why would you choose me?”

  “Because we believe in you.”

  “Who's 'we'?”

  "My associate and I—we both run this business. Mr. Powers has reviewed your credentials, and everything checks out."

  “Well, I--”

  “So, do you want the job or not?”

  I sighed. “Yes, sir. Absolutely.”

  "Great. We'll send you a car to pick you up on Friday, and we'll email you the menu we'd like for you to prepare for that evening. I'd like you to be prompt, Miss Warren. We can't fail our guests."

  “I'm happy to help, Mr. Ortega. Thank you again for the opportunity.”

  The line clicked, and confusion mixed with elation washed over me. I giddily hopped around the boxes still piled in my apartment and started sorting through them, attempting to locate my apron and cookbook. Everything was a complete mess. As much as I wanted to prepare right now, I knew better than that. I had to calm down before I exploded.

  I shoved my hand into the pocket of my dress to find my handkerchief only to discover it wasn't there. I tugged my pocket inside-out, searching the small pouch frantically. Shit, did I drop it somewhere? It was the one thing I kept from my mother, the gift she had given me when I had taken off to culinary school with only a suitcase and a copy of The Art of Cooking. Saddened to discover my handkerchief was gone, I sank into the couch.

  I cradled my phone in my hands.

  “Well, no need to cry over spilled milk, right?” I glanced up at the ceiling. “I hope it turns up soon. It's my favorite thing in the whole world.”

  As I redirected my gaze to my phone in my hands, I smiled warmly. This good news couldn't be ruined by a damn thing—I simply wouldn't let it. I wanted to call up my best friend right now and share it with her. Lord knew she would find a way to cheer me up. I just had to call her.

  The line trilled before she answered, “Hey, girl.”

  “You won't believe what just happened.”

  "You found the perfect man, and you're getting married tonight."

  I rolled my eyes. “Better than that. Better than a million men wanting to marry me.”

  “I won't know unless you tell me.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, sorry.”

  “So, go on.”

  “I got a job with Hotel Ortega as their personal catering business�
�their only catering business. I'm going to be cooking for all their events.”

  “Holy cannoli on a rollie pollie—that's fantastic! Who hired you? How did they know? You like haven't even been here more than two months.”

  “The owner himself hired me. I guess word caught fast.”

  “Well, at least you didn't have to build from the bottom, right?”

  “Oh, Sarah! I feel so blessed. We should go out.”

  “Hell, you don't have to ask me twice.”

  “I figured as much. Do you have anything sexy to wear? All my clothes feel old.”

  "Honey, you know I've got your back. Let me finish up my stuff here, and you can come over. Give me an hour, okay?"

  I smiled. “You got it, girl.”

  My heart was racing when I got off the phone. I tossed it on the couch and went to the bathroom to start getting ready. I felt like I was hot even though it was cold inside my apartment. If I could get in the shower and rinse off, I'd feel ten times better—and then I could push that embarrassing date mix-up out of my head.

  The sooner, the better.

  * * *

  The club was on fire.

  Sarah and I walked in, strutting across the silvery floor in matching purple dresses that were skin-tight and short enough to keep us from bending over. She looked much more fluid in her clothing; much more natural than me. I just felt like a wiry skeleton strapped into a pair of silver stilettos—far too skinny with little to no ass to show.

  “Ugh, these prices,” Sarah griped. “It's like we're being gutted for wanting a good time.”

  “Just get me a beer. I'm fine.”

  “No, we're drinking in style tonight.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever you say, darling. It's your paycheck.”

  As she ordered us both Midori sours, I scanned from one wall to the other, letting my eyes linger on all the people in between. It was a typical club scene with people dressed in bright, neon colors and others decked out in the latest fashion trends. This place was certainly the right one for all this flashy artistic style, but it wasn't my thing.

  Especially not this dress.

  I stared at Sarah, admiring how confident she looked. I felt like too much of a vixen. I didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea, but I did want to be checked out. It would help erase my strange encounter earlier and maybe get me on a better track—though, this was probably the worst possible place for locating good men.