The Virgins Double Bosses: A MFM Billionaire Menage Romance

by Sullivan, Shae

  “Maybe I like being by your side, Elijah.”

  “Well, maybe we like it when our boundaries and property are respected by our associates, not sought after like hungry beasts.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Arthur, do you have anything to say about this?”

  Arthur turned with an unmoved gaze and shrugged. “What is there to say? This one over here is just going to override whatever I feel.”

  “You two are just the worst sometimes, you know that?”

  “Oh, us? You're the one who's been getting the royalty treatment since day one.”

  “Arthur, shut it,” I commanded.

  He gestured to me. “See? Override engaged. He's been doing this since we met you. It's like he wants control over every little decision about you.”

  Belle glowered with anger. “So, let me get this straight—we met by accident at a blind date and then you two decided to chase me. You wooed me in, gave me a job, and little by little sucked me into giving you my virginity. Did you two plan on that originally or was that just a perk?”

  “If you want to be so deadpan about it, sure. That's right,” I replied.

  “So, this was just sport for you? Is that why you had all those clothes in that bedroom?”

  Neither of us replied. I didn't even want to look at her, but I couldn't look away. Her eyes were fiery despite their bright color, drilling into me. She wanted an answer. I could tell.

  “Darling, we don't do this with everyone,” Arthur assured.

  He had drawn closer to her, but she had stepped back with every step.

  “There are others,” she stated flatly. “I should have known.”

  “This is different,” he insisted.

  “It's not. I'm just another poster for your wall; another stamp for your passport, right?”

  I groaned. “Do you have to be so polarized about it? See, Arthur? We shouldn't have taken her virginity. Now, she'll hold it against us forever.”

  She gaped at me, amused. “Oh, you think I just wanted to give it to you to get something? Boy, you must have some sort of egocentric thing going on because it is not all about you.”

  “Then, what is this about? I don't see why you're being such a bitch.”

  I felt the heat fill the room as soon as I said it—and I really shouldn't have called her such a derogatory thing. Her shoulders sank, and her glowing rage faded quickly, sinking into such a hurtful glance that I couldn't bear it. She covered her breasts suddenly and nodded, tears filling her eyes.

  “Fine,” she whispered. “Take me home.”

  When she disappeared, Arthur drew close to me. “Do you see what you just did?”

  “Oh! Like you were fucking helping with this?”

  "She was vulnerable and afraid. She doesn't know what to do with this jerk tagging along behind us, and you just made it worse."

  “You mentioned us making decisions about her. Why did you do that?”

  “It isn't about you, Elijah. This is about her comfort and care. Don't you love her?”

  I stepped back, practically cowering at the mention of love. “How dare you ask me such a thing?”

  "Face it, Elijah. We're lovesick, and we love her. She whispered it to us while you were in the shower. She whispered it to me.”

  “Well, you two can have each other.”

  He shook his head with frustration. “You don't understand. She loves us both.”

  I considered the statement for a brief moment, walking away from Arthur to take to the liquor cabinets. I needed a drink. I needed to recalibrate.

  I sighed. “She stepped into our conversation. I don't like that.”

  “That doesn't mean she deserved to be called a bitch.”

  “I guess not.”

  I popped open a bottle of scotch and poured myself a glass, not bothering to offer any to Arthur.

  “We need to cut that contract and show her we're serious about having her in our lives,” he pressed on. “I'm sure it would be the right thing to do.”

  “Maybe the right thing to do is fly home and go our separate ways.”

  “How can you be so cold about this? God, it's like you have a glacier for a heart.”

  I set my drink down firmly on the counter. “I don't think you understand the gravity of this situation, Artie. She's costing us money. That contract is about to be tanked whether we keep her or not and it's because of this stupid adventure.”

  A door slammed, cutting me off. I looked up to see Belle with tears running down her cheeks and her suitcase in hand. She was wearing skinny jeans with a loose yellow blouse that showed off her white bra straps and delicate shoulders.

  “I'm leaving,” she stated.

  She went to the elevator, slapped the button, and stumbled inside as quickly as possible. It was a heartbreaking sight that I didn't want to see. I didn't want to feel this. I didn't want to watch her go. Yet I felt utterly compelled to blame her—for everything.

  What the fuck was wrong with me?

  “You're afraid,” Arthur said as if reading my thoughts. “You love her.”

  “Shut up, Artie.”

  I gulped down my scotch and dropped the cup on the counter, not minding whether it fell over the edge or not. I didn't care anymore. I felt empty.

  I traced the edge of the counter with a finger. “There's nothing to fix but this shitty contract. We'll go home. We'll take the next best step from there and get going reeling in the big bucks like usual.”

  “I'm not following you, brother.”

  “What?”

  “I'm not following you this time. You're on your own.”

  And with that, he left, too.

  Chapter 25

  Arthur

  I struggled with the elevator buttons while the doors closed, fumbling with my keys and dropping them out of frustration. With a sigh, I knelt to lift them up from the ground. Elijah was being absolutely impossible, and Belle had taken off—it looked like I wasn't going to win in this situation.

  And neither of them would either.

  While the car took me down to the main floor, the music wafted through the speakers. It was a cheery tune that I didn't much care to hear at the moment, but I let it seep in any way, trying to find a sense of serenity in the pseudo-silence of the traveling car. I tucked my hands into my pockets and stared at my loafers.

  I didn't understand how things blew up so quickly. One minute, it was just Elijah and me discussing the situation while trying to figure out our options. The next minute, it was a full-blown argument. I didn't understand the triad dynamic that didn't just apply to one-night stands, so I wasn't sure what to do.

  Was there anything I could do?

  The bell dinged, and the doors parted, revealing a tiled path for me to take. Everything looked like it was part of a country house with furnishings that were mild antiques and metal farm equipment set up as décor. There was a lounge near the front desk with a bar, and I wandered inside, hoping to find something else to lift my spirits that wasn't corny elevator music.

  In the corner of the lounge, I spotted Belle sitting at a table by herself with her suitcase at her side. My heart sank. It was a depressing sight, one that I didn't think I'd ever be prepared to see. But here it was. And I didn't feel good about it.

  Part of me wanted to walk over and apologize while another part of me wanted to take off. What could I do here? There wasn't much I could say other than a mumbling sorry for what had happened and maybe even a few bullshit excuses for why. I mean, there wasn't much that could be excused—Elijah was a being a total shitbag, and I was just...being me.

  I felt like a mouse in a trap. What was left for me to do?

  Sighing, I wandered a table nearby that was out of sight for Belle. I wanted to hide, but I also wanted to keep her within my range of vision—just in case. I ordered a whiskey sour from the bar and cradled it on my napkin, holding the cold glass between my hot hands. I felt like a pervert trying to watch her, but I just didn't know what else to do.

&
nbsp; I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened a message to Elijah. But just as quickly, I tucked it back into my pocket. If I told him she was down here, he might come down for round two of that argument, and I didn't want us making a scene here. Instead, I watched, and I waited.

  As Belle nursed her martini, I noticed a figure approaching her—that dreadful Mr. Chang. He smoothly sat at the table across from her and leaned in close, acting like he was her best friend of ten years. I hated the way he looked at her, and I despised how he gestured at her body as if she was a doll who he could demolish with his eyes.

  There were specks of dirt on the front of his suit jacket that looked like it might have been from the stable. He even wore the same smug grin that he was wearing when he had wandered towards Elijah and me on his high horse. It was a literal and ironic visual that had prompted a joke, but now I felt the joke laying flat in my belly, heavy as rocks.

  I sneered in his direction. How dare he approach Belle when we weren't around. I was overwhelmed with the same sense of rage that I now understand Elijah had held. No wonder he was riddled with anger. It was disgusting to watch, a truly deplorable sight. He was practically begging her, it appeared, to do something with him. But she kept shaking her head. I was proud of her.

  As their conversation continued, I stood up and walked idly around the bar to get within earshot. I wanted to know what he was pressing her so hard about. I took a seat at the bar and turned my face away, keeping my demeanor casual. I leaned over to my left a bit to get a better ear on them.

  “...don't understand why it wouldn't work.”

  “Because I don't want to work for you.”

  “But I can offer you double what you make with them. I can offer you the most lavish house you have ever seen in your life just for you. I can give you treasures you've never thought of in your most wildest dreams. The world could be yours…with me.”

  “You have a wife, Mr. Chang.”

  “Why does that matter so much to you? I know you're banging both of those grubby vultures. I've heard the rumors of how they treat women.”

  “Rumors don't matter to me. Actions matter.”

  “I don't see why you would waste your valuable time and skills on such men.”

  “Like you're any better?”

  Mr. Chang chuckled. “You're turning down the offer of a lifetime, my dear.”

  "There's nothing about you that appeals to me. I don't like the way you talk to me, and I don't like how you talk about my men. They're remarkably better than you—at everything."

  “You could be in China this instant. You could be pampered by every servant who would live to worship your feet. You could have that.”

  She scoffed. “I get worshiped by my men.”

  “That doesn't seem to be the case considering your bag at your feet. Why is that? Did they kick you out?”

  “What we do is none of your business.”

  “It's my business as long as I have a contract with them.”

  “But it's not. What they do in their private lives isn't for you to know about. Nobody gets to know about it.”

  Mr. Chang paused for a moment. “Not even you?”

  I turned for a moment, unable to keep my gaze off of them. She was staring at her martini and dipping the edge of her nail in it, twirling the olive around on the toothpick. “Not even me. What they do without me is none of my business. I respect that. You should, too.”

  I felt such pride in my gut upon hearing all of this. It felt like all was no longer lost. I stood resolutely from my stool, picked up my drink, and walked in a b-line for their table. Mr. Chang noticed me and scrambled to his feet, putting on a polite smile.

  “The lady and I were just talking business,” he claimed.

  “No, you weren't. You were trying to take her away from us.”

  “I would never do such a thing. We're business partners, remember?”

  I grimaced. “I don't think we're even that.”

  Mr. Chang's features shifted to stern arrogance. “I hope you know the gravity of what you are implying, my friend.”

  “I do, my friend, and I hope you realize that violating our terms is a complete breach of contract. We no longer will be doing business with you."

  “You can't do that.”

  “I believe I just did.”

  Mr. Chang scowled. “You'll regret this, Mr. Powers.”

  “No, actually--” I splashed my whiskey sour all over his suit jacket. “I'll regret that I'm sure, but I won't regret dropping a perverted pig like you."

  Outraged by the gesture, Mr. Chang shook his jacket to get the whiskey off and left the lounge, muttering something ugly under his breath. When he was gone, I took the chair he was sitting in and reached across the table to take Belle's hands. She withdrew.

  I sighed. “I'm sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything that happened upstairs. I should have come to your defense or tried to calm Elijah down.”

  Her shoulders sank as she resumed tracing the edge of her martini glass. “No, you didn't have to do anything. I...”

  “Darling, it's okay. You don't have to be sorry. We're sorry. I mean, I'm sorry. I can't speak for Elijah. He's a bit of a mess.”

  “I can tell.”

  “He doesn't mean to be. It's just not every day that we meet someone amazing like you. I think he just got scared.”

  Her brows furrowed together. “Why would he be scared?”

  “I think he loves you.”

  Her eyes met mine, brimming with tears. “And what about you? Do you love me?”

  I nodded, reaching again across the table. This time, she took my hands and squeezed them as little tears trickled down her cheeks.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

  She clutched my hands as if I were going to let her go. I gripped hers to let her know I wouldn't. “Listen, why don't you come back upstairs and have a drink with us. We can talk and work everything out.”

  “I'm so scared to.”

  “Don't be—Elijah just needs a gentle nudge in the right direction. He won't listen to me. But he will listen to you.”

  After a brief moment of silence, she nodded. I paid for our drinks and took her hand as we walked back to the elevator, carrying her suitcase for her. Once we were on board the car, I kept her hand in mine as we rode our way up. Everything seemed to move so fast that by the time we were in the living room, I was shocked that we had appeared there.

  Elijah was on the couch. I stayed back a few feet to give her space to do her work. She slowly approached him and set her hand on his shoulder.

  He glanced up, shaken. “Oh.”

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself.”

  She sniffled. “Can we talk?”

  Though he looked like he might bite, he caved and nodded. She took the seat opposite him and leaned forward, looking confident even though she might have also looked fragile. I admired her brilliance at this moment. She was an angel.

  “I'm sorry I left,” she whispered.

  “You shouldn't apologize for that. I'm sorry I accused you of being the problem. But I was angry. That man...that disgusting pig...was trying to take you from us. I couldn't let that happen.”

  “I understand now.”

  Elijah perked up. “You do?”

  “I understand that there is some connection here, a deep one. I feel it. And I love you.”

  He seemed to sink again, but not out of frustration, or anger, or depression, or guilt.

  It seemed to be something else.

  I took this opportunity to draw near, making sure it was okay with Belle that I get closer. She invited me in with them. I patted his shoulder and gave him an assuring smile as he sat back up and fixed his tie.

  “I...I don't know what to say,” he whispered. “Other than I love you, too, Belle.”

  She seemed to break like a dam, tears streaming from her eyes and decorating her beautiful blouse. The tears
darkened the fabric as she fell forward and dove into us, hugging us both close as she wept. I couldn't help the emotional well that overflowed in me. I felt such a loving energy from her that I couldn't deny it anymore. This was it.

  “We were meant to be together,” I whispered to her soothingly. “All three of us.”

  “I'm sorry I couldn't admit that,” Elijah said.

  “Don't worry, brother. Feelings fucking suck.”

  He laughed. “My brother—the joker.”

  She giggled through her tears and placed her head between us, hugging us close on the couch. “Never leave me.”

  Elijah and I nodded into her, reciting in unison, “Never.”

  Epilogue

  Belle

  As I bustled around the kitchen, I felt a liveliness in me that I hadn't felt in years—I was happy.

  Beyond the double kitchen doors was a chorus of sounds mingling with a string quartet somewhere in the foyer. I rushed the chocolate cake from the oven to the counter and began decorating it frantically, placing the right numbers on top of the cake and then carefully adding the candles.

  “Is everything ready in here?”

  I swung around to hide the cake, smiling like an idiot. It was Arthur peeking in front the side hallway, clutching his coat.

  “Of course!” I replied. “Don't sweat it.”

  “I just want him to be surprised.”

  “Oh...he'll be surprised.”

  "I hate that you're working on his birthday. There's so much happening out there, and I don't want you to miss it."

  “Darling, shut up. I'll be out in two seconds—I promise.”

  He nodded, smiled, and left me in the quiet kitchen where I sighed with relief. Good—he hadn't seen the cake yet. Though it was Elijah's birthday, I had a surprise for Arthur as well. And I wanted everything to be absolutely perfect whenever they received their gift. Although I was emotional over it, I had no time to be.

  I had a cake to deliver.

  After taking a deep breath, I lit the candles and headed for the kitchen door. I fixed my hair in the mirror near the door while balancing the cake in my other hand, being sure it wouldn't flop over. Once everything was in place, and my shirt looked as good as it was going to get, I pushed through the doors and watched as the lights went out immediately. Arthur must have positioned himself near the switch.