CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

I've never been big on micromanaging. Luna and our staff do a great job. Neither Kill nor I are needed to oversee every single detail. Which is why he's the one at our attorney's office, crossing the t's and dotting the i's before Amara's shop becomes hers and hers alone.

And I'm here. I'm watching. You bet your ass I am.

Watching her.

Getting hard from the cute, graceful way she arranges the flowers for Luna's wedding. We're in conference room number two, the one we converted into a venue for a day.

I lean against one of the walls close to Amara, pretending to look over the room. I fucking don't.

Every ounce of my focus belongs to her. Our unhinged woman in a khaki jumpsuit that hugs her breasts and round ass. With her wild blond hair tamed into two space buns on her head, she's cute as fuck.

Fucking edible.

"Look at you, so, so pretty for Luna's big day," our woman hums to the arrangement as she sets it down. "Even in the dim light, you're shiny. Making Momma proud."

My cock jerks at the attention she gives them. I cross one ankle over the other as if that'd hide the massive hard-on I'm sporting.

Nothing can hide my need for her. It takes over everything. It's everywhere. Because she's beautiful. Because her body bends to our will however we fucking want her. Because she's so pretty when she's wet, dripping, begging. Because her crazy matches mine.

Because she's the needle and the thread sewing the three of us together.

I'm obsessed. With her. With both of them.

A fatal illness, one I'll take with me to my grave.

"Hey, flower girl," I call when my already thin patience runs out.

Amara turns to fully face me. Hesitant, until I give in and wink at her. A quick one only Amara could catch. Her concentrated pout turns into a smile. Her scrunched brows shoot up.

"Everything okay?"

Better than okay. Better now that her smile shines brilliantly at me.

"These look good." I cross my arms over my chest, tilting my head. "Nice work over there."

"I'll let Opal know you like it."

I almost groan in frustration. Amara says Opal is the creative one of the two. That's bullshit. She knows her flowers. She knows exactly what to do to make them stand out.

Opal is fine. Amara is…

Everything.

"I'm telling you, flower girl," I whisper. "It's you. Just you."

She blushes, spinning on her heel to grab another arrangement and fusses around it.

Most days, the woman is feral. But I do get her flustered sometimes. I fucking love it.

My freaking heart warms at that. My fingers itch to touch her.

No.

We'll be home in a few hours. Then…

Patience isn't my strong suit, but I'm trying. For her. Case in point, I've been keeping my mouth shut about her surprise.

It's been a challenge. Amara's been mentioning the shop every single day now. Asked us why we think her parents took down the shop's listing. If she can move her flowers and plants to our penthouse.

And I. Keep. My. Mouth. Shut.

Well, not really. I open it to suck on her clit until she forgets her questions.

Semantics.

Doesn't matter. I do what's needed of me. Waiting for the special night we have planned for her for the big reveal. The night we present her with the deed of ownership with her name stamped on it.

Once this wedding is behind us.

Jesus, she's adorable, kissing the flowers she placed near the altar.

"Remind me again why I wasn't allowed to invite her?" Luna materializes next to me.

The further away she is from this place, the safer she'll be.

I can't tell Luna that, no matter how much I trust her. Same reason I need the goddamn stars in my eyes gone.

And my erection. That's a tell if I ever saw one.

Dead people. Vomit. Torn limbs.

Shit. Now, I'm leaking precum.

Butterflies. Heart-shaped balloons. Stuffed animals.

Flaccid as fuck. Good dick.

"Flower girl is nice." I twist to Luna, smoothing the sleeves of my jacket. "Too nice for this place."

"Which makes me?" She crosses her arms over her chest.

Best defense is offense.

And Luna in jeans and a gray T-shirt without a drop of makeup on her face are my ammo.

"Late."

"For?"

I level her with a Seriously? look. "I don't know much about weddings, but this isn't very bridal."

"Right after I do this last once-over. I have to make sure everything's in place."

"I'm here for that," I retort. "Since your stubborn ass refused to hire a wedding planner, I'm it. Go up to your suite."

Stop asking about Amara while you're at it.

"I'm stubborn because I want to oversee my wedding. So here I am, overseeing it." Other brides—the ones I've seen in the movies—are all smiles. Luna doesn't let up on her frown. "Also, now I'm sure you're hiding something. Answer my question, Carter. Chop, chop."

"You're nice, Luna. You are. Flower girl, she's…" I let my gaze trail to Amara. "Pure. You can tell from just looking at her that she's too good for this place. No offense."

"None taken."

Amara senses me watching her from across the room. She has her profile to me when her lips twitch in what resembles a smile. Other than that, she doesn't acknowledge me. It breaks my heart. Shreds the miserable organ right down the middle.

Killian is right. I have to tell her. Once I do, the three of us will start coming out with our polyamorous relationship. Hand holding here. A whisper there. Making sure everyone sees Killian and I haven't been fucking since I was underage or anything. Without anyone undermining us, we can keep Amara safe.

That is if she still wants us after she learns who we really are.

"Anyway." I return to Luna who's squinting her eyes. She hates secrets. Welcome to the fucking club. "None of our suppliers need to know what we're doing here."

Technically not a lie. Our staff's being made aware of it for their own safety. They have to. They roam the halls, clean the rooms, and handle these people on a daily basis.

Our suppliers, on the other hand, pop in and out of the hotel. They shouldn't run into trouble with our members.

Shouldn'tbeing the operative word.

"One of them might say the wrong thing, and I'd have to kill them." My psycho smile pops out for a visit. "I'm always down for that. Killian…a little less."

"Carter, it's a wedding." A man I don't recognize calls to Luna. She turns to a guy who must be the hairdresser the way he's wielding an iron curler like a weapon. "Amara is fun. She's worked hard on the flowers. Don't be a jerk, tell her I want her as my guest."

"Yes. It's a wedding. Weddings mean drunk people." I wipe the smile off my face. She has to realize how serious I am. "You invited some members. Had your family and friends sign NDAs. That's your business. Our suppliers are mine."

"Luna, your bridesmaids are ready and you're still here," the man calls to her. "In what world does that make sense?"

"In mine." She grins at him. The psycho grin she's learned from watching me. The guy flinches. Then she turns to me and says, "I'll be expecting to see her there. Today is my day, and for once, you will be the one to do as I say."

"Fine, fine." I wave her away like the annoying little sister she's becoming. "I'll talk to the flower girl."

"Maybe you'll even grow a pair and ask her out." Luna whirls around and saunters over to her scared-looking hairdresser.

Thank fuck for that comment. If Luna hasn't noticed something's up between us, no one has. Relieved, my eyes wander back to Amara. She dotes over the flowers and talks to them. Hasn't stopped since she got here.

Sweet. Cheerful. Totally unsuspecting.

All it'd take was just one person to slip up to take it away from her. Her trust in us would be forever severed and it'd be my fault.

Still…

No one will mess with Amara if I hover around her. Be her bodyguard.

Amara will have a fun night out. With us sort of, and with the rest of the people here too. She's cute and bubbly. Anyone would be insane not to want to be her friend.

Insane, or dead by my hands.

Amara gives her flowers one last kiss before straightening. Adjusts the collar of her jumpsuit. Smooths the fabric around her hips.

My gaze rakes the venue, looking for threats. Anyone who looks at her a second too long will end up in pieces.

Focus.

A night out. Fun times for Amara. That's what matters. We'll watch her from afar, and it'll be our twisted little idea of a date. Just until we're able to offer her something better.

Why the fuck not?

"Flower girl," I yell.

Her grin is goofy and sweet. "I'm Amara."

"Whatever."

My attitude has her biting her lip to suppress a laugh. She can't stop her shoulders from shaking, though.

I fight my own smile. "You almost done? I need a word."

"One sec, Mr. Steele." She turns her back to me, playing with a flower.

She's not actually arranging it. She's being a brat. Slapping me yesterday and the punishment she got turned her on.

"In my office," I bark and head out before I bend her over and spank her raw. "Now."

Her heels clink in the hallway right behind me. She wants my attention. I want hers just the same. I'm whipped as fuck.

We stop before the closed door to the office. "Amara."

My serious expression doesn't bother her. She grins, hopping in place. "Carter."

The scent of her arousal is everywhere. Clouding over her jasmine scent. Driving me crazy.

Opening the door for her, I step aside. "Right this way."

"Am I in trouble?"

From the corner of my eye, I see Killian slamming his laptop closed. Guess he's back early. "In trouble for what?"

"No one's in trouble." I close the door behind me, lean against the wall and cross my ankles.

"So?" Amara steps toward me, her hands lifting to my neck. "Boss?"

"Scratch that." I curl my fingers around her wrists. "No one was in trouble."

Killian gets up, his dark eyes watching us curiously.

Amara senses his presence the same as she does me. She glimpses back, licking her plump lips. "And now?"

"You were being a brat back there." I yank her toward me, and she whimpers. "Not so brave now, are you, pet?"

Yeah, she's brave. She's also turned on by the promise of pain.

Killian rounds the desk. He walks toward us, grabbing one of her space buns and tugging. "You've been bad, beautiful girl?"

With her head to him, she rolls her eyes playfully. "Hmm. Maybe. Yes."

He bends to press a kiss to her lips. I see him baring his teeth, turning the soft kiss into a painful bite. She groans with pleasure and puts up a fight at the same time.

"Cute little prey." I marvel at the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Killian knows how to pull her hair. "You'll get spanked for it, tonight. When we get back from the wedding."

Those are my last words before Killian releases Amara. He has his hand around the side of my neck, dragging my lips to his. Kissing me with the taste of Amara's blood on his tongue.

He'd never been overly lovey-dovey as my stepfather. He'd been a good one, no doubt about that. Had done everything right. But we never hugged. No forehead kisses. Neither of us had been into that.

At most, he ruffled my hair when I punched a kid who bullied me. And that didn't happen often. Most kids hadn't fucked with me.

This warm possessiveness, I've only ever received it from Amara.

Having Killian's tongue part my lips, slipping between them and rubbing against mine without thinking about sex, feels nice. Real fucking nice.

Jesus, these people are turning me into a softie.

One of my hands slides from Amara's body. My fingers make a fist around Killian's tie, gripping him just as possessively as I yank him to me. Amara wiggles between us, moaning so pretty from watching us.

Fast—way too fast—he pulls away. His breaths are ragged, lips swollen. My cock strains against my pants when Amara reaches up to swipe my saliva from his bottom lip.

"Aww, you two are so cute."

Amara's cooing sobers me the fuck up. First, I'm pussy-whipped by her and now…what? I'm dick-whipped?

And who'll stick a knife into asshole members and people trying to attack her?

Yeah, no. I'm not fucking dick-whipped. Or pussy-whipped for that matter.

"You're bad." I tug on her free bun, knowing she'll gasp. She does, and I spit between her beautiful, crimson lips. "So fucking bad."

"Carter." Killian clears his throat. "You didn't call Amara here to fuck her. Right?"

"That's right."

"What's going on, then?"

"You, flower girl, were invited to the wedding. By Luna." I grab her by the neck, loving the feel of her throat bobbing when she swallows my spit. "You're coming."

Her eyes brighten. I cast my gaze up to find Killian's pitch-black ones.

"We discussed this." He pins me with a glare. One that says, You know damn well why she shouldn't be there.

"Luna asked and I made an executive decision."

My blatant disregard earns me his scowl and Amara's excited yelp.

"Thank you, muffin," she screeches in my ear.

As soon as Killian's grip on her hair loosens, Amara throws herself at me and Killian. She kisses me first, hot and urgent and everywhere.

This warmth in my chest again. I'm fucking melting over here.

The tiniest smile flashes across Killian's lips. Just as whipped as I am.

When she turns to him, his smile disappears. He's worried.

Join the club. "We'll be there, Kill."

My reassurance doesn't satisfy Amara. "Please say yes," she pleads.

"Of course. Just remember—"

"You two are my bosses." Amara mirrors Killian's serious face, and it's fucking hard to keep from cracking up. "Mr. Murdock. Mr. Steele."

"Good girl," I praise, tightening my grip around her middle and glancing at Killian. "Babysit the venue for an hour? I'll drop A at home so she can change. That is, if you want to."

"Of course," Killian answers.

I don't think he even notices his hand at the back of my neck, caressing me absentmindedly. But I do. Amara does too, grinning at me and purring because he's doing the same to her.

What a dysfunctional Brady Bunch we make.

Refusing to ruin the moment, I don't utter a word.

Until Amara's face drops out of nowhere.

"What is it, pet?"

Amara's perfect white teeth scrape along her plump bottom lip. "I don't have anything to wear."

"We'll have a gown sent to you," Killian and I say together.

"No." Amara's mouth gapes in horror. "Those are expensive."

"Doesn't matter." Together. Again.

"I can't say no, can I?"

"No."

"Then get me something with a flower pattern or flowers on it, Killian. Please." She spins toward him, pressing her hands together. "If we get to go to a formal event sort of with my two kings, I want to look like the princess I'll feel on the inside."

Soon, baby. You'll have everything, soon.

"Matching flower heels too. I'm size—"

I grab her by the throat. "You're not a princess. You're a queen."

"Don't worry about anything." Killian lets go of me. His two hands cover hers, and he kisses each one. "You don't have to beg, either, beautiful girl. I'm happy to spoil you."

"And while we're on the subject of money." I hook an arm around her middle, hauling her to me. I'm a greedy bastard, so fucking what. "Stop opening our mail. You're not paying our bills."

"You knew?" Her gasp has me wanting to put more of my saliva in there. Fill up her every hole.

"Yes. I've had them forwarded to my email since."

"Hmph."

More of Killian's rare laugh follows us to the private elevator.

Fuck. There's no escape from this. From telling her I love her, and soon. I'll have to figure out how. Bottling this shit for much longer will give me an ulcer. Or worse.

Make me soft with all the emotions inside me.

I am not soft.