Page 72 of The More the Merrier

There was a pause that stretched out for several seconds. All traces of accent were gone when Cheri spoke next. “What do you mean? She checked in when she arrived and met with Gregor right away, she even commented that it had been the best night of her life.”

Now Atticus was confused. “I just spoke with the woman who spent the night with Gregor, and she wasn’t from your agency. This sounds like a case of mistaken identity. Can you ask your girl what the man she met with was wearing?”

Atticus had been home when Gregor dressed carefully for his evening of frivolity and wore what he always did when he wanted to make an impression—a black Armani suit with a matching shirt and his only splash of color was the red tie. Even his panther mask was completely black and devoid of all other colors.

“Atticus, Sally just messaged me back. She said Gregor was in a pair of black jeans and a black shirt. You did say he would be all in black, didn’t you?”

A large grin spread across Atticus’s face. “I did, but I also said black suit.Sallyhad a wonderful evening with our day manager, Greg, not Gregor.”

From the other end, Atticus heard a string of strongly spoken French words that includedmerdewhich he recognized as being French for shit!

“Let’s just say, you owe me one, Madame.” Atticus hung up and deposited his phone in his pocket. He was so stoked about the mix up. It couldn’t have gone better had he planned it this way.

“Things to do,” he mumbled under his breath. He texted Gregor.

How was your night?He watched as the messenger bubble showed up and then disappeared several times. Atticus was laughing as he pictured Gregor trying to explain this mega fuck up!

Interesting. But I think you fucked up.

Oh? How did I do that exactly?Atticus fully intended to milk this for as long as he could.

It was the wrong girl.

Atticus shook with laughter making his text back to Gregor take longer than it should.

You didn’t come home until 5 am. Sounds like the right girl to me.

Atticus covered his mouth to hold back the bark of laughter that threatened to erupt, as the message bubble showed Gregor typing back.

You’re still an asshat. Later.

Atticus deposited his phone in his pocket. Despite finding the entire situation hilarious, there were also deeper things afoot here. Gregor should have chewed him out, he would have wanted to talk, but he didn’t and that was a first. He played back the conversation with Claire. She said it had been the best night of her life, could it also have been the same for Gregor?

He certainly hoped so because he found the little minx completely entrancing. He loved the feel of her in his arms, and the way she snuggled into his chest with complete trust had made his cock hard all the way back to the hotel. His hotel, although she didn’t know that yet. While MBC was Gregor’s brainchild, Aegir had been his and he was damn proud of it.

He imagined his friend’s face when Claire called him Sir and submitted to his whims. In that way, he and Gregor were the same but on polar opposite ends of the scale. Not that Atticus didn’t enjoy that too, but the trust, the cuddles, the taking care of a Little and having it reciprocated was his hot button.

He meandered down the snowy streets saying hi to almost everyone. Their community was intimately known to him. He’d been by Gregor’s side every step of the way, building their combined dream but the people were his favorite part. Creating community here in Colorado had taken away some of the aches of losing the one he had in Greece as a child.

Entering Twin Peaks’s community theatre, Atticus headed for the costume department. He planned on providing Claire with the perfect dress for tonight. He’d noticed that although her build was slight, her breasts were ample, and that asset definitely needed showing off. Atticus would ensure that by the end of their six-day celebrations, Gregor would be chomping at the bit to get back in bed with Claire, only this time, he’d be joining them.

He went through rack after rack of dresses and costumes until he found two he felt would be perfect for attracting the boss. A lacy periwinkle-blue gown, done in Elizabethan style complete with a sheer silk shift, stockings, and garters, hoop skirt, bum roll, and a kirtle that would make Claire’s already trim waist look waspish.

The second dress was deep red and very seductive. In the end, Atticus couldn’t decide and took both gowns. He found matching shoes in a few sizes although he guessed she wore an eight and when that was done took everything to the checkout, which consisted of one costume designer, named Denise who practically lived at the playhouse.

“Have all of this delivered to Room 303 by 5 pm if you please. I have a young lady in desperate need of a dress for tonight.”

“Why don’t I take my sewing kit along, then I can help yourfriendinto the costume and make sure it fits.”

“Thank you, Denise, you are a goddess of the seam.” Denise fluttered her eyes at Atticus. Like most women, she was wooed easily by his flattery. He sighed inwardly; when would his grumpy bosshole friend realize that honey attracted the bees, not vinegar?

Atticus bent over the aging hand of the seamstress and kissed it tenderly before taking his leave. It was time for him to have a strategy session with his wardrobe as the next few days were crucial if he wanted to achieve the desired end result—the three of them in bed together. But it was more than that, he’d had a feeling about her right from the moment she toppled into him on her head collision slide with the post outside his tapas bar.

He should have spanked her for her recklessness, but he had plenty of time to show her who he was, and when she saw the benefits of two Daddies for the price of one, Atticus hoped she would end up with them as their Little. One thing he knew was women, and Claire was a woman in desperate need of just about everything that having two Daddies could provide.

Chapter 8

Gregor

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