Page 99 of Chase

“Covering what I did wrong up.” The head of the Irish Mafia smiles, stands, and brushes off his jeans. “Anyway, I’ll be off. I have some business that needs attending to.”

“Are you going to cause me a headache?” Damon says wearily.

“No, this is personal.” He bows before turning on his heel and making his way to the elevator.

“Don’t leave us in suspense,” Russell calls to his back.

“I’m going to tell my wife she isn’t getting a divorce.” With that, the doors open, and he steps into the elevator, waves goodbye, and leaves.

***

Oxford Street, London

“Any one you want,” Connor says again. I nip the price tag of the insanely expensive dress between my fingers. The three of us are in a high-end ladies' clothing boutique, perusing the rails of dresses.

When I walked through the door with my men behind me, the woman behind the counter visibly swooned. Russell had flipped the sign from open to closed and then dropped a pile of one hundred pound notes at the cash desk.

“Personal shopping experience,” he told her, and she nodded enthusiastically.

We’ve been here for thirty minutes, though, and I’ve not tried anything, terrified I’ll rip something with my clumsy fingers or oversized tits. Small zips and my body do not go together.

“This dress costs more than a month of my wages,” I hiss.

“Just get in the fucking changing room, Trouble,” Russell orders as Connor puts a hand on my waist and encourages me in the direction the sign says. The shop assistant appears a few minutes later with an armful of dresses. Connor grabs the hem of my t-shirt and lifts it upwards. I automatically raise my arms.

“Strip,” he says, softly. “We have a lot to try on. And you need to look extra special for tonight.”

“Where are we going?” I ask for the thousandth time, but all they’ll tell me is that we have plans. The niggling worry that this is the day they want me to choose has bothered me since they told me we were going out. I’m both excited and terrified about the evening ahead with both of them.

“It’s a surprise,” they say in unison as I wriggle out of my jeans. Connor passes me a soft pink dress.

“No, that’s not her,” Russell barks before I pull it over my breasts, thrusting a blue option in my hands. This one does a little better as I manage to pull it over my ass before Connor vetos the item.

“They’re all beautiful,” I say in almost a whine, before taking it back off.

“Not beautiful enough,” Connor tells me with a small smile. “But the issue we have is three people here have opinions, and one of them has no taste.” He glances at his brother who is talking to the sales assistant animatedly. His hands gesture to parts of his own body as he explains which of my assets he wants to highlight. “My brother is also a breast man, but I have a special affection for that ass of yours. It isn’t going to be easy to satisfy both of us.”

“And what about what I want?” I ask him, cocking my head to the side and trying to appear serious. They are infuriating but oh-so-fucking cute when they bicker. It gives me a small peek into their life growing up together: brothers who adore each other but can’t stand to be the one to lose. Their affection is heartwarming but hilarious.

“Your decision is always the most important one.” He speaks softly, his tone gentle as if he is talking to someone he is terrified will run. “We’ll both honor whatever choice you make.” It’s a few simple words laden with so much importance, a clear sign that my time to choose is coming closer. Soon, I must decide between them and I’m not sure I can. “For now, let’s enjoy the present,” he soothes, leaning in and kissing my cheek before running his fingers through my hair. My heart aches; I can’t lose this.

The process of them arguing about what I should wear continues for what feels like days, but it’s only fifty minutes. The boys squabble about colors and styles while I try each item on. Every dress is beautiful in its own way, but none of them are truly me. I don’t get that glow when I look in the mirror, the one when you just know this is the dress for you.

The sales assistant appears again, this time with a bundle of red silk in her arms. She smiles at me, walking past the two men who barely notice.

“This one,” she tells me quietly. “This, my dear, is one hundred percent you.”

I slide the slick material over my head. It falls perfectly into place. The neck is a high sweetheart cut, exposing just enough of my breasts to be sexy. Thick straps hold it firmly on my shoulders as the silk skims my curves, finishing above my knees. She passes me matching heels, and I slip them onto my feet then stare at myself in the mirror.

“Wow,” I mutter, and the male voices go silent. Russell steps up behind me, slides an arm around my waist, and places a kiss on my neck. We look at one another in the reflection. Connor appears at my opposite shoulder and slips my fingers into his.

“Fuck, our girl is hot,” Russell says.

“She’s a furnace,” his brother agrees. “We’ll take it.”

***

Guilty Pleasure’s Gentlemen’s Club

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