Page 41 of Power's Fall

It took a moment before he realized he was smiling too, and only a moment longer before it faded away. How many minutes had passed since he’d…paid fucking attention. He’d let himself get too swept away in the moment, thinking—like a fool—that he could watch from a distance and still remain alert to the danger surrounding him.

There were still miles to go, a thousand obstacles standing between him and these two people.

Dahlia sat up slowly, looking in his direction.

“Vadisk,” she said softly. He could see in her eyes that she wanted him to join them, wanted him to stay.

Sadly, it was something he couldn’t do.

“Hold our girl,” he said gruffly to Montana. “I need to leave.”

Dahlia opened her mouth, and he could see the arguments lining up in her mind.

“Vadisk is right,” Montana said, guiding Dahlia to her side of the bed before picking up the T-shirt they’d discarded earlier and drawing it over her head. He pulled the covers over her, then donned his lounge pants before joining her. “We’ve taken a big enough risk tonight.”

Vadisk nodded, glad that Montana understood why he needed to return to his own room.

Pulling on his pants, he silently slipped to the bedroom door. He told himself to keep walking, but he couldn’t resist one last look.

Montana and Dahlia were reclining against the fluffy pillows, half sitting, half lying down. Montana’s arms were wrapped around her shoulders, her hand resting on his bare chest.

He hated leaving them, but he didn’t have a choice. For now, all he could do was look.

“Good night,” he whispered as he walked back into the hall, closing the door behind him.

He was getting sick and tired of always being on the outside.

Dahlia readthe message twice before grabbing a pillow and slapping Montana with it. She only clipped him, as he was all the way on the other side of the massive bed. He sat bolt upright, yanking the pillow out of her grip. His bare chest caught the morning light that filtered in around the edges of the curtains, highlighting the planes of his pecs. Tempting view.

Now wasn’t the time.

“Dahlia?” he rumbled in a sleepy voice.

She turned her phone to face him. “The resort director will meet with us. Today. Now.”

Dahlia was out of bed and out the door before Montana had finished processing her words. She raced to Vadisk’s room, skidding to a stop in the hall.

Vadisk had just stepped out of the bathroom, a towel slung low around his hips, his bare chest wet and glossy. His arms were thick with muscle, and she knew exactly how strong he was from the few—too few—times he’d touched her. She gave herself a moment to admire his tattoos, wishing she had time to study every inked curve and swirl. One night, she promised herself she would ask him what all the symbols meant and why he’d chosen them.

Unfortunately, they needed to get this mystery solved and get out of Crimea so they could fuck. Last night had briefly taken the edge off, before making her crave the menage even more.

Vadisk arched a brow, a smile playing across his lips before he frowned at her.

Dahlia held up her phone once more. “The resort director said she’d meet with us this morning.”

Vadisk’s eyes widened, and he darted across the hall into his room. She doubled back to get dressed, and ten minutes later, they met at the foot of the stairs.

A little tingle of anticipation slid through Dahlia. This meeting was one Montana had proposed months ago during the initial planning. The blackmailer was someone with access to the resort, most likely an employee, though that wasn’t the only option. She’d been able to schedule everything else, but this meeting had eluded her.

“Should we wonder why now?” Montana asked. “Why are they suddenly willing to meet with us?”

“Yes.” Vadisk finished clipping a sheathed knife to the back of his pants, hiding it under the loose, long-sleeved dress shirt he wore.

“But we still go,” Dahlia said, and both her husbands nodded.

The tension lessened considerably as they piled into the golf cart. Watching Vadisk fold himself into the driver’s seat was slapstick worthy.

“Shut up,” he muttered as Dahlia snickered and Montana tried to cover his laugh with a cough.

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