Page 62 of Gilded Kisses

I have a drastically new life than I did back in Chicago and I’m ready for even more change.

As it turns out, the owners of The Gilded Key Society couldn’t wait to sell and made it easy to take over not only the New Orleans branch but also the Seattle version of the same outfit.

But I have an idea of my own I want to see come to life. And if I can pull it off, it will have an irresistible allure of its own.

A stack of papers half an inch thick is pushed in front of me. Sunlight pours through large windows lining the front of the double gallery townhome. We are in the middle of the New Orleans’ Garden District and the pulse this place puts out feeds directly to mine. It’s a steady flow of both new and old energy Ifelt the second the real estate agent pointed to it on a map two weeks ago.

“If you would sign here and here, that will be the last of the paperwork for you. Then your…” The real estate agent turns his curious eyes to the three men in suits standing behind me like sentries.

“Today, they are my escorts. Growing up, they were my godfathers.” I lean in like I have a secret to tell, feeling a bit wicked. “And tonight, sweetie, they will be my lovers.” I wink at him and sit back, feeling proud of the shock on his face. Maybe I shouldn’t tease, but he makes it easy.

Across from me, Mr. Dupont swallows hard and can’t decide where to look after my little confession.

He takes the pen I used and holds it up to Mirsha first. “Gentlemen. You can sign here,” our mousy agent offers, unable to hold eye contact with my godfathers. Poor man. Maybe I should gift him a membership to The Gilded Key Society for helping us seal the deal to this place. I make a mental note to do just that.

“It’s all good. This is hers. We are just here for moral support.”

I look up and Viper winks at me. His wicked streak is just as long and wide as mine.

“Bad girl,” Mirsha admonishes in my ear when we rise from the table and the agent stays behind to shuffle some paperwork until we move to another room.

My godfather twirls me around and pins me to the wall of what will be my new office. When I’m not at the Society, of course.

I run my hands up his chest before fisting the top of his tie and pulling him closer. His hungry grin is a dark promise I will make sure he keeps.

“Wanna punish me now and give him a juicy story to take home? I bet he could use some color in his life.”

“Don’t give your real estate agent a heart attack,” Luther growls, coming up beside me. “Good ones like him are impossible to find.”

My head falls back and the bubbly laughter that pours out cleanses my soul of all the bad juju it has accumulated in recent years.

I know I sound pretty happy for a girl who lost her father, but how much can I mourn the man willing to use me to advance his greed for power? I feel…actually I don’t know what I feel. It’s only been a few weeks since my mother had him cremated and spread out over the city he desperately wanted to own. Well, now the city owns him. She said it was a beautiful ceremony with lots of people giving their respects. I am sure there were plenty of fancy napkins and silverware to keep her mind working overtime. I don’t blame her for who she is, but I don’t have to suffer through her weaknesses anymore, either.

“Am I late? I got your text to meet you here, but findingherewas a bit of a challenge.” A flurry of chaos with blonde hair and pinkeverythingslams through the arched entrance and the smiling face of my new friend comes into view.

I leave my men in the office space and wrap Magnolia in a big hug. Her candid talk with me that night at The Society left me with a seed of an idea. Fingers crossed it gives women like us aplace to find support and a place to share our wicked stories of loving a harem of men.

I pull back and lead her deeper into the large open space of the galley on the left. “What do you think? It was built in the late eighteen hundreds. 1846, I believe. And all the interior wood is original to the home. The wrap-around porch, the wrought-iron gate…it’s all original, actually. We can transform the eight bedrooms into gathering areas and use the front living room space for meetings or something. I don’t know. Yet. It’s coming to me.”

I turn to Magnolia, who wears a shocked expression.

“Am I talking too fast?”

My men watch from the large doorway, always needing to be nearby. Some might find it suffocating. I find it calming and necessary to breathe.

“A bit. This place is beautiful, and I always wanted to see inside this townhouse, but I still don’t know what I’m doing here.”

I take a deep breath and wrap my hands around hers. I feel my men give me the room and I silently thank them for understanding this is a moment I need with my friend.

“When you shared your story with me, I took your words to heart. You could be happy right now if someone had guided you the way you guided me. I want to pay that energy forward and help others get their happily ever after. But I can’t do it alone.”

The more I explain, the brighter Magnolia’s smile turns. And the look of understanding in her pretty hazel eyes gives me the courage this idea of mine isn’t as silly as it sometimes seems.

“You want to help women who fear loving so hard and between so many?”

I nod my head. “The morning after is the scariest time. Having other women to share the experience with, get feedback from if needed or just listen and understand is priceless.”

I lead her through the spacious front room and out the front door. An abandoned garden spreads out in front of us. Its expanse is only controlled by the edge of the porch and the large brick wall encompassing the one-hundred-and-sixty-year-old home.

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