Page 15 of Room One Hundred and Eleven

I should at least find out before I make any rash decisions this time, right?

Clutching the strap of my purse with the invitation, and contract, inside, I turn toward my private space.

“The clock is ticking, beauty.” Carter slaps my ass, making me squeak and sending me into the suite. “You have fourteen minutes and forty-five seconds to make up your mind. We will not wait a moment longer.”

CHAPTER 5

Poppy

Holy crap!

I rest my shoulders against the door for a solid ten precious seconds.

It takes that long to catch my breath.

My room isn’t so different from theirs, done in the same cream and gold accents with warm wood of some variety that doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen at my neighborhood home-improvement store.

As I look around, I realize my room isn’t even a room.

It’s a suite.

Maybe not as large as what I’ve seen of the guys’, but it’s easily twice the size of my apartment. The air conditioning probably even works, unlike mine.

A comfy living room with a sunken sitting area. A tidy bar and kitchenette off to one side.

The door on the opposite end leads to a bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows that carry through to the bathroom.

Inside, all I see is the freestanding tub. Gleaming white. Oval. It’s sleek and unmarred by hardware. I poke a button with a stream of water pictured on it near the edge, and water pours from a gold circle in the ceiling in a perfect laminar flow.

Wow.

Look, I’m from Vegas. I’ve heard of this stuff, seen some of it at Gunner’s club.

My boss promised I’d be spoiled if I did this. I’m starting to think I’ve underestimated exactly what that means in billionaire-speak.

For sure, I know it includes spreading my legs for the trio of men I just met. That doesn’t scare me. In fact, I’m excited about that part.

Being near them, between them, caused my heart to race faster than the oncoming luggage cart. Sharing my first time with them will be a dream come true.

But what else are they expecting?

The plum leather crossbody Melody insisted I buy on my billionaires’ card is soft. I stroke the strap before plunging my hand inside. It’s easy to fish the invitation from its depths. I’ve looked at it a hundred times in the past week. Enough to dull the sharp corners of the thick envelope.

This time I actually remove the contract tucked behind the vellum and fancy script.

I turn it over in my hands.

Why haven’t I read it?

Is it because I’ve been too busy? Sure, I had exams this week, plus night shifts, and even squeezed in a few hours of drooling over wedding dresses with Riley and Melody. Then, the spa day and shopping spree they took me on to get ready for tonight.

Or is it because I’m as impulsive as Gunner accused?

If I’m being honest, I haven’t looked because I didn’t want anything to deter me from taking the damn break I desperately need. A luxurious weekend of being babied, plus having someone finally rid me of my pesky V-card.

Threesomeones.

Who know what they’re doing.

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