Page 77 of Beneficial Misfortune

Dinner is mostly quiet, with everyone focused on eating rather than talking. While I might enjoy cooking, I can see how having a chef can be nice, too. It’s a great way to try new things and a nice thing to have in your back pocket should the day get away from you like it did for me today.

After dinner, I excuse myself, grabbing my bags from the foyer and taking them upstairs to put away before showering. I’d made sure to pick up a few pairs of pajama pants as well, in case I ever needed to leave my room at night. They are baggy and super soft, making them perfect to slip over my boy shorts.

My phone vibrates on my bedside table, and I scoop it up to check it before I crawl into bed.

Could I see you for a moment in my office?

Dread washes over me as I once again worry he’s going to fire me.

Stop it.

Could he fire me? Yes, of course. But honestly, if he didn’t fire me for sleeping with his brother and son, I can’t imagine he would have much of another reason, too.

Of course. I’ll be right there.

Taking a deep breath, I pull on my pajama pants and thank the heavens I bought them before heading to his office. Even knowing he probably won’t be firing me, I can’t help but feel anxious, both because this feels formal and because of the last time I was here…which was the opposite of formal.

After a moment's hesitation, I knock, waiting for him to call out for me before I enter. Just like last time, he sits behind his desk, looking every bit the billionaire businessman he is, though this time, Alex is nowhere in sight.

Nobody is.

It’s just me and him, and I’m not sure if that’s better or worse.

With slow steps, I make my way to his desk. Unsure if I should sit or not, I decide to remain standing. He tracks my movement from the moment I open the door, and by the time I reach his desk, I’m fidgeting with no hope of stopping. I’m not used to being the center of attention. Hell, for a long time, I could hardly hold my own fiancé's attention. I’d always thought myself mundane and boring, nothing special or eye-catching.

But now…

Now I have not one but three men who look at me like I’m not only worth seeing, but like I’m the best damn thing they’ve ever seen. They could have their choice of women, yet somehow, they picked me. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m here and available or not, but I’m not going to look too closely at it right now.

“Hello, my Queen,” he purrs as a smirk curves his lips.

Oh, no. There is no way he can call me that, joke or not. His presence is enough to have me hot and bothered, but if he keeps calling me that, I’m going to walk around permanently wet.

“I wanted to talk to you about today at the mall,” he says, suddenly serious again.

Damn it, Vincent.

“It’s come to my attention that while we have talked about how we share and you have agreed to that, you seem to be unaware of what comes with this agreement.”

He looks at me as if waiting for me to disagree, but I can’t because I honestly have no idea.

“We’ll start with this.” He tosses something onto the desk that slides across, almost falling off before it stops right in front of me. “This is yours. It’s to be used when you take Addison out, when you're hungry, when you buy clothes, or anything else you might need. Think of it as a business card.”

For all of two seconds, I’m ready to agree.

“Wait, my clothes aren’t a business expense.”

A smile curves his lips as he pushes up from his chair and makes his way around his desk to stand in front of me.

“See, that’s where you're wrong.” He hooks his finger under my chin, craning my head up so that our eyes meet. “You agreed to let us share you, and that means you are ours, to spoil, to protect, to fuck…” he trails off, his eyes burning into mine as if waiting for me to disagree.

I want to. Fuck, I want to so badly, but I can’t bring myself to do it with him looking at me like that.

“You're now my queen, and I have every intention of treating you as such. Addison will learn by example exactly how she should be treated.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat that feels as if it’s choking me as the need to argue with him presses me hard.

After a moment, he nods, seemingly happy with my silence. He lets my chin drop before scooping the card up from the desk to hold out for me to see.

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