Page 7 of Three Billionaire Bodyguards and a Sneaky Mafia Princess

And then she tackled Cash in a game of poker.

“Strip poker?” She asked innocently.

“You play strip poker?” he asked, leaning back in his seat, stroking his jaw.

“All the time. With my sister and Lizzie.”

“Hmm… Do you know what strip poker is?”

“Of course I do. I play it all the time. So, do you want to play strip poker with me or not? Let’s do it. It’ll be fun.” She gave him her sweetest smile and handed him the pack of cards to deal out.

By the time Cash sat in only his snowy white boxer briefs, she decided maybe she shouldn’t be winning any more games.

She gathered up his clothes, bid them all a goodnight, and strolled out of the study.

“Hey, where are you going with my clothes?” Cash called out behind her.

“Oh,” she said, turning around, looking confused and pouting a little. “I thought I won them fair and square. Isn’t that what strip poker means? I was going to put it up for sale and donate the proceeds to charity. Is that wrong?”

Cash, standing there in nothing but biceps, pecs, and abs for days, and his boxer briefs, all godlike and beautiful, looked as confused as she was.

“That’s not how it… Fine,” he said at last.

“Yay. Thank you,” she squealed. “It would go for a good cause. I promise,” she added, then turned around again with her winnings and headed to her bedroom, wondering how much money she would make if she said the suit still smelled of Cash Ingram, the notorious billionaire bad boy.

Yes, she cheated. She was her grandmother's granddaughter, after all. Greta Rossini first taught her all the rules before she taught her how to break them all.

As far as her stay with them was going, she’d rate herself a ten out of ten. They liked her. She was helpful. Pleasant. Provided them with light entertainment. Everything was going swimmingly well.

Chapter Six

Orchid

This was definitely the first and last time she was ever making a pie, which was just as well, considering she was nearing the end of her seven days in their company.

The truth was she couldn’t be happier to be going home tomorrow. She desperately needed to cuddle Tulip until even Tulip gave signs that it was enough.

By then, The Order would have had their meeting and voted to keep her off the marriage register. Either way, there was no way in hell she’d marry Wyoming Wolf.

She had plans in place if things didn’t go her way, and she ended up having to marry the man anyway. One thing she knew: it wasn’t going to be for long. But again, it wasn’t going to happen.

Tonight’s menu was pot roast—because even she couldn’t mess it up a few times before she got it right—and pecan pie and ice cream for dessert. Store-bought ice cream, thank you very much. She was, in two words, over it now.

But oh, the pie was her pièce de résistance, and it looked perfect. She tried her best not to hurry things along. Doing so wouldundo all the days and days of trust she’d earned from them. Nope, she couldn’t do anything out of the ordinary that would make them even a teeny, tiny bit suspicious.

She spoke in the same tone she used every other night at the dinner table. Animatedly told them a few odd and intriguing facts she’d googled an hour before dinner. She related a story she read about a house that was clearly haunted because every baby conceived in that house over the last hundred years looked exactly the same. How spooky. She made that story up on the spot.

And then it was time for dessert.

She served them generous portions. They complimented her accordingly. Then she insisted they take themselves to the living room for their nightly games while she cleaned up.

Whereas every other night, she blitzed through the cleanup to just get it done, this time she took her time. She checked her watch. Thirty minutes had gone by.

She removed her apron, took a strawberry licorice from a jar, and strolled into the living room. Swinging the roped candy in her hand, she took in the sight before her. If she thought they’d look a little vulnerable in their sleep, she was wrong.

They’d removed their jackets and ties and now lay sprawled on the sofas. Brent had fallen asleep where he sat on a wide chair, his powerfully muscular legs spread wide open, and his head lolled to the side.

River sat the same way but on a sofa, his head thrown back over the headrest. Cash had laid himself out on another sofa, one long leg hanging over the armrest while his other was bent at the knee.

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