Page 13 of Snowed in with the Billionaires

The next hour at dinner, maybe a little more than an hour, goes by in a blur. It’s no secret they thought I was going to poison their food when they made a big show of feeding me the first bite of everything they ate.

Ugh.

I open my mouth, chew, and swallow, but I don’t taste the food. I smile and nod and answer questions I won’t remember later. When we’re asked how we met, I hear them telling their family I worked for them. Like I would ever work for them. My entire purpose in life is to get away from men like them.

I’m also begrudgingly aware that someone turned up the heating beneath my bare feet and also the cabin temperature. They turned up the heat for me. But why? I thought they wanted to punish me. More mind games.

Well, I will not break. I hope they’re ready for that. Except every time they’re near enough for their cologne to mess with my brain chemistry, or when they touch me, I break a little more each time.

Fully distracted, I help Tina and Melody with cleaning up and serving dessert, which is sticky toffee pudding that Melody made at home and brought with her. It’s criminal I ate a bowl with warm custard draped over it and didn’t get to immerse myself in the experience. Everything is too bizarre for this to be my new reality.

I take no part in what family activity to do next. They settle on a movie. Bowls of popcorn and sweet treats line the coffee table. A fire crackles from the stone fireplace, enveloping the cabin in another layer of warmth while the wind howls outside against the fast-falling snow.

Everyone finds their comfort spots. Melody takes the love seat and wraps herself in a blanket. Gerard sits on the thick, fluffy carpet, with a bowl of popcorn. Tina lays herself out on another sofa. And Uncle Klaus and Aunt Essie sit next to each other on a two-seater.

Tristan takes a single seater for himself. The chair is huge, but he dominates every inch. It’s one of those chairs that swivels, and with his legs spread wide and his fingers steepled, he can easily turn and watch me continue to fall apart.

With no control or leverage, I can’t do much when I’m forcefully sandwiched between Ren and Kaiser on another two-seater.

The sofa is pure luxury. Soft. Comfortable. One to snuggle up on, except I have two giants on either side of me making sure I remain in place.I know this because every time I try to get up, they pull me back down.

My heart hammers in my chest. Their cologne seeps into me, melting brain cells in its wake. They’re too close. Despite it being a large sofa, because they’re so big and tall, they take up all the space. Worse, their spread thighs crush me in the middle. The heat from where they press against me is combustible.

Oh god please help me breathe.

I make a confident act of getting up one last time, my intention to move to a vacant chair, but this time I can’t even move. They press their thighs against me. They’re keeping me imprisoned on a sofa with nothing but the strength from their legs.

Everyone argues about what movie to watch. I couldn’t tell you what movie they settled on if my life depended on it.

The lights go off, and Kaiser pulls a cashmere throw over our legs.I’m ready to explode. A fever rages under my skin, and I worry it’s going to leave me soaked.

I’m really struggling now. More so when Tristan catches my gaze in the light from the theater-style television and holds it. He doesn’t take his eyes off me.

The voices on the television amplify. I’m having a nervous breakdown. I need air. But I receive no such reprieve.

My thudding heart comes to a dead stop when Ren and Kaiser lay their hands on my thighs. My bare thighs. I gasp at the contact, so blazingly hot my imminent demise is a breath away.

I try to wriggle away, but I’m trapped so tight between them I can’t move an inch. If they shifted just a little, all three of us could sit a little more comfortably on the sofa. But no.

Why are they doing this to me? I’m on the verge of asking them how long they’re planning on playing this game when Ren and Kaiser’s long, hard fingers trail up my thigh.

I inhale sharply when Kaiser tucks his hand under the back of my knee and lifts my leg, so it hangs over his thigh.

“If you move your leg from my lap, Tristan is going to spank your pretty little ass so hard, you won’t be able to sit for a month,” he whispers in my ear. My gaze shoots to Tristan. It’s as if he knew exactly what Kaiser had whispered in my ear.

I’m facing a triple takedown. Flawlessly coordinated.

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