Page 48 of The Brat Tamers

EPILOGUE

EPIPHANY - SIX MONTHS LATER…

“How did it go?” Lee stands as we come off the elevator. He pulls me into his arms and kisses the top of my head.

“I’m going to take that photographer’s nuts the next time I see him,” Case grumbles, predictably dropping both of our bags on the floor.

I sigh. “You can’t threaten the photographers. None of them are going to work with me if you guys keep verbally assaulting them.”

“He had no fucking reason to touch you like he did,” Case growls and then shakes his head, turning his attention to Lee. “You should have seen this asshole. He kept adjusting her top, grabbing her hips to move her this way or that. Openly flirting with her as if the rest of us weren’t there.”

Case points his finger at me. “He didn’t touch any of the other models nearly as much as he handled you.”

Rolling my eyes, I push out of Lee’s arms and wave my hands, dismissing both of them. “Whatever you say.”

“Someone’s feeling feisty.” Lee raises his brow.

“Someone needs their ass beat,” Case retorts.

“I’m so scared.” I wiggle my fingers and dance around the sofa, putting the piece of furniture between us.

Case isn’t wrong. Phillip adjusted my clothes, my hair, and my stance—a lot. He manhandled me as much as possible, given the circumstances, but what Case doesn’t know is that Phillip did it because I asked him to.

I haven’t needled my men in months. Between my work and their work, we’ve been pulled in a dozen different directions and rarely have time to be together-together. They’ve made sure I’m never alone, escorting me across the globe on different shoots, and accompanying me to business meetings in New York and Los Angeles. I’ve rarely spent a night alone, and when I do, it’s because I’m staying the night at my father’s estate with Leti—a bit of family time while the guys work out-of-town details.

However, my days of attending red carpet events or celebrity parties as a means to fill my time and my heart are over. I’ll take a night snuggled up on the couch with one or all of my men over champagne and yachts any day.

Porter comes out of our upstairs bedroom and stares down at us from the second floor, which is really the fifth floor. “What’s going on?”

“Our brat is begging to be punished.” Case pulls his shirt off.

“Is she?” Porter grins and winks at me. “I love it when she does that.”

“You have to catch me first,” I taunt.

Lee spreads his arms. “Where are you going to go, pet?”

I crouch down and reach under the couch for the tray of silly string I put here before we left two days ago, but it is missing.

Porter chuckles and waves a can. “Looking for something?”

“You found my stash?”

“Baby, who do you think you’re dealing with?”

I stick out my bottom lip. “You guys are no fun.”

“We can be, if you’d stop running.” Lee stalks me from the left, which is exactly what I hoped he would do considering I plan to distract Case with his luggage and then make a dash down the stairs to my right.

“Have you checked your bag yet, Case?”

He narrows his eyes. “What about my bag?”

I shrug and plaster on my sweetest smile—the one that doesn’t fool my men in the least. Lee stops stalking me and watches as Case bends down and pulls the zipper back, a puff of pink chalk dust blowing up in his face.

“What the fuck did you do?”

I’m laughing as I make a dash for the stairwell. “It’s non-toxic and machine washable!!!”

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