Page 102 of Her Filthy Reverse Harem Romance Collection

I’m torn between staying right where I’m and pulling away as a sane, rational-thinking woman should.

Looking back at him, I swallow when he grins and I swear I hear a low, possessive growl.

In his arms, I can’t help but feel protected and that’s when it hits me. Every man, or rather college boy trying to be a man, I’ve ever been remotely interested in dating was just that—a boy. These men are not boys. Arrogant, alpha to the core and so fucking frustrating I constantly want to slap them and then kiss them.

But the truth is the weight on my shoulders having them around me doesn’t feel so unbearable all of a sudden.

With the threats still hanging over my head I’ve been on edge. It would be a lie if I said I didn’t feel safer with them here. These men are every bit the beasts they seem. I know for a fact if anyone were to try and hurt me, they would have a few places readily available to hide the body. What does it say about me that I take comfort in that fact?

All three have neatly combed and parted their dark hair along the side. They look so perfect, good, and clean. Until you pause long enough to look them in the eye.

They have a dark side they’ve never shown me and it reflects in the sharpness of their gazes. The regal poise of their shoulders. They are of money, and have the finest of educations, but the darkness in their eyes and the calluses on their hands tell me they’ve gotten dirty to build their kingdom. Very dirty.

As much as I would love to stay where I am, I manage a couple of side steps and dislodge myself from between them. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I must tend to my other guests. Do what you must, but it will be without me.”

I feel more than see their predatory gazes watch my every move. I don’t dare meet their eyes for fear of giving in and falling into their arms. Which would end up with me doing whatever the hell they want.

But I don’t get more than a few inches from either man.

Tomas tips my chin up. “Cute.”

I didn’t think I was being cute in the least.

“I guess we should tell her.”

I turn abruptly to stare into the eyes of Maksym. Dark hair encases a face pulled into a reserved expression. Tomas swears something in Russian and those kissable lips of his turn to flat lines. All three exchange hard looks overtop my head. Like what they are about to say both excites them and scares them in the same breath.

“Tell me what?” Now I’m getting scared.

Silence.

Stefan gathers my hands and draws them to his lips. He kisses the back of my knuckles one at a time and when he gets to the final one his black eyes lift to meet mine. In that second my world shifts. My feet are no longer on solid ground. I finally know why, too.

Stefan’s words flutter overtop my hands. His hold on me is solid as steel.

“We’ve purchased your life. You belong to us until we say otherwise.”

Was that a proposal? I’m not sure what the hell to say. So, I don’t. I turn on my heel and run as fast as my four-inch stilettos can carry me.

Stefan

an hour before the gala

We were desperate for a way to tie her to us. And she didn’t make it easy. The weeks we spent apart felt like decades. At the two-week marker, I was ready to commit murder. Kill every fucker I could find who had a bone to pick with the Cambridge family.

The way I calculated it I had a pretty good shot at eliminating the bastard who’s been harassing India. Something she held back from us during our times together. But who can blame her? We didn’t exactly let her know how serious we felt about her. Through her eyes, every time we left on business, we could have been doing anything under the sun. For all intents and purposes what we shared looked like hook-up sex and nothing more.

Misconceptions we will be rectifying before the night is over.

We spent the last few weeks killing ourselves trying to find a way to bring her back. And came up empty-handed every fucking time. Until a piece of information crossed our ears.

And then we knew we had her.

“Please, gentleman. Take a seat.”

Maksym and Tomas take Cambridge’s hand before I reach out. When my hand slides into his, our eyes lock and I let him know he won’t like what is about to transpire between us.

Maksym and Tomas take the leather chairs in front of the aging man’s large desk. We’re in the downstairs library a few paces from the front door. The walls are lined with countless priceless works of literature and a large fireplace to the right of the desk. Pictures line the mantel and several feature India standing with her parents in most and in others she’s with a man only a couple of years older than herself. They have similar smiles and the same shade of blue eyes.

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