“You know her,” I press. “You know her and you bid on her. Not only that, you made sure to win. So she’s important to you.”
“She was important to my brother.”
“To Kyle? Your brother who died?”
“He was my only brother.” Seth’s voice is scathing. “So yes, to Kyle. My brother who died.”
I grip the steering wheel like it can offer me some patience. “You don’t have to be an asshole. I’m trying to figure out what you threw me into back there.”
“She’s my brother’s widow.” His words are so quiet, it takes me a moment to understand.
The meaning hits like a glass of wine to the face. “Your brother’s—what were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t, okay?” He shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it. “Let’s go home. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I want to talk about her.” I keep my eyes on the road as I navigate us toward the Salding district. “That was…”
I don’t have words for what it was. Madison was perfect. Not just for me, but for us. Responsive, eager, and unafraid to take her pleasure. She was nervous, of course, as would be anyone when in a new scene with a new partner. But with a little direction, she came alive.
“She’s off limits.” Seth’s tone is firm.
“Obviously not.”
The question is how I will get him used to the idea. We’ve always known that we’ll settle down with a woman together. Unfortunately for him, I want that woman. Little Miss M.
MADISON
I stay in bed longer than usual on Sunday morning. Moments from last night keep replaying in my mind. I press my thighs together, my body clenching at the memory, my pussy getting wet when I think of how Damiano filled me. My heart thuds with equal parts thrill and shame when I remember how Seth kissed me. Seth, of all people. Why did it have to be him?
I pull my blankets over my head. Maybe I won’t get up at all. I don’t even have to leave my room. I have the day off—no weddings, no parties, no preparations. Next weekend is a big wedding, so starting tomorrow, we’ll be doing endless prep work. My boss, Glinda, made sure everyone had at least one day off this week. Today is mine.
At least, it is until my phone buzzes with a text. It’s from Jaclyn, one of my coworkers at the catering company.
I can’t go in today. I told Glinda you’d cover for me. I’ll take your shift tomorrow, k?
My mood sours immediately. She won’t take my shift tomorrow. She never does. I text back. Sorry, can’t. You still owe me for the last three times I covered you, anyway.
Her response is immediate. Don’t be mean, Madison, I need this. Besides, Glinda’s already expecting you. Your name is on the schedule.
Fuck that. I open up the scheduling app. Son of a bitch, Glinda already made the change. And Jaclyn’s name isn’t on Monday’s schedule, either—mine still is.
I take a deep breath. It’s fine. I can use the money. Sleep is for suckers, right?
Because it’s just my luck—I’m supposed to be there in an hour. I have barely enough time to get cleaned up, have a bite to eat, and drive to Glinda’s restaurant.
I rush through my shower. My body is pleasantly sore from last night. I wish I could linger here, exploring all the ways I feel different. Last night changed me. I feel sexy, confident. Powerful. Having two handsome men completely focused on me was incredible.
It’ll never happen again, and I don’t need it to. Because last night was a gift—a gift to my inner siren, a gift to the long-dormant part of me. The part of me that died with Kyle. The part I lost in my grief.
Once I’m dressed, I go straight to the refrigerator. I pause before opening it. It was Felix’s turn to get groceries yesterday. Odds are ten to one he didn’t do it.
Bracing myself, I open the fridge door.
Fuck. Me.
We have ketchup, two cans of beer, a tub of baby spinach turning into green sludge, and some leftover pad thai that should’ve been thrown out three weeks ago.
Why don’t Felix and Hugo ever do their part? It’s not like I enable them by bailing them out. They’re happy eating take-out, canned pears, and macaroni and cheese from a box.
