“Possession is nine-tenths of the law,” I shoot back, waving a wooden spoon at him. “I cook ninety percent of the meals in here. Ergo, my kitchen.”
Liam snorts as he arranges silverware. “That’s not how property law works. Don’t quit your day job to become an attorney.”
“Too soon,” I wince, though I’m smiling. “What day job?”
“The one Dom just offered you,” Cora reminds me, squeezing lemon over the salad.
I turn back to the stove, stirring the sauce to hide the sudden tears in my eyes. Truth is, I can’t remember the last time anyone believed in me the way these three do. My entire adult life, I’ve been the charming fuckup—good for a laugh, good in bed, good at cards, but never someone you build a future with.
Yet here they are, picking up the pieces after Pike shatters my career, offering solutions rather than judgment. Dom is creating a position for me. Liam is strategizing legal countermoves. Cora sees straight through my bullshit to the scared kid underneath who just wants to feel safe.
I’m falling for them. Not just Cora, which would be simple enough to understand. Not just the occasional fun with Liam or the unexpected heat with Dom. All three of them, together and separately, in ways that terrify and exhilarate me in equal measure.
I’ve spent my life chasing the next thrill, the next bet, the next win. Now I’m standing in Dom’s kitchen—fine, I’ll give him that one—making dinner with these people who’ve somehow become my home, and I’ve never felt a higher stake in my life.
41
DOMINIC
Icheck my watch as the elevator climbs to the penthouse. Eight fifteen. Another twelve-hour day spent on damage control. Pike’s attacks on my business interests are exactly what I’d do in his position. I respect the strategy even as I work to counter it.
The doors slide open, and I’m already loosening my tie, my mind still caught in the web of contracts and potential investors to replace Maddox Holdings.
I freeze.
My living room is transformed. Silver and black balloons cluster against the ceiling. A banner—an actual fucking banner—stretches across the wall reading “Happy Birthday, Dom.” Small spotlights highlight wrapped packages on the coffee table.
“Surprise!” Three voices call out in unison.
Cora steps forward with a glass of what looks like my favorite bourbon. Ryder stands beside a three-tier cake decorated in matte black fondant with silver accents. Liam leans against the wall, smirking.
“What is this?” My voice comes out harsher than intended.
Cora’s smile falters slightly. “It’s your birthday. Did you think we wouldn’t celebrate?”
“I don’t celebrate my birthday.” I take the offered drink, needing the burn of alcohol. “How did you even know?”
“I may have looked at your driver’s license while you were sleeping,” Ryder admits, not appearing remotely apologetic.
“And I may have confirmed it with your assistant,” Liam adds.
“Traitors, all of you.” But my lips twitch, betraying me.
“You’re always taking care of everyone else’s needs,” Cora says, stepping closer. Her fingers brush my jaw. “Let us take care of you for once.”
Something tightens in my chest. I haven’t celebrated a birthday since I was seventeen. Haven’t wanted to. Haven’t seen the point.
“Come on, Dominic,” Liam pushes off the wall. “Even control freaks deserve cake.”
“We know you hate surprises,” Ryder says more gently. “But we wanted to show you... you matter to us.”
I look at these three faces—all watching me with different expressions of the same emotion. An emotion I’m not ready to name.
“Fine,” I say finally, finishing my drink in one swallow. “But if there’s singing, I’m evicting all of you.”
Cora laughs, the sound warming me. “No singing, we promise.”
Ryder approaches with a plate holding a homemade cake. “Chocolate bourbon with espresso buttercream. Made it myself.”
