“And the way y’all brought the old and the new recipes together, why, my grandmama would tip her hat to you, if she were still with us,” Mr. Quincy adds.
Beside him, Deanna stands in sullen silence, her arms crossed and her lips twisted with contempt. She was clapping with the rest of them, but only for the sake of appearances and not much else. Judging by the look on her face alone, she hates seeing Matty and me happy and praised for our work, once again proving what a miserable creature she really is.
Vincent leans in and plants a kiss on my temple. I’m stunned. Heat bursts in my cheeks as I give him a worried glare.
“Are you crazy?” I hiss under a tense smile.
Alex laughs and kisses me on the lips directly—no shame, no fear. Matty takes a couple of steps to the side, wide-eyed and surprised, but he keeps his mouth shut despite the grin struggling to erupt on his face. The other guests cheer; the hosts giggle and clap. And it’s weird and completely unexpected.
“What’s wrong?” Alex asks me.
“I thought we’re supposed to keep the four of us a secret,” I say.
“You wanted to keep it a secret from your brother,” he replies. “We want to show you off and take pride in what a fabulous woman has chosen to grace us with her body and her heart.”
Max whispers in my ear. “Look at them, Raina. Every man in this room wishes they had what we do.”
My gaze wanders across the salon. I see the looks, the curiosity, the yearning. Come tomorrow, the hosts will go somewhere else to entertain other rich patrons, while the guests will go back to their regular lives, their offices, their families, their picture-perfect lives. And I’ll be with Alex, Max, and Vincent; their gesture tells me that much. What’s between us is far from over.
“Another round of applause,” Alex declares, “ladies and gentlemen, for our head chef, our fine collaborator, and our beautiful, insanely talented and kind-hearted woman, Raina Redford. I think she’s earned it and so much more.”
Again, they clap and cheer, this time only for me. Matty doesn’t seem to mind. I steal a glance at him and notice his smile. I’m guessing he knew something was going on between our bosses and me, but he never addressed it.
“Well done, Miss Redford!” another guest shouts.
“You three are the luckiest SOBs I’ve ever met,” Mr. Quincy replies and walks over to shake Alex’s, Max’s, and Vincent’s hands.
We laugh and joke about the complexities of our relationship, and I go along with the whole thing. My brain is completely shut down. I’ll worry about the consequences and the logistics of it all tomorrow. Tonight, I’m too happy tocare. My heart leaps as I find myself wrapped in my men’s arms and enveloped in their praise and adoration.
I’ve never felt this way before.
“Did you really think we’d want to keep you hidden from the world?” Alex whispers in my ear.
I nod, a slight movement. “I figured it would be complicated, at best.”
“The world can bugger off as far as we’re concerned. We build our own lives. We build our own happiness, and we protect it fiercely. You are our happiness,” he says and kisses me again.
This time, it’s deep; it’s intentional, a statement that makes my blood sizzle and my head spin as I wrap my arms around his strong neck. Max and Vincent kiss my cheeks at the same time, prompting a few endearing laughs and faint claps from the guests.
“You’re ours, Raina,” Vincent says, “and we’ll gladly show you off.”
“And we’re yours,” Max adds. “When you’re ready, you can show us off, too.”
20
MAX
In the morning, our guests are downstairs, getting ready to check out, and an email lands in our encrypted mailbox with a ransom demand.
“Pay $450,000 in Bitcoin via this link or explain what really happens there to the press,” I say, reading the message out loud.
The words ring heavily in our private office, almost bouncing off the walls like sickening echoes. Alex takes a sip of his coffee, and Vincent breathes in so deeply, I feel like his ribcage might burst.
“Where’s Raina?” Alex asks after a long and heavy silence.
“In the kitchen with Matty doing the final check before they close it down for the rest of the year,” I say.
“And Bancroft?”
