Lucy
Apparently, my concern over Mary was enough to short-circuit my brain.
I’d never planned on telling my parents about this. I meant what I said to Aunt Ruby—that I’m just having some fun. Is there a part of me that thinks this thing between us could last a while? That wants to stay with these three men, that imagines a domestic future with them?
Of course. But that’s not realistic.
What’s realistic is that this is just a little bump in the ride, a thrilling addition to the New York City roller coaster before I return to Missouri and settle down like they want.
So, it’s not like I’deverconsidered coming clean to my parents about this relationship. I didn’t think about the best way to word it, or how to present the truth that I’m in a weird polycule with three billionaire executives. I’m pretty sure the worldpolyculealone would make my father’s head explode.
And I didn’t think about the fact, while boarding the private jet and taking the hired car to the hospital, that bringing the three of them with me would paint a pretty provocative picture to my mom and dad.
“Well?” Dad prompts again, his hands sliding up out of his pockets, turning to fists, and landing on his hips. He stares down Dane, Nico, and Cole like he looks at the kids on his football team, like he’s on the brink of telling them totake a lapif they don’t answer him.
“Mom, Dad,” I say, stepping in front of the guys, not wanting this moment to go where it is undoubtedly hurtling toward. “These are…” I stop, clear my throat, look at my father, who is still looking at the guys, and my mother, who’s staring at me with wide, watering eyes, and try to figure out what thehellI’m going to say. “These are…”
“Wait,” Elliot says, completely unhelpfully. Snapping his fingers, he points at Dane. “You’re Dane Rourke. I knew I recognized you.”
Dane’s jaw shifts to the side, and he looks at me. I realize that, like with everything else we’ve done up to this point, they’re letting me lead. Letting me decide which direction I want to take this in. This is my family, and I only wish I had a better idea of how to handle this.
“DaneRourke,” my father grinds out, like Elliot has introduced him as the devil himself. “So, what the hell is some Wall Street asshole doing with my daughter?”
“Sir,” Dane says, his voice hard. I’m assuming he’s taking more offense at theWall Streetthan theasshole. “It’s?—”
“They were with me when I got the call,” I try, holding up my hands to my parents like I have so many times before. Promising them I had nothing to do with the punch being spiked at the dance. Begging my dad to let me go to the football game. Apologizing for wearing shorts when they wereclearlytoo small for me. “We work together—you know I’m an assistant. And they were kind enough to make sure I got here.”
My mom, also unhelpfully, gasps, “Lucy, do you know what it looks like, that you arrived here withthreemen? Older men?”
I feel my cheeks heat, and it’s as much of an admission as my parents need. Growing up, even when I didn’t do anything wrong, the color of my cheeks seemed to be enough proof for them that I had. Any sort of reaction to being in trouble automatically confirmed guilt.
He’s trying to be supportive, I know, but when Cole reaches up and places a hand on my bicep, it heightens the tension in the room. A blood vessel ticks in my father’s forehead, and my stomach drops.
Dad’s face reddens, sweat beading up along his hairline. Without warning, he takes a step toward the guys, raising his fist.
Holy shit. My dad is going topunchCole or Dane, whichever man he gets to first.
“Dad, don’t!” I jump forward and to the side, my hands still up in that surrendering pose.
It’s a good thing they are, because it manages to keep his fist from hitting me square in the jaw. Instead, my dad hits my palm like I’m training him for a big fight—and it hurts likehell—managing to pull back enough that all he does is knock me backwards into Nico, who catches me with an arm around the midsection.
It’s too intimate. I know it is the moment it happens, and Nico clearly isn’t thinking about it, just lifting me up and setting me back on my feet, asking me if I’m okay. Dane’s hands are balled into fists at his sides, and I recognize the look on Cole’s face from the first day we met—he’s thinking about fighting.
“Youhityour daughter,” Dane growls.
Dad breathes hard, holding his hand, having at least the decency to look slightly guilty. “Lucia, you shouldn’t have…”
“You hit me,” I whisper, holding my hand gingerly in the other. Dad is still looking between me and Nico, whose arm rests protectively around my midsection, like that’s enough of areason that he shouldn’t have to apologize for nearly punching me in the face.
Mary starts to cry from her hospital bed.
“Alright… what’s going on in here?” The same nice nurse who told me Mary’s room number bustles into the room, her eyes widening when she takes in the scene. Elliot stands next to Mary, running a hand over her hair. My parents are facing us down, and the three men around me are in power poses, like they might need to fight. I’m cradling my hand awkwardly, tears running down my face, more from the situation than from the pain.
“Nothing—” I try, but I wince when I raise my hand, the meaty part of my palm still throbbing from the hit.
“You all need to get out of here,” the nurse says, going to Mary’s bedside, glancing at the screen that beeps and chimes with her vitals. “You’re making her blood pressure go up.”
“Her blood pressure,” my dad growls, my mother’s arm on his shoulder seeming to be the only thing holding him back from trying to hit one of the guys again. “What aboutmyblood pressure?Lucy, tell methis—” he gestures at the men behind me, standing like bodyguards, “—isn’t happening. Tell me Ruby didn’t turn you into a damn harlot in that city.”
