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Knowing I still have a few more minutes before they get here, I leave my room and walk toward the bar to pour myself a quick glass of wine.
Glass of wine in hand, I sit in Ronan’s usual spot and look around the apartment. Over the course of the last two months, I’ve been making trips down to the storage unit where Ronan put my things from my old apartment and brought them up here, along with buying a few new things here and there. They even let me add some fun wallpaper to a few of the walls. On the built-in bookshelves next to the TV, I smile when I see, between stacks of my favorite books, the framed photo of my parents, Cece, and me when I was little, a black and white photo of my parents from the day they got married, and one a customer captured of Cece and I laughing behind the front desk of the bookstore a few weeks before she died.
I changed out the large black rug in the den for one with a dark green and tan Persian rug I found at one of my favorite flea markets. A wide variety of my plants sit throughout the apartment, along with some of my favorite throw pillows and blankets in the den and each of the bedrooms. My eclectic coffee mugs fill the cabinet above Mac’s precious coffee machine, and some of my favorite pieces of art hang on the walls.
While it is still, very clearly, an apartment belonging to three men with expensive taste, you can now see me here as well.
The elevator dings, and I down my last sip of wine. “Honey, we’re home!” Mac’s cheerful voice booms through the apartment, and I can’t help but let out a laugh.
Ronan spots me and raises a brow as they make their way over. “Pretty sure that’s my spot, Baby.”
I shrug. “Felt like being naughty.” His eyes darken, but even the terrifying mafia boss can’t fight the smile that tugs at his lips. I stand from the chair and make my way toward them, giving them each a kiss hello.
As I pull away from Finn, he grabs my hand, holding me still in front of him. “You look beautiful, Angel, and those boots,” he groans as he hones in on my stocking-covered leg between the top of my boots and the bottom of my dress.
I kick out one of my toes. “Pretty nice, right? One of my boyfriends picked them out for me.” The three of them share a look I don’t quite understand before Finn looks back at me.
“Hmmm, bet they’d look even better wrapped around me.”
No matter how many times I’m at the receiving end of their filthy mouths, I can’t stop the blush that crawls across my cheeks. “I could probably make that happen.”
“Later,” he promises.
“You ready, Pretty Girl?” I stare at the men I love with my entire being, butterflies in my belly and heat pooling even lower. I’ll never get over how damn sexy each of them are. And I’m the lucky bitch that gets them all to herself.
Mac’s dressed in his usual all-black ensemble, except he’s dressed it up with a pair of black slacks and sweater, and a dark brown pair of leather boots. His smile is beaming as his gray eyes dance across my face. Finn’s wearing black dress pants and button-up with a caramel-brown wool coat open at the front. His beard is trimmed, and his blonde hair is perfectly undone, just the way I like it and how he now wears it daily. When my eyes land on his black leather boots, I smile at the scuff on the toe. Just last week, I was feeling particularly bratty, and when I sassed off a little too much, he chased me through the apartment. Once he caught me, my Converse scuffed the tip of his right shoe. My punishment made it all worth it, though. Judging by the look on his face, he’s thinking about the same thing I am. Ronan’s got on a dark green suit, black dress shirt, and black shoes. A midnight curl hangs over his forehead, pointing to his pools of blue. His hands are adorned in his usual jewelry, including the signet ring I bought to replace the one he refused to let me give back. At the thought of it, I instinctively twirl the one on my thumb. The top two buttons of his dress shirt are undone, and my mouth salivates at the site of his chest tattoos.
Like I said, so damn sexy.
They each smile at me, fully aware I’m gawking at them. Swallowing hard, I answer, “Just need my jacket.” I quickly grab my black peacoat off my bed and throw it on, leaving the buttons undone until we get to the lobby. The elevator always feels like it’s a hundred degrees. Then again, it might just be me. Considering I’m usually sandwiched between three giants who constantly do everything they can to turn me on.
Like breathing.
How dare they.
Ronan and Finn are waiting by the open elevator, but my sweet, sweet Mac is still waiting where I left him, hand outstretched and ready for me to grab.
When we get into the elevator, Ronan hits the button for the rooftop instead of pressing one for the lobby. I look up at them in confusion. And, of course, like the smart-asses they are, they all say nothing and simply smile down at me.
I roll my eyes at Ronan, who pulls his lip between his teeth before growling, “Keep sassing me, Baby. It turns me on.”
Mac reaches around me and smacks his brother in the head. “Focus.”
“Fight nice boys,” Finn jokes from the other side of Mac.
Before I can ask them what exactly is going on, the elevator stops, and the doors open. My jaw drops as I step away from the guys and out of the elevator. Where there were a few sets of string lights, there are now dozens, and across the entirety of the snow-covered rooftop are red and white rose petals along with at least fifty lit candles. Snowflakes fall from the sky as I take a few more steps forward and listen as the soft melody of Hozier’s “Work Song” floats through the air.
When I turn around, my breath stalls in my lungs, my heart stops beating in my chest, and every thought in my brain ceases to exist. Tears fill my eyes, and I don’t even bother stopping them.
All three are on their knees, velvet ring boxes in their hands.
Holy shit.
Mac lets out a laugh. “So, not quite speechless, but pretty close.”
I must have said that out loud.
“Wha–wh . . .” I know what’s happening, but my brain can’t seem to comprehend it.
