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“Home sounds good.”
I grin as the last few men leave the meeting room, their gazes flicking to us as Zaid and Lucas join the three of us. It’s no secret among the Novak Syndicate that I live with all four men.
That I love all four men.
And that they love me back.
It’s unconventional, but no one has raised any issue with it. The organization is flourishing, and that matters to these men more than our slightly unique relationship dynamic.
Zaid steps closer, shifting my hair over my shoulder so his lips can find my neck. When Lucas approaches on the other side, a pleasurable shiver runs up my spine. I’m surrounded on all four sides, and the feeling of touching all of them at once makes my heart beat a little faster.
Once, about a month ago, all four of them fucked me
in this room—on the table, against the wall. Ciro laid me down on my back and ate me out like his life depended on it while the other three watched, then Zaid and Lucas made me come so hard a second time that I screamed their names. By the time Hale slid inside me, I’m sure everyone in the building knew exactly what we were doing in here.
But I didn’t care. I still don’t.
Because these men are mine, and I’m theirs.
And I want the whole fucking world to know.
Epilogue
GRACE
One Year Later
When we get back from celebrating at The Blind Pour, everyone is slightly buzzed, but not me. I didn’t drink all night, and I know the men noticed. All four of them shot me quizzical looks at one point or another. Usually, I can sling back whiskey with the best of them, holding my own with the generous servings Charlie is known to pour.
But not tonight.
It was just a precaution on my part, since I don’t know anything for certain yet. I made an excuse that I’d had a bit of a headache earlier in the day, and that seemed to ease Ciro’s worry. He’s the most observant of my four men, and I could see concern darkening his eyes when I turned down a glass of Glenfiddich.
I can’t wait any longer though. I need to know for sure.
Nerves bubble in my stomach. It’s normal to be a couple days late, right? It’s not like every period is going to be spot on. In fact, the period I should’ve had before my almost-wedding was completely skipped. My doctor at the time said it was common, just because of stress.
But I highly doubt that’s the case now.
Sure, there’s the usual stress that comes with mafia business, but that’s nothing to lose a period over.
“I’m going to go change,” I tell my men as we walk into the kitchen. It’s almost three in the morning, but they’re already pulling food out of the refrigerator, Ciro grabbing more drinks from the bar top.
“You going to join us afterward?” Lucas says as he clicks on the gas stove, putting his hand over a pan to test the heat.
“Sure,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. Calm. Normal.
Nothing in me feels steady, calm, or normal right now, but I can’t let them suspect anything is up until I know for sure. It might be nothing.
Or it might be what I think it is.
What I hope it is.
I leave them behind in the kitchen, quickly taking the grand staircase up to my bedroom, heading down the long hall. I’ve really got to convince them to put an elevator in this place, because I’m completely out of breath by the time I make it to my room.
That might just be the nerves though.
I let out a shuddery breath as I stride into my bathroom. I bought a pregnancy test a couple days ago, but it’s taken me a few days to work up the courage to even open it.
