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“I didn’t want to win, not really,” Theo admits. Then he snorts a humorless laugh. “I didn’t even want to play. But sometime in the middle of the game, I realized what I was playing for.” He cups the side of my face, running his thumb over my cheek. “It was for this. For you. For us. And the best way to keep the people I care about safe is to watch out for them from the top.”
A storm cloud seems to pass through his bright blue-green eyes. A hint of anger resonates in his voice as he
adds, “This will give me a chance to help my mom too. Luca didn’t give a shit about her or my uncle, or the bullshit my uncle tried to pull. But I do. And if we can pull the right strings, I’ll make sure he loses every-fucking-thing. His stake in my dad’s company. His own business. All of it.”
There’s grim satisfaction in his expression, and I lean forward to kiss him too. “I’ll be there to help you. Any way I can.”
“You already do, Rose.” He slides his fingers down the line of my jaw before dropping his hand.
Ryland is on my other side, and when he reaches up to catch my chin, I turn toward him, already knowing what he wants. My lips catch his as the scent of sandalwood infuses my soul, and I kiss him without hesitation.
I don’t care that we’re in public.
I don’t care that anyone could see me being held between these three men, kissing each of them deeply.
In fact, I hope they do.
I hope they see the kind of love that’s possible even in this fucked up world.
When Ryland and I break apart, Marcus shifts my hair over my shoulder, brushing his lips along the curve of my neck. Then he releases me, catching my hand in his.
“Come on, angel. Let’s go home.”
Epilogue
Five Years Later
“That’s good. Keep your arm up though. It’ll help you block a counterstrike.”
Ryland nods approvingly as he assesses my form. We’re in the massive home gym on the lower level of our house. When the men all sold their places so we could move in together, one of the first things Ryland did was set up the gym so we could continue on with our training sessions.
I never expected to like it so much, but fighting is fucking addictive. And although there are plenty of things I have to modify because of my missing limb, I’ve never felt held back by it. I’m a quick learner, and I’m used to adapting. And as Ryland once affectionately told me, I’m excellent at channeling my rage.
I took that as a high compliment.
Breathing hard, I shift my stance a little, making the adjustment he suggested. Then I whip my left hand out, catching his open palm with a solid punch. My other arm comes up to block as he swipes at me in retaliation, and he grins when I stop his left hook.
“Good.”
Something shifts in his hazel eyes, a hint of fire burning in their depths a split second before he moves again. This time, instead of going for a hit, he ducks low and grabs me around the waist, driving me backward and bringing me to the ground.
Instead of fighting it, I let it happen, feeding into the momentum of our bodies and throwing myself into the takedown. As soon as we hit the mats, I buck my hips and roll, switching our positions so I’m on top. My thighs squeeze tight around his waist as I wedge my forearm under his chin, my dark ponytail falling on one side of my face.
“Mommy, are you beating up daddy again?”
The sweet little voice from the doorway makes Ryland and me both look. Cassidy is standing with her hand resting on the doorframe, a smile on her face. She’s got dimples in her cheeks that come out when she grins like that, and it gets me every time.
“It was a draw,” Ryland says, amusement in his rumbling voice.
Cassidy takes in our position again, her brow furrowing skeptically. “It doesn’t look like it.”
Goddammit, I love my daughter.
She may only be three and a half, but she’s sharp as a knife and has all of her daddies wrapped around her little finger.
I look back down at Ryland, grinning as I sit up. “Looks like the ref has spoken.”
He rolls his eyes, sitting up beneath me and wrapping his arms around me. He’s half hard in his gym shorts, and I have a feeling if we hadn’t been interrupted when we were, he would’ve carried me upstairs and buried himself inside me in about two minutes.
