Loved by Them: A Reverse Harem Romance (Quintessence Book 5) Read online

  More than that, her possessiveness had never really been put to the test because they spent so much time at the house. And recently, when she might have been willing to go on dates with them, she’d had that stupid concussion to deal with.

  The headaches still came, but they were easier to manage, and not so debilitating, meaning she had more freedom.

  Trouble was, recent events had made that seem impossible. But her picture had been kept out of the papers ever since the news had broken and Devon had begged, stolen or borrowed to have an injunction put in place. So, though only a few weeks had passed, news being what it was—traveling at the speed of light—no one really remembered what she looked like, making her safe. Safe to explore London with her men. Safe to go on dates and do regular stuff.

  So yeah, she was happy. And until the status quo changed, she would continue to be. Even then, she’d deal with whatever her current circumstances triggered, because she had her five delicious bosses to look after her.

  She cuddled the knowledge to herself.

  Sascha knew they hadn’t been her bosses for a hell of a long time, had been her men for longer, but the label sent dirty, naughty thoughts sashaying through her mind like she and Devon had just done across the dance hall.

  “Was it just me? Or did we dance up a storm in there?”

  His chuckle was low, dark. “We definitely danced up a storm,” he teased, making her eyes widen.

  She’d expected a serious remark about storm fronts and how dancing would have no negative impact on the climate, but instead, he seemed to be enjoying her amusement and her happiness, enough for him to relax too.

  She reached for his hands and jerked him to a halt. She’d worn one of her few dresses—a sweetheart neckline with a pencil skirt, in a dark navy blue with a huge cabbage rose at the left hip that curved over her belly and ass, topping it with a fluffy shrug to cover her shoulders.

  He wore his usual disreputable jeans and tee shirt, but he’d dragged on a leather jacket, and especially for the occasion, she thought with a chuckle, shoes. Dark brown loafers that were almost like slippers—totally inappropriate for London’s rain-slicked streets.

  Not that he seemed to mind.

  With their torsos pressed together, their hands gripping the other’s tightly, she asked, “What made you do this?”

  “I wanted to see you smile.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ve been too sad of late. You’re such a happy person,” he told her, damn near breaking her heart. “I thought this would make you laugh.”

  Her smile was slow but loaded with meaning. “You always make me laugh.”

  “I also make you angry,” he said with a sigh. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be.” She reached up on tiptoe to press a kiss to his lips. “Although, thank you for apologizing. I like it when you make me angry.” He gaped at her until she winked. “Don’t tell Sawyer.”

  She curled her arm through his and let him lead her back to Sean’s Maserati sedan.

  It still astonished her that Sean had a Maserati. Although, he had the boring one, so that kind of fit. Not that Sean was boring. He just wasn’t flashy.

  If anyone was flashy, it was Andrei. Not in the American way. All white teeth and gold watches. Just… there was something about him that shrieked money. Kurt too. Although, she supposed that fit considering the pair of them had been raised in wealthy families.

  Her lips twitched. Comparing Kurt’s family with Andrei’s would undoubtedly make Kurt’s mother have some kind of epileptic seizure. Old money to mafia money… She rolled her eyes. When had her life turned into some kind of Dynasty-esque saga. Seriously, she fully expected Joan Collins to make an appearance in her home any day now.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “That my life belongs on a soap opera.”

  “It kind of does when you think about it,” Devon said, pursing his lips. “You’re the secret baby and secret heiress! You’d be the headlining act.”

  She grunted. “Thanks. Queen of drama.”

  “Nah. Your life might be a fuckfest, but you’re not.”

  That had her hiding a grin lest she encourage him. “Fuckfest?” she asked, peering up at him. Sometimes, she felt so goddamn short around them, even in her stacked heels. But now, it made her feel delicate.

  And considering delicate could in no way describe a woman with Sascha’s tits and or hips, that was a miracle in itself.

  “Yeah. You know. A festival of fuck.”

  “That sounds like some place we should visit.”

  He pondered that a second, falling quiet. “Isn’t that just an orgy?”

  “I’m game if you are.” The husky words tripped from her lips without a second’s thought.

  He cast her a look. “You’re not ready for an orgy.”

  “Oh? How would you know?”

  “I’ve been in one,” he told her, his tone close to proud.

  She snorted. “Why does that not surprise me?” Considering the way Susanna had been drooling over him, it made perfect sense. Especially when she remembered what Sawyer had told her about the math groupies Devon had had around campus when he was at Oxford.

  “It shouldn’t surprise you, Sascha,” he told her somberly. “I wasn’t a virgin when I met you.”

  Biting back a laugh, she told him equally as somberly, “I wasn’t either, Devon.”

  That had him scowling. “I refuse to believe you’ve been in an orgy.”

  “And why’s that?” she asked, scowling back at him.

  “Because you think being with us is scandalous.”

  Shit. He had a point. “I don’t anymore.”

  “No, but the clue is in the word ‘anymore’.” He shot her a knowing look. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep on corrupting you. Slowly but surely, you’ll get used to it.”

  “I’m used to it now,” she grumbled, though she wasn’t entirely certain why she was grumbling.

  He patted her hand and just said, “There, there.”

  Slipping off her heels, Sascha let her toes sink into the thickly-piled carpet in the living room. With a sigh of relief to be off them, and scribbling a mental reminder to wear something a little more sensible for the next class, she sank into the sofa. Nestling her ass amid the blankets she’d left in a mess only three hours before, she cuddled back into her favorite position.

  That had been a whirlwind.

  Exactly what the doctor ordered, she realized with a wide grin. A few gropes, a lot of giggles even if the instructor was a little too hands-on for her liking, and Devon had managed to make that a blast.

  If his intention had been to cheer her up, then it had certainly worked.

  Before she had a chance to do more than grin dopily, not even switch on the TV, the door opened. Expecting one of her men, she saw her father instead.

  It was still kind of weird for Henry to pop up the way he did. She was so used to him being in Tucson and her being in London that for him to be in her space came as a surprise.

  She really needed to get with the program.

  “Hey dad,” she said with a smile, then patted the seat at her side as she switched on the TV.

  “Hey sweetheart,” he replied, shuffling over in his ratty sweats and tee shirt. She could remember him in nothing else—a Patriots fan in Arizona, one place he didn’t have to be ashamed about his team was at home. And considering the guys followed soccer, not football, he was safe from ridicule here.

  “What are you watching?”

  “I don’t know yet,” she told him, starting to flick through the guide. “Devon and I just got back in. I’m beat.”

  “I’ll bet.” He shot her a look. “How did you like the tango classes?”

  “You knew and didn’t tell me?” she cried.

  Henry laughed. “Heard him plotting earlier in the kitchen.” He shook his head. “That boy’s a weird one.”

  She nudged him in the side. “Be nice.”

  He shrugg
ed. “Not being mean. Just stating the truth. Never been around such an odd ball but hell, he’s funny, smart, and rich. What more can a man ask for for his daughter?”

  Probably that the funny, smart, and rich guy was the only one in her life. Not the other four who came as part of the package too, she supposed. Not that she said that out loud.

  “How was he plotting?” she asked, curious. In his own way, Devon was very decisive. The only time he hadn’t been was that night when she’d come out of her stuporous vegging session. He’d looked panicked and flustered at the sight of her in the kitchen when, only hours before, she’d been grungy and in desperate need of a shower and a toothbrush.

  Trying to understand his mind would take a lifetime though. There was no use in throwing certain questions around. She could ask Sawyer, of course. Or Sean. Ask why Devon had looked so freaked out at the sight of her cooking, and could only calm when he’d pleaded with her to admit that sometimes, women just made no sense at all…

  But the truth was, she did have a lifetime to understand him, and saw no reason to ask unnecessary questions that would be resolved with time.

  Well, unless it started happening frequently, that is.

  Her father curled an arm about her shoulder, jolting her from her musings. “Trying to work up the courage to tell you.”

  “Why?” she asked, astonished. “It’s a gift. It’s not like he was giving me bad news.”

  “God knows how the boy’s mind works,” Henry said with a grunt, then weaseled, “Let me have the remote, baby.”

  “My house, my rules,” she retorted, throwing back the dictate he’d sworn by throughout her teenage years.

  When he shot her a hurt look, as well as a pout, she rolled her eyes. “Don’t throw me the puppy dog eyes. I know your game.”

  “Had to give it a shot,” he confessed almost immediately, then pressed his lips to her temple. “How was the class anyway?”

  “Kind of disastrous for me. Although Devon rocked at it. He was like a pro within minutes. It was nuts. The teacher kept flirting with him, which was irritating but he totally ignored her when she tried to get him to practice the next part of the lesson with her.”

  He laughed. “He did? I like him more and more.”

  “Oh yeah. Devon was all, ‘I’m not here with you.’ He can be so literal sometimes.” Her mouth curved in a warm smile. “I love that about him.”

  “Anyone who can put that smile on your face, then I like them too.” He squeezed her shoulders. “You doing okay, sugar?”

  She turned her face into his arm as she confessed, “I could be better, dad. Things are still crazy.”

  “They’ll get crazier still. The media’s been contained so far but it will get worse before it gets better.”

  She nodded, sighing with the knowledge he was right. “I just want things to be easy again.”

  “They won’t be. How can they, Sascha?” He grunted. “Hell, I should never have let you move back to the UK. All of this would have stayed under wraps.”

  She snorted. “Like you could have stopped me.”

  “True,” he conceded with a sigh. “You barely gave me any warning at all before you moved. Just said, ‘That’s it, I’m going to London.’ My world about broke when you told me that,” he admitted. “I knew I was failing your mom, but I didn’t… what could I do? The distance between us was my fault. I know Natasha will never forgive me for it.”

  Frowning, she huddled against him. “There’s no fault to be had, daddy.”

  “Sure there is.” His sigh was heavy. “When your mom died, Sascha, I just fell apart. I didn’t… God, I loved that woman.”

  Her throat closed at the depth of emotion in his voice. “How did you meet?”

  “We didn’t lie to you entirely,” Henry said ruefully, but his smile was sad. “Her car broke down on a road on my beat. It wasn’t the best of areas, and I went to help her. The rest, as they say, is history.”

  “But she had me by that point. How did she tell you about… everything?”

  “She didn’t. I thought you were hers.” He shrugged. “Thought that for close to three years. It never mattered. I fell for you as soon as I saw you too. You were so fucking beautiful. All big green eyes that used to follow me. You loved my badge. Got to the point where flashing it at you was the only thing that would stop you crying some nights.” He shook his head at the memory. “That and the police radio.” He reached up to run his knuckles against her hair. “You were a weird kid.”

  “Makes sense,” she told him wryly. “I’m a weirder adult.”

  “We’re all weird, honey,” he informed her, his gaze caught by something on the TV. “Anyway, we started dating. I just thought she was a single mom. It didn’t bother me. I was just astonished she wanted to date me. She had money when you were a baby. Your…” He cleared his throat. “Biological dad had dumped a lot on her to keep you both safe. She had a good car, nice house. Lived a good life. It was only when we got together properly she stopped depending on it.

  “The money stayed in the bank for your college education and for big expenses. You were my daughter. I was paying as was my right. In the end, it was a relief we had the money. Most of her medical expenses were covered by my insurance but she had some final experimental treatments that about wiped out the fund. That’s why you had to work through college.” He clenched his jaw. “I hated touching that money, but we’d have lost the house otherwise. I’d have lost it to keep her with us, mind, but nothing worked.”

  She closed her eyes at the memories. As a kid, Sascha hadn’t worried about the finances of being sick. Had just been terrified about how ill her mom was. She couldn’t begin to comprehend how hard it must have been for her father. Dealing with the terror of losing his wife, as well as worrying about the money, then Sascha too.

  She’d been hard on him, she realized. Way too hard as only a kid could be.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

  “What for?” he asked, sounding befuddled.

  “I was hard on you. After she died, I mean.”

  “No. You weren’t. You were a grieving daughter, sweetheart. It was your right to hate the world.” He let out a deep breath, admitting, “I just made you hate it harder by bringing Linda into the picture.”

  “Why did you?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Why do we do anything?” he replied, his tone even but she could hear the self-deprecation buried within. “I was frightened and alone. I had you to take care of, and though it had never mattered to me before, that was because I had your mom. You were looking to me to know shit about periods and the birds and the bees. I was fucking useless.

  “I always thought we were close, but when Natasha passed away, I realized we weren’t. I wanted you to have that again, and I was stupid and ignorant by even thinking another woman could fill your mom’s shoes. Jesus, it went beyond stupidity. I was filling your mom’s side of the bed too… Took me fucking ages to get used to her touching me.”

  When he clenched his jaw, she said, her tone lighter, “I really don’t need to hear about you with the stepmom.”

  He let out a jittery breath. “No. I guess not. TMI, huh?” He tensed at her side. “I just… I wanted to help and made things a thousand times worse.”

  “Why did you guys split up?” she asked, curious for the first time. Her dad wasn’t often in a sharing mood, so she decided to take advantage of the unusual frame of mind.

  “Linda was good to me, Sascha. You know that. I tried to give her everything she needed, but…” He shrugged. “I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did. I’m as in love with your mother as I was the first time I saw her.

  “A woman can only flog a dead horse for so long before she figures out the horse has gone. And I was gone before I even met Linda.”

  Sadness filled her, making her throat close. “Oh, dad. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be, sweetheart. At least I had her for a while. It wasn’t long enough, but some peopl
e never really know what love is. I do.” He jerked his shoulder. “Doesn’t stop me from getting lonely. I guess it’s just something I’ll have to deal with. I’m not going to put another woman through what Linda had to deal with.”

  Sascha bit her lip. Having always disliked her stepmom, having seen her as trying to fill her mom’s shoes—exactly what her dad had wanted and Sascha hadn’t—it was difficult to empathize.

  But Linda had had a shitty time of it, she saw.

  How would she cope with the idea of her men loving Janna still? Of her being a replacement, and a lacking one at that?

  Heart sore at the notion, she clung to her father. “You don’t have to stay in Tucson, dad.”

  He let out a laugh. “‘Course I do. It’s my home, baby.” Henry pressed a kiss to her temple.

  She shook her head. “No. Your home is with your family. Now that grandma’s passed, you’re alone there.”

  “Where would I go?”

  “Here?” Sascha shrugged. “I’m a billionaire, didn’t you know? I think I can afford to keep my father in the style he’s become accustomed to.”

  Her words had a bark of laughter escaping him. “Think you can keep me in pork rinds and IPA, huh?”

  Her lips twitched. “I figure as much.”

  Silence fell between them, and though she’d almost expected him to shrug off the offer, he surprised her, a few moments later, murmuring, “I’ll think about it.”

  Chapter Seven

  Devon sat back in the armchair that was his alone. Well, he’d share it with Sascha, but nobody else was allowed to touch it. It was cushioned and cozy, held his ass just right, and cosseted his spine in a way that made him feel like he was in bed.

  Sometimes, after Sean had gone to his bedroom, Devon would sneak down here to Sean’s study and sleep in the chair. Not that he had to sneak. Sean’s office was open season, after all. Even when he was working on a case, his blackboard out, with case files pinned to it as he tried to figure out the solution to some psychopath’s riddle, he had an open door.

  “What’s wrong?” Sean asked, not looking up from his computer when Devon had settled in his rightful place.