The Perfect Fit
: Chapter 11

Standing in the private elevator on my way to the penthouse apartment of the most expensive building in Manhattan, I can’t stop my legs from shaking. The interior is gold and glass and bigger than Jen’s living room. My knuckles turn white around the handle of my overnight bag.

What the hell am I going to talk about with the three richest men in the city? Which of the five boroughs has the best slices of pizza in the city? What series I’m binging on Netflix this week? There’s no way we have anything in common. Well, I guess there’s one thing—I’m currently working in the mail room of the Grayson News building, and they’re about to buy the company.

The elevator doors open to Xander leaning against the wall, arms folded across his broad chest. How the hell does this man make low-slung faded jeans and a plain white T-shirt look hotter than a bespoke suit?

“Hey there, shorty.” He steps forward, his hand held out for my bag. I reluctantly release it and take in my surroundings. The floors of the hallway are white marble, and the walls are a muted olive green. Simple but tasteful.

He nudges my arm. “Cat got your tongue, shorty?”

“I’m not short,” I retort. “I’m five-five. That’s like average height.”

Granted, he does tower over me, all six foot whatever of him, and I have to crane my neck to look into his eyes. He winks, and my ovaries explode with the memory of his kiss last night. I’m pretty sure he had his hands on my ass at some point. My face heats.

“Let me take your coat too. You look a little warm.” Grinning wickedly, he holds out his hand. I shrug out of my coat and pass it to him.

“I’ll show you to the kitchen and then put your things in the guest room.” He walks down the hallway and indicates I should too. I follow him and the mouthwatering scent of roasting meat into the kitchen.

Zeke is seated at the island looking at his cell phone while West stands over the stove.

“Our guest is here,” Xander announces, and they both look up.

“Lily,” West says with a hint of a smile. “Take a seat. Dinner won’t be long. Zeke will get you a drink. Use the end guest room, Fitch.” Then he turns back to the stove.

“Fitch?”

Xander rolls his eyes. “My nickname. Zeke came up with it. He used to call me Abercrombie, but it was a bit of a mouthful, hey big guy?”

Zeke scowls at him.

“Like Abercrombie and Fitch?” I ask.

Wearing a sheepish smile, Xander shrugs and nods.

A laugh bubbles out of me. That is the best nickname he could possibly have. “Because you look like a catalog model?”

“Apparently so,” he answers, then walks out of the kitchen carrying my bag.

Zeke slips off his stool. “Wine?”

“Um.” I tug at the sleeves of my sweater. “Can I have a soda?”

He frowns at me. “Soda?”

Do they even have soda in this place? Or do they only drink wine, champagne, and the elixir of the gods? I clear my throat. “Please.”

Zeke rolls his eyes. “Hey West, what soda goes best with roast lamb?”

West laughs softly. “Don’t be a dick and get the girl a coke, Z.”

I flash him my sweetest smile. Yeah, Z. Don’t be a dick.

By the time Xander gets back, Zeke has barely spoken two words to me, but his gaze scalds me while I look around. The kitchen is huge. Full of expensive gadgets and marble countertops, but’s it’s somehow warm and homey. Not at all what I was expecting. West has been chatting with both Zeke and me while working on dinner. To my surprise, he looks completely in his element. I never would have pictured West Archer whipping up a home-cooked meal. Probably because I figured that they’d have a team of servants to cook and clean for them.

Xander maneuvers around West, grabbing silverware and napkins and setting places around the island. Zeke hands West a pair of oven mitts without being asked, and I rest my chin on my hand, watching the three of them and admiring the way they seem to communicate without words.

“We have a dining room, but we prefer to eat here,” Xander says after he grabs a stack of plates from a cabinet. “That okay with you?”

“Sure.” I’d much prefer to eat here than at a fancy dining table anyway.

“Perfect.” West pulls a tray of golden roasted potatoes from the oven and nudges Zeke’s arm, tilting his chin toward the lamb joint resting on the counter. “Can you carve?”

Zeke grumbles but goes to grab a large knife from the block. Something about the way he holds it in his hand sends a shiver down my spine.

Despite my nerves and the worry that we’d have absolutely nothing in common, two hours have flashed by, during which time I ate some of the best roasted lamb and potatoes I’ve ever tasted in my life and laughed until I cried at Xander’s funny stories. Even Zeke’s grumpiness has faded a bit, giving me a small glimpse of the man I met at the club last night.

Inevitably, it’s not long before our conversation turns to Grayson News.

“So, you work in the mail room?” West asks.

“Technically, yes. But I’m rarely in there. I’m one of the bike messengers, so I’m out riding around the city most of the day.”

“And you like it?” Xander asks, leaning forward as though he’s genuinely interested.

I shrug. “Yeah, but it’s not my dream.”

“What is your dream then, Lily?” My name rolls off Zeke’s tongue like it belongs there.

“To be a writer for the magazine.” A skitter of excitement runs through me as I think about how close I am to finally achieving that dream. “I’ve had a couple of small articles published so far, but I’m working on a bigger one right now. I’m hoping Julian—he’s the editor—will use it as a feature.”

West nods and takes a sip of his wine while Zeke stares at me with curiosity. It suddenly occurs to me that they might think I had an ulterior motive for coming here tonight. “That’s not why I came to dinner, by the way. I-I would never want to have an article in the magazine unless it got there on its own merit.”

Xander laughs softly.

Zeke scratches his neck. “Why would we think that was why you came to dinner?”

My eyes dart between the three of them. “Well, I know you’re in the middle of a takeover of Grayson News Corp. Everyone who works there does.”

“A merger,” West says coolly.

“A what?” I blink at him.

“You said it’s a takeover. It’s a merger. Two different things.”

I pull at the collar of my turtleneck. Is it hot in here? “Oh. Okay. I just know people are worried about their jobs.”

“No one is going to lose their jobs, and Jensen Michaels should be reassuring every single employee of that fact,” West says, his jaw clenched in annoyance.

Jensen Michaels is the current CEO of Grayson News Corp. I’ve never met the guy, but he’s considered a god in some circles. The devil in others. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t really speak to us in the mail room.” I shrug. “But it’s good to know there won’t be any layoffs.”

West takes a sip of his wine. He could be blowing smoke up my ass about the whole job thing, but I don’t get that vibe from him. In fact, I don’t get a bad vibe from any of them, not even Zeke’s grouchy ass. I’ve spent a large portion of my life surrounded by cruel men who do terrible things, and I’m good at reading people. The Unholy Trinity have been impeccable hosts. Or dates. Whatever this is. They’ve welcomed me into their beautiful home, cooked me a lovely meal, and been the perfect gentlemen. I mean, that latter part is kind of a shame because the three of them are insanely hot, but the night’s still young.

I sip my soda, and the three of them share a look that makes goosebumps pop out all over my body. A shudder runs down my spine. Did I think that too soon?

“Seeing as Lily was so open about why she hasn’t come here tonight, should we tell her why we invited her?” Xander asks. His voice drops about two octaves, and it makes heat sear between my thighs.

My eyes bounce between the three of them, and my throat suddenly feels drier than the Mojave Desert. They stare at me, and West licks his lips like a lion about to feast on its prey. “Why did you ask me here?” I ask, my voice little more than a whisper.

Zeke sucks on his top lip and looks at the ceiling. Xander smiles at me. It’s not his warm, friendly smile though. It’s different. Dangerous. Sexy as hell.

West takes a deep breath. “We have a proposition for you, Lily. It may seem like an odd request, but it’s not the first time we’ve done this. We want you to hear us out and then take a few days to think it over.”

I take a gulp of my soda, and my hands tremble as I place my glass down on the counter. My heart rate has doubled in the span of ten seconds. I feel faint and hot and dizzy. Because despite no one saying anything remotely to do with sex, the sexual tension in the room has ratcheted up about two hundred levels. I clear my throat. “What’s your proposition?”

“We want to date you, Lily. All three of us.”

Holy fucknuggets. He’s gotta be screwing with me. “At the same time?” I croak.

“Yes, at the same time. Although to the outside world, it will appear like you’re only dating one of us.”

Xander shoots a glare at West before directing his attention to me. “Well, it’s more than dating.”

I frown. “More than dating?”

West nods. “We’d like you to move in here with us for three months.”

Now I know he’s messing with me. A laugh bubbles from my lips, but none of them are laughing or even smiling, so I humor them. “Three months? And then what happens after? I just go on my merry way and we pretend we’re friends? Or we never speak again? How does that part work?”

Xander sighs. “Three months is just the starting point. To see if this thing between us works. If it does, then …”

I tilt my head. “Then?”

Xander shrugs. “Then you stay here.”

I open my mouth to speak but no words come out, so I merely sit and gape at the three of them.

“I told you we should have taken this slower and drawn up a contract,” West grumbles.

I almost fall off my stool. “A contract?”

West nods. “We told you we’ve done this before, Lily. Many times. But we usually don’t spring this on someone the second time we meet. And we usually draw up a contract explaining all the rules.”

This is sounding freakier by the second. “The rules?”

“He’s making it sound weirder than it is,” Xander says, shooting West another warning glare.

My mind races with questions, all of them begging to be asked first. “So, what happened to all of these other women you tried this with?”

West glares at me, his jaw ticking. “They didn’t work out, obviously.”

I wrinkle my nose and shake my head. “Three super-hot billionaire dudes ask a woman to live with them and ‘date’”—I actually use air quotes for that word and hate myself for it—“them, and it never works out. What the hell is wrong with you all?”

Zeke snorts into his wine, and that makes me smile.

Xander arches one eyebrow. “You think we’re super hot?”

I roll my eyes and fix Xander with the hardest glare I can muster. “Oh, come on. You own mirrors. Like you don’t already know that.”

West lets out a deep sigh and draws our attention back to him. “Maybe it wasn’t us. Perhaps there was something wrong with them.”

Of course. Always the women’s fault, right. Misogynistic assholes. “Ah, I see now.” With a nod, I slide off my stool.

“You see what?” Xander asks.

“You just use them up for three months and then toss them out, is that it? I mean are these poor women supposed to satisfy all of your needs every single day and night? It must be exhausting.” Despite my argument, what they’re asking has my panties wet and I haven’t even been touched. But that’s just the fantasy of it all, right? “I bet the reality of dating you three means constant blowjobs with minimal return.”

“Actually, Xander and West give incredible blow jobs, so that wouldn’t fall entirely on you,” Zeke replies coolly, and I realize I said that last part out loud.

But wait. What? Now this just got a whole lot more interesting. Studying the three of them, I wait for someone to say that I’m being punked, but they’re all wearing dead-serious expressions. I must admit, they are the finest looking men I’ve ever seen, and the thought of them together as well as with me—I have to clench my fists to keep from fanning my face. The visual alone is enough to make a girl come in her panties. But what on earth do they see in me?

Xander licks his lips. “And it’s less like minimal return”—he glances between his two friends—“and more like three times your investment back.”

“I’d say more,” West adds, and his eyes twinkle with deviousness. “The number of times we make a return has never been an issue.”

I swallow the breath that sticks in my throat. Triple the orgasms. My pussy clenches, letting me know she approves, and I squeeze my thighs together to silence her. “So, you’re all together.” I wave my hand in the air. “Like with each other too?”

Xander grins. “Yeah.”

“So, who’s a top and who’s a bottom? Or do you all switch?”

West cracks a smile, but it’s Xander who replies. “Zeke and West are tops. I’m a bottom.”

I nod, fascinated by their dynamic. I had no freaking clue they were together like that, but I guess what they do in private is their business. And maybe mine now too? “I’m a bottom by the way. Just FYI.”

For some reason that makes Xander and West laugh, and even Zeke shows a trace of amusement.

“What? Some women top.”

At this point, West slides off his stool and walks around the island. He stands so close to me that I can smell his fresh masculine scent, and it makes the space between my legs ache with need.

“If you agree to this, Lily, there’s not a single scenario where it won’t be you getting fucked by one of us. We know you’re a bottom, princess.”

I swallow hard. Holy cow, I so want to be fucked by all three of them. I mean not all at the same time—or maybe at the same time? Shaking my head to clear it, I wonder what the hell is wrong with me. I breathe in West’s scent, and it must scramble my senses because I’m actually considering this. “H-how long do I have to make a decision?”

He leans closer, his lips dusting over my hair. I think he’s going to kiss me, but he reaches behind me and grabs my glass from the counter. “Take a few days.”

Licking my lips, I nod.

His cloudy gray eyes narrow on my face. “We’re discreet about our lifestyle, Lily. Whether you agree to this or not, we ask that you keep this to yourself.”

“Of course,” I assure him. What I don’t tell him is that keeping secrets is my thing. That I have so many secrets of my own, I sometimes forget what the truth is supposed to be.