Chapter 33 The Ground Rules
THE GROUND RULES
QUINTON
It’s been years since I’ve hand washed dishes.
Damon too. But there’s something soothing about the warm water, the fragrant soap, the trickle of the tap.
The fireplace crackles softly as Damon and I work together to clean all the dishes from breakfast. This isn’t normal for us, yet it feels like home.
The kitchen overlooks the large living room where Emery sits on the couch, engrossed in The Iliad. The safe house has a small library stacked with dozens of classics, from epic poems to regency romances. I hope the story we’re writing isn’t as trying as the tales of Homer.
Christ, I hope not.
I steal glances at Emery while drying a plate. Her fingers delicately turn the pages. She’s lost in the ancient poem. And I’m grateful. I’m grateful she’s found a moment of peace in such chaos. She needs to relax. Destress. We all do.
"Quin," Damon's voice breaks the quiet, "now might not seem like the ideal time to discuss our terms, but it's necessary."
I glance at him. It’s important to have this conversation, but now? Now might not be the right time. "Damon, look at her. We can't disrupt that."
Damon sets a plate on the drying rack, his eyes never leaving Emery. "Her comfort is my top priority, but the longer we delay, the more complicated it becomes. She needs to understand our terms, our...arrangement."
I shake my head, placing a mug on the rack. "Some of those terms aren't relevant right now, Damon. We're not—"
Damon interrupts me, his tone clipped. "But they will be, Quin. This isn't going to last forever. They'll find Simone and Toni, and once they do, we'll go home. And when we do, she needs to understand what home looks like."
I sigh. He’s right. Of course he’s right. Reluctantly, I stack the last plate and turn to face him. "Fine. But if at any point I see her getting even the tiniest bit anxious or uncomfortable, we stop. We stop and we just let everything unfold naturally.”
“If we let things unfold naturally, Quinton,” Damon says, jaw tight, “we’ll rip each others’ throats out all over again. We both know that’s not what Emery wants.” He nods toward the living room. “After you.”
Swallowing my protests, I lead Damon into the living room.
"Emery," I say, drawing her attention from the book, "we need to talk.” I clear my throat slightly. “About us."
Her gaze flits between Damon and me, curiosity and wariness dancing across her face. She closes the book, setting it aside, and straightens up on the couch.
"Is something wrong?" she asks, her voice soft and tentative.
I exchange a glance with Damon. "No, darling," I reply, taking a seat next to her. "But there are things we need to discuss. Terms, boundaries..."
Damon joins us, his expression serious. "We need to establish some ground rules, Emery. For all our sakes."
Her brows furrow slightly, tensing up. "Ground rules? What do you mean?"
Damon and I share a silent understanding. It's now or never. "Emery, we care about you deeply," I begin, choosing my words carefully. "And this arrangement between us, it needs to be clear. We can't afford any…misunderstandings."
She looks at each of us, her gaze lingering on Damon, who takes a deep breath. "It's about trust," he adds. "Trust and communication. To avoid certain…conflicts, we need to make sure that we're all on the same page."
I place a hand on Emery's thigh. "We want you to be comfortable, but we also need to be realistic about what's happening here."
Emery nods apprehensively. "Okay..."
Damon clears his throat. "First and foremost, Emery, you need to tell us when you've reached your limit," he says, eyes darkening. "In the bedroom, remember your safe word and the hand actions. Repeat our word to me."
Emery swallows, her cheeks flushing as she subtly glances at me. I give her a reassuring smile. She has no need to be embarrassed. She enjoys Damon’s style. And I enjoy watching it.
"Comet," she says in a delicate whisper.
"Good," Damon nods, and then it's my turn to speak.
"When we've returned to New York, we'll implement a schedule,” I say. “We've all got busy lives but our relationship trumps all. To ensure that all of our needs are met, it's important not to deviate from the schedule, pending unforeseen circumstances, that is."
Emery frowns, her confusion evident. "A schedule?"
Damon's gaze flicks up at me and I nod. "Mondays and Tuesdays, you'll spend with me, and Wednesdays and Thursdays are with Quinton. Friday and Saturday are your choice, and Sunday…" He hesitates, jaw tightening, "Sundays we're together, all of us."
Emery blinks. "So, I'm basically a child of divorce?" Her brows scrunch together. "I see."
I lift a brow, studying her reaction. "Is that not okay with you?"
She shrugs, trying to mask her true feelings. "No, it's fine."
Damon closes his eyes, exhaling a sigh. "No, Emery. You need to tell us exactly what's on your mind. Remember what we said—communication is key."
It’s interesting to watch the many sides of Emery take their spot in the limelight.
One second, she’s a goddamn vixen, bringing us to our knees.
The next, she’s timid and shy. It’s fascinating, her complexity.
I wonder which side of her is the dominant one.
I’ve seen both. And I can’t say I have a favorite.
She deserves to keep them all. It’s what makes her so fucking special.
Emery fiddles with the hem of her sweater, her tone meek as she confesses. "I... I thought that maybe we'd be together most days."
Damon's features harden, and I know that he hates the idea. He's always enjoyed his personal space, his autonomy, and keeping parts of Alison to himself. But he has to remember that it's Emery who sits before us. And nothing is the same. It can’t be.
I reach for her hand, lacing my fingers through hers.
"Emery, we're not asking you to settle for less, but we must find a balance that works for all of us, equally.
We all have our own lives and our own commitments.
This way, you get the best of both worlds.
Time with each of us individually and moments where we're all together. "
She looks up at me, searching my face for understanding. "I just thought...you know, after everything…we'd be together."
Damon stiffens, hesitating for a moment before he takes Emery’s other hand, cocooning it with his.
“We love you, Emery. Not each other,” he says, and she winces.
Damon tilts his head, picking up on her flaring unease.
I knew this was a bad idea. “Please don’t make that face, Emery.
It’s not a bad thing, it’s not hurting either of us, but we need structure.
And we need boundaries. It doesn't mean we care any less.
If anything, it's to ensure that this relationship doesn't crumble. "
She nods, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I understand. It's just...new, you know?"
Damon exhales, his tense expression softening, but only a fraction. "I know, baby,” he says, “and we’ll be there to guide you the whole time.”
He pauses, shooting me a knowing glance.
No. Is he really going to bring this up as well?
“Damon.” I glare at him. “Not now.”
Emery scowls. “What?”
Damon and I stay quiet, deciding whether or not to give her one final task. A difficult task. She’ll hate it.
She pulls her hands away from ours and crosses her arms. “Didn’t you just give me a whole speech on the importance of honesty and communication?”
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You’re right, darling. We did.” I glance at Damon. “Well? Tell her. Might as well.”
Damon stiffens, his gaze distant. “You need to decide which one of us will be your public face.” Emery opens her mouth, but Damon holds up a finger. “What I mean by that is you need to choose who you will introduce as your…partner.”
Frustration oozes from Emery, but I chime in nonetheless.
“It doesn’t mean anything, Emery. You’re not deciding which one of us you care about more.
It’s simply for the sake of appearances.
This lifestyle… It’s not widely accepted, especially in our circles.
What happens behind closed doors must stay there. We both have a reputation to uphold.”
“You do,” Damon states, his tone flat. “I no longer serve a board.”
Emery blinks. “Wait, what? What are you talking about?” Damon shrugs, and Emery’s eyes widen. She smacks him across the shoulder. “You quit? You actually quit?”
He glowers at her, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes.
“I stepped down. There’s a difference. I still have my stocks.
Granted, they won’t mature for a couple of years.
” He cocks his head. “It was the right thing to do, Emery. Now I can focus on building something for myself. Something that’s mine. ”
She purses her lips. “Yeah? And what do you want to build, Damon?”
Damon’s confidence wavers for a moment. “I’m not sure yet. But I’ll figure it out.”
Emery sighs. “I hope I still have a job when all of this is over.” She raises her hand before Damon can interrupt her. “And no, I won’t be quitting. I’ve told you before, I like to keep my brain busy. Fucking all day doesn’t stimulate that part of me.”
Damon smirks, “Oh, but I think it could. There are many ways for us to make you use your brain.” He glances at me and I grin. “There are lots of games we can play, isn’t that right, Q?”
“So very many games,” I say, tilting my head. “Maybe we’ll teach you some tomorrow.”
“Maybe…” she swallows, skin flushing. A little cough escapes her lungs as she clears her throat, reverting us to our previous subject. I much prefer the current one being discussed. But she’s right. We need to finish what we started. “So, I need to pick one of you, is what you’re saying?”
“Yes,” Damon nods, his shoulders tensing. “And I… I think you should choose Quinton.”
Emery leans forward stunned, and even I’m tempted to drop my jaw. “You what?”
“It’s the most logical choice,” Damon says, though there’s some bitterness in his tone.
“Given that I’m no longer the head of Cavanaugh Industries, I don’t imagine the media will be interested in me anymore.
Not until I decide on my next steps.” He looks at me.
Really looks. Perhaps this is his way of finally calling a truce.
“Quinton will benefit from having you by his side.” He rolls his eyes. “Being the Man of the Year and all.”
I rein in a grin. “I must say, Cavanaugh, not in a million years would I have imagined such rational words leaving your mouth.” I look at Emery, who’s equally as surprised. “But it’s still your choice, darling. Take your time. For now, it doesn’t matter.”
“Okay,” Emery says, reluctantly agreeing to our terms. She stands up and faces us with a combative gleam.
“I’d also like to add a rule. While it may be obvious, I thought I should say it out loud so no one is confused.
” She crosses her arms, sharp gaze flitting between the two of us.
“While we all get a pass for our actions this past week, if either of you ever fuck another woman without my approval, I will cut your balls off. Understood?”
Damon and I grin, exchanging an amused look. “Understood,” we say in unison.
“Great,” she states. “Now, I’m going to go soak in the hot tub. You’re both free to join me.” She tosses us a wily smirk. “And I don’t believe any swimwear was provided for us.”
Just as Emery leaves, my phone vibrates. I show Damon the caller ID, and I answer the call from Agent Ube, our contact at the FBI.
“Yes?”
“We received a tip that Antonia Mancini is on the west coast,” he says. “Our team is working on determining the legitimacy of the claim. Until then, Dr. Marquis, I recommend you stay vigilant. It would…” He pauses. “It would be helpful if we could send a couple of agents to your location.”
“You know we can’t do that, Agent Ube,” I say, Damon nodding in agreement beside me. “We can’t risk a leak.”
“Dr. Marquis, I understand your apprehension given what’s happened, but I assure you, my team is sound. Let us help you. If these women are as dangerous as we think they are, then you need all the protection you can get.”
I shift my gaze to Damon. He shakes his head, signaling for me to stand my ground.
“Dr. Marquis…” Agent Ube probes. “Please consider the gravity of this situation. If for whatever reason Ms. Mancini locates your safe house, you’ll regret not having backup.”
I clench my jaw, my mind floating to the security measures tucked safely away in the nightstand. “We’ll be fine, Agent.”
“Will you? Are you willing to risk Ms. Jones’ life and your life on that?” he asks. “Those are the stakes, Dr. Marquis.”
Damon and I exchange a wary look. We can’t lose her. We can’t risk her being taken away from us again. It’s a double-edged sword. Both paths could lead to destruction. Is there a right choice?
“Fuck,” Damon grumbles under his breath. “Do it.”
I frown at him. “Are you sure?”
Damon sighs. “Better safe than sorry.”
“Fine,” I say to Agent Ube. “We’ll send you the coordinates.”
“That’s a wise decision, Dr. Marquis,” he says. “We’ll send agents out as soon as possible. I’ll call you if there are any more updates.”
“What now?” I ask Damon, hanging up.
He nods toward the steaming outdoor hot tub. “Now we continue to distract her.”