Chapter 9 Tashi
Tashi
I woke with my skin still tingling, memories of the night before playing across my closed eyelids like a private film.
In the shower, steamy water cascaded down my body as I leaned against the cool tile, one hand sliding between my thighs.
I gasped as I remembered Leo’s fingers inside me, how he’d curved them just so while his lips brushed my ear.
I squirted a generous portion of the hotel’s shower gel into my hand and worked it into a lather between my legs. Hot shower water cascaded around me, folding me into a bubble of my desires.
Leo’s heat. Orion’s intensity. Each man was distinctly different, even as they appeared very much alike. The slickness of the soap mingled with the sensation of my fingers stroking me to provide a swirl of escalating pleasure.
“That’s it,” I imagined Leo whispering as I trembled against his hand, not mine. “Come for me, Tashi.”
And, good lord, I wanted to. I was on the edge, but I wanted these delicious sensations to last, so I pulled my hand away just before I couldn’t stop my orgasm. I trembled as the orgasm receded and my body complained with a delicious burn between my legs, urging me to stroke myself once again.
I took a deep breath and recalled how intensely Orion had focused his attention on me with his tongue.
The memory hit me with physical force—how he’d looked up at me with those green eyes before dropping to his knees in one fluid motion.
His hands had gripped my thighs, thumbs pressing into the sensitive hollows with just enough pressure to make me gasp.
I remembered the heat of his breath against my most intimate place, the anticipation making my skin prickle before his mouth even touched me.
And when it did—God—the first sweep of his tongue had been gentle, almost reverent, before he’d grown bolder, hungrier.
My fingers moved in rhythm with the memory, circling and pressing as the shower spray beat down on my shoulders.
I could almost feel the scrape of his stubble against my inner thighs, the way his hands had slid up to grip my hips when my knees started to buckle.
He’d held me steady, relentless in his attention, his tongue finding that perfect spot that made lightning shoot up my spine.
I braced my free hand against the shower wall, legs trembling as I worked myself closer to the edge.
In my mind, I saw Orion again—the way his eyes had never left mine, watching my every reaction, learning my body with the same focused intensity he brought to everything.
He’d tasted me so thoroughly, so completely, drawing out every sensation until I couldn’t tell where pleasure ended, and I began.
My breath came in short, desperate pants now, echoing against the tile as I chased that perfect pressure, that perfect rhythm.
When he’d finally closed his lips around my most sensitive spot and sucked—just so—while sliding two fingers inside me, I’d seen actual stars explode behind my eyelids, my entire body convulsing with pleasure so intense it had bordered on pain.
My fingers now moved more swiftly, pursuing that same release, and asserting the pleasure that was rightfully mine after months of Daniel making me feel invisible. When I came, it was with both their names on my lips as ragged gasps ripped from my lungs.
I hugged the shower wall and willed myself to stand upright as I came down from the explosion that had rocked me. Finally, I drew breath normally, stepped from the shower, still buzzing with the afterglow of pleasure, and barely made it to my bed before spotting my phone on the nightstand.
Feeling bold—reckless, maybe—I grabbed my phone and texted Orion before I could second-guess myself.
Me: Just got out of the shower. Kept thinking about the Grand Canyon. And other things.
I hit send, then immediately wanted to take it back. Too much. Too suggestive. Too—
My phone buzzed.
Orion: Executive meeting in ten minutes.
That was it. No flirtation. There was no acknowledgement of the previous night. Just business.
Fine, I thought through gritted teeth. I could do business.
I selected the first professional attire within reach—a navy dress that fell just above the knee, complemented by nude heels obtained from the gift shop. I tucked my damp hair into a clip and didn’t bother with makeup because I didn’t have time for it.
Yep, I was a mess.
My portfolio was somewhere. Somewhere I’d left it yesterday after the facility tour and Kurt Wilder’s ambush and—
There. On the dining table. It was buried under the marketing projections I had been reviewing before I crashed on my bed.
I gathered everything into my arms—portfolio, laptop, phone, the printed engagement metrics from my Heroes campaign—and rushed for the door.
The elevator. I needed the elevator.
I was halfway down the hall when my laptop slipped. Then the portfolio. Papers exploded across the carpet in a cascade of chaos that perfectly matched my internal state.
“Damn it,” I hissed, dropping to my knees to gather everything.
My phone buzzed. I huffed. It was probably Orion sending another cold, professional reminder about the meeting for which I was now late.
Scooping up papers, I shoved them back into the portfolio without caring about order, grabbed my laptop, and finally made it to the elevator bank. But when I swiped my key card, the panel flashed red.
I tried again. Red.
“Come on,” I muttered, swiping a third time.
Red. Red. Red.
System error messages scrolled across the digital display—codes I didn’t understand. My hands started shaking.
The hallway was empty. Silent except for the distant hum of the casino floors below and my increasingly panicked breathing.
Maybe I’d held it wrong. I tried the card slower this time, carefully lining it up with the reader.
Red.
Had I damaged it somehow? Did I hold it too close to my phone? But it had worked fine last night when Orion walked me back. I tried again. And again. Each red flash made my chest tighter.
I couldn’t go anywhere, because without my key card allowing me access, I was stuck on this floor. Worse, I wouldn’t be able to get back into my room.
My phone buzzed. This time I looked.
Orion: 5 minutes.
With shaking hands, I pulled up Ares’s contact number.
He answered on the first ring. “Tashi?”
“My key card isn’t working. I’m stuck and I’m late and I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“Where are you?”
“Executive floor, by the elevators. I’ve tried like ten times, and it just keeps—”
“Stay there. I’m coming.”
The line went dead.
I stood in the empty hallway clutching my portfolio and laptop, my gut roiling and my heart stuttering. I tried to talk myself down. The key card incident was probably nothing—maybe a demagnetized card or a system glitch. Hotels had electronic hiccups all the time.
Except that the error messages kept scrolling. And my hands kept shaking and my mouth went dry. And somewhere in the back of my brain a voice whispered that nothing about the past week had been normal, so why would this malfunction be?
Two minutes felt like twenty before Ares appeared from the stairwell.
“How long has it been doing this?” he asked, already examining the elevator panel.
“Since I got here. Maybe five minutes? I don’t know, I wasn’t—”
He swiped his own key card. The panel flashed green immediately. The elevator doors whispered open. “Come on,” he said, his hand finding the small of my back. “We’ll take this one down.”
“But my card—”
“We’ll deal with it after.” His jaw was tight. “You’re already late.”
We stepped into the elevator and descended in silence. Ares stared at the panel, his expression unreadable but his posture screaming tension.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“After the meeting.”
The elevator opened onto the conference floor. Ares guided me down the hall with that controlled intensity that made me feel both protected and worried.
He opened the conference room door, and I immediately knew something was wrong.
Orion and Leo stopped talking mid-sentence—the kind of abrupt silence that screamed we were just discussing you. “…can’t all—” Orion had been saying, overlapped with “…this isn’t sustainable—” from Leo.
Then they saw me and Ares, and their faces did that thing where they tried to look normal, but it was too late. I’d heard enough.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said, moving to take a seat. My voice came out steadier than I felt. “Key card issue.”
Ares took the seat next to me. Close. Protective.
“Let’s get started,” Orion said, his tone clipped. His gaze stayed on the tablet in front of him, but the way his thumb kept swiping the edge betrayed tension. “Q4 projections first.”
“—and that brings me to the next phase,” I said, clicking to the final slide. “The My Heroes Tour. A limited event series to leverage the campaign momentum while humanizing the brand even further.”
Leo leaned forward, already intrigued. Ares stilled beside me. Orion scrolled through something on his phone, face unreadable.
“The idea is simple,” I continued, pushing through the silence.
“One weekend, three brothers, three appearances across the Strip. Partner casinos, charity tie-ins, and a social challenge. The first five fans who recognize you in person win comped stays and VIP access to an Olympus Royale suite. Hashtag-driven. Livestream coverage. Think human touch meets legend status.”
Leo gave a low whistle. “You’re talking real-world engagement.”
“Exactly. The My Heroes campaign showed how audiences respond to authenticity. This would make it tangible. It positions Olympus Royale as the luxury brand that isn’t afraid to meet its audience face-to-face.”
I glanced at Orion to gauge his reaction. Nothing. His expression was precise—jaw tight, eyes flicking between his phone and my slides. The light from the screen caught in the curve of his cheekbone, highlighting the distance between us.
“Security nightmare,” Ares said quietly.
I nodded. “That’s why we’d coordinate with your team, pre-vet the venues, and keep the itinerary fluid. Yes, it’s high-risk, but the PR return could be enormous.”
“Could be,” Ares echoed. His tone was measured, but his shoulders had gone rigid.
Leo looked between his brothers, reading the current like he always did.
“We’ll think about it,” he said finally, voice deliberately light. “Run some projections, talk logistics. Maybe scale it smaller first.”
I forced a smile. “Of course.”
Silence followed, the kind that pressed against the skin. Orion’s phone buzzed again, and though he didn’t look at it this time, his fingers tightened around the device. He wasn’t here—not really. Not in the meeting. Not with me.
I wrapped up the presentation with a practiced tone, thanked them for their time, and shut my laptop.
Leo cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Well, that was—uh—great work, Tashi. Let’s revisit the logistics after lunch.”
“Sure,” I said, closing my portfolio. My voice sounded far away.
We finished the meeting. Leo tried to catch my eye multiple times, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t process the sudden shift from intimacy to distance.
The moment it ended, Orion rose. “I have another call,” he said, already halfway to the door. No explanation. No glance my way. Just gone.
Leo sighed softly. “He’s not usually like this.”
Ares didn’t answer. His gaze was still fixed on the door, that same razor line of worry across his face.
“Yeah. I got it. Business,” I lied.
Back in my suite, I dropped everything on the floor and collapsed on the sofa. My hands were shaking again. Not because of the key card failure. It was due to fury, confusion, and the horrible sinking feeling that I had made a catastrophic mistake.
What had I been thinking? Getting involved with my bosses—multiple bosses—like this was some fantasy instead of real life with real consequences.
Orion’s cold professionalism. The way he’d stared through me in that meeting. Leo had said, “We’ll think about it,” instead of backing my idea.
I had misread everything, and the ick stuck to my soul. How many times did I need to glom onto attractive but not-wanting-to-commit men before I learned my lesson?
My phone buzzed with a text from Leo.
Leo: He’s dealing with something. It’s not about you.
Me: Feels like it’s about me.
Leo: It’s complicated. Can we talk?
Me: Later. I need to think.
I set my phone face down and lay on the sofa staring at the ceiling, wondering if I was being paranoid or if my entire life was about to get infinitely more complicated.
After the events of the past five days, how could I survive this?
A stunning realization hit me. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have come here. I was not equipped to deal with men this rich, this domineering—this damnably handsome. It had rattled my head. I had to correct this.