46. Tatum
Chapter 46
Tatum
I open my door, my muscles still aching from yesterday's ordeal, and nearly collide with a solid wall of muscle. Isaac jolts upright in the hallway chair, his tattoo catching the morning light. His eyes snap open, instantly alert despite the dark circles underneath them.
"Jesus Christ, did you sleep out here?" I steady myself against the doorframe.
"Someone had to make sure you were okay." He stretches, his joints popping. "You shouldn't be up yet."
"I'm fine, just starving." My stomach growls on cue. "Haven't eaten since... well, you know."
"Sit down before you fall down." He stands, towering over me. "I'll make you breakfast."
"You cook?" I raise an eyebrow.
"I can manage," He pauses. "Maybe. Probably safer if Dom does it though."
"I can walk downstairs myself-"
Before I can finish protesting, he scoops me up like I weigh nothing. The movement sends a twinge through my bruised ribs, but his grip is gentle.
"Humor me," he says. "After yesterday, you're not walking anywhere alone for a while."
"My knight in shining tactical gear?" I rest my head against his shoulder.
"More like your temporarily assigned security detail." He starts down the stairs, his movements careful. "Though I make these sweatpants look damn good."
"Can't argue with that." I say, feeling oddly safe despite everything.
Isaac carries me into the kitchen where Dom is looking through some papers and Connor's typing furiously on his laptop. Both their heads snap up as we enter.
"What the hell?" Connor pushes back from the table. "You shouldn't be up."
"She was trying to sneak downstairs by herself," Isaac explains, setting me gently in a chair.
Dom abandons his papers, coming over to examine the bruise blooming across my cheekbone. "How's the pain?"
"I'm fine." I wave them all away. "Just some bruises. Nothing worse than that time I tried kickboxing at the gym."
"This isn't a joke," Connor says, his jaw tight. "Those guys could have-"
"But they didn't." I cut him off. "Thanks to you three. Now can we please focus on more important things? Like feeding me?"
Twenty minutes later, Dom slides a plate in front of me with what I assume are meant to be pancakes. They're misshapen blobs, some burnt around the edges, others still gooey in the middle.
"They taste better than they look," Dom defends, crossing his muscular arms.
Connor sets down a plate of slightly charred toast. "At least I didn't set off the smoke alarm."
"Small victories." I smile as Issac places a steaming mug of coffee in front of me. The rich aroma makes my mouth water. "Now this, this I can work with."
"French roast," Issac says, taking the seat next to me. "None of that fancy vanilla shit."
I take a sip and nearly moan. "God, I've missed real coffee."
I cut into one of the less threatening-looking pancakes. "You know, these aren't half bad. Just... uniquely shaped."
"Uniquely shaped?" Connor snorts. "They look like a fucking toddler made them."
"Better than your toast," Dom shoots back. "Did you forget bread burns?"
"At least toast is supposed to be brown," Connor retorts. "Pancakes aren't supposed to be black."
I can't help but laugh. Here I am, eating the world's ugliest breakfast with three dangerous men who are bickering like brothers. The whole situation is absurd.
"What's so funny?" Issac asks, his green eyes curious.
"Nothing," I say, taking another bite. "Just thinking how this beats the hell out of protein shakes and kale smoothies."
"It certainly isn't a Tatum breakfast, but it'll do the job," Issac says behind a mouth full of toast.
I push my half-eaten pancakes around, my appetite suddenly gone. "So what happens with Thomas now?"
Connor's fingers stop typing, and he exchanges glances with Dom and Issac. Dom leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.
"One of our guys took him back to your house last night," Dom says. "Had a... conversation with him about keeping his mouth shut."
"A conversation?" I raise an eyebrow.
"Let's just say he was very persuasive," Isaac adds, his accent thickening. "Left some evidence around the house too. Won't be long before the cops show up asking questions about your disappearance."
"What kind of evidence?"
"Blood splatter in the office," Connor says, closing his laptop. "Your torn clothing, signs of struggle. The kind of things that make cops look real hard at a husband when his wife goes missing."
"And Thomas's alibi for the morning I disappeared is shit," I say, understanding dawning.
"Exactly." Dom nods. "Add in the ransom video where he failed to contact authorities, plus his suspicious behavior since you've been gone..."
"They'll nail his ass to the wall," Isaac concludes, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips.
I drum my fingers on the table, processing. "And me?"
"Officially?" Connor says. "You'll be presumed dead. Missing person case turned homicide. Thomas goes down for it."
I twist my coffee mug between my palms, the warmth seeping into my bruised knuckles. "What about my parents?"
Connor's eyes meet mine over his laptop. "Well, we contacted your brother James."
"You what?" The mug slips, coffee sloshing. "He must be freaking out-"
"He's fine," Dom cuts in. "Actually helped us dig up some interesting stuff on your parents."
Issac slides a folder across the table. "Turns out daddy dearest wasn't just selling you off - he's been running quite the operation."
My hands shake as I flip through the pages. Bank statements. Offshore accounts. Emails. "Money laundering?"
"Among other things," Connor says. "Your brother's really good with computers. Found a trail linking your father to at least six other arranged marriages. All to politicians or businessmen with questionable ethics."
"He was selling girls?" My stomach turns. The pancakes suddenly feel like lead.
"More like facilitating 'strategic alliances,'" Dom's voice drips with disgust. "Your mother handled the social connections, your father managed the finances. They've been doing it for years."
"James found enough evidence to put them away for a long time," Isaac adds. "Federal prosecutors are already building a case."
I push the folder away, unable to look at it anymore. "Good. That's what they deserve."
"You sure? This is a lot… all at once." Dom says, genuine concern in his eyes.
"Never been more positive. Karma is a bitch." I say with a forced grin, ready to table this conversation to one of more importance to me.
I push my coffee mug away and turn to Connor. "What was that about news you mentioned yesterday?"
Connor shakes his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes. "Later. When you're feeling better-"
"No." My palm slaps against the table. "Life's too damn short for later. I just spent twenty-four hours thinking I was going to die. I need to know now."
"We wanted to make it more... special," Dom says, exchanging glances with the others.
"Special?" I bark out a laugh. "I'm sitting here in borrowed sweats, eating burnt pancakes, covered in bruises. My parents are criminals, and I'm officially dead. What could possibly need to be more special?"
Isaac reaches for my hand but I pull away. "Don't coddle me. Just tell me what's going on."
"She's got a point," Connor says to the others. "No time like the present."
"I don't give a shit about the perfect moment or whatever you're planning." My voice cracks. "I just need something real. Please."
Dom leans forward, his expression serious. "You're right. You deserve to know."
"Then spill it." I cross my arms, "what's so important that you're all dancing around it?"
Dom's intense gaze meets mine across the table. "We need to tell you something important. All of us do."
"What is it?" My heart pounds against my bruised ribs.
Connor runs a hand through his dark hair. "This isn't just about protecting you anymore."
"Or taking down Thomas," Isaac adds, his accent thicker than usual.
"Then what is it about?" I grip my coffee mug tighter.
"It's about how we feel," Dom says. "About you."
My breath catches. "What do you mean?"
"We care about you, Tatum," Connor says softly. "More than we should."
"And not just because you're good at making breakfast or cleaning up after our messes." Issac emphasizes.
"Or because you're brave enough to stand up to mobsters," Dom adds.
"Or because you look incredible in those damn yoga pants," Connor smirks, breaking the tension.
I let out a shaky laugh. "You're serious?"
"Dead serious," Dom says. "These past weeks, watching you come alive again, seeing who you really are beneath all Thomas's bullshit..."
"We've all fallen for you," Isaac finishes. "Hard."
"But..." I look between them, confused. "All of you?"
"All of us," Connor confirms.
My mouth goes dry as I process their words.
"But I..." I clear my throat. "I've already been with each of you..."
"We know," Connor says, his lip ring catching the light as he smirks. "We kind of already figured that one out."
"And you're not mad? None of you mind?" I look between them, searching their faces.
Dom leans back in his chair, exuding that quiet confidence that makes my knees weak. "We've shared everything else for years. Why would this be different?"
"Because I'm not a thing to be shared," I snap, my old fire returning.
"No," Isaac agrees, his accent thickening. "You're a woman who deserves to be cherished. By all of us."
"Each in our own way," Connor adds, his brown eyes intense. "Dom's the protector, Isaac's the warrior, and I'm-"
"The smartass?" I suggest, earning a laugh.
"The strategist," he corrects, but his eyes dance with amusement.
"So if I want all three?" The words slip out before I can stop them.
Dom's eyes darken. "Then you get all three."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that," Isaac confirms. "If you're willing."
I bite my lip, considering. "And if it doesn't work?"
"Then we figure it out," Connor says simply. "Together."
My throat tightens as I look between the three men who've turned my world upside down. Dom's quiet strength, Isaac's fierce loyalty, Connor's sharp intelligence. All so different, yet all wanting me. All willing to share.
"I never thought I'd say this, but you three are the best thing that's happened to me."
"Even better than that cheeseburger Isaac brought you?" Connor's lip ring glints as he smirks.
"Maybe tied with the cheeseburger." I grab Dom's mangled pancake, needing something to do with my hands. "Look, I know this isn't exactly the white picket fence and golden retriever life I dreamed about as a kid."
"We could get you a dog," Dom offers, his dark eyes serious. "Though maybe something more intimidating than a retriever. Ever heard of a Cane Corso?"
"Yeah, we can't keep our street cred if we have a golden doodle Tate…" Connor says.
"That's not-" I shake my head, laughing. "What I mean is, you three have made me feel more wanted and protected in these few weeks than my entire marriage."
Isaac reaches across the table, his calloused fingers brushing mine. "Because we see you. The real you."
"The one who dreams of putting laxatives in people's food," Connor adds.
"The one who plants surveillance equipment while giving blow jobs," Dom says.
"The one who makes bomb ass breakfast for mobsters," Issac finishes.
"Yeah, well." I squeeze Isaac's hand. "If you'll have me - all of you - I'm yours. No more pretending to be someone I'm not."
"Good." Dom's voice drops lower. "Because we don't want the perfect wife."
"We want you," Connor says.
"Though maybe less getting kidnapped in the future," Isaac adds, his accent thick with emotion.
I look at each of them - my protectors, my lovers, my future. "Deal."