Chapter Five
Fallon
My cheeks ache, a dull, happy soreness settling into my face from smiling too damn much.
I don’t think I’ve had this much fun in years.
Maybe ever. The reception had been a whirlwind of laughter, dancing, and stolen glances, the kind of night that felt too perfect to be real.
I danced with each of my husbands—more than once.
Kingston moved with effortless confidence, guiding me like he was made for it like I was made for him.
Voss held me just a little too close, his smirk full of unspoken promises, his touch teasing but firm.
Jace was all smooth precision, his large hands steadying me, keeping me grounded even as my head spun.
Romano was Chaotic. Unhinged. Absolutely delightful.
He had zero regard for rhythm, making me laugh until I almost tripped over my feet as he spun me around more than we danced.
At one point, I even waltzed with Odette, the two of us spinning dramatically across the floor like we were in some historical romance movie.
Violet and I tangoed.
And when I say tangoed, I mean we full-on committed, complete with dramatic dips, exaggerated expressions, and a final pose that left the guests in stitches.
Thanks, Mom, for forcing me into dance lessons as a kid.
Between the dancing, the pictures, and the introductions, I’d met a dozen of their business associates. They were all nice enough, polite, and refined, but none of them made quite the impression that Marco and his wife did.
Marco had been charming in a way that felt effortless, but it was Savy who stole the show. Savy was hilarious. Loud, opinionated, full of sharp wit and energy, the kind of woman who took up space in the best way possible. I liked her immediately.
Romano’s fingers are threaded firmly through mine, his grip warm and solid, while Kingston’s palm rests against my lower back, the pressure grounding, possessive.
As we step out of the venue, the cold air bites at my exposed skin, but the warmth radiating from my husbands is enough to keep me steady. My husbands. Mine.
Outside, guests are still mingling, their laughter drifting through the crisp night air, clouds of breath curling into the dark.
Everything seems soft, hazy, like a dream I don’t want to wake from.
And then—
Chaos.
Because suddenly, glitter is raining down on us.
Lots of it.
I squeal, the high-pitched sound escaping before I can stop it, and without thinking, I grab Romano’s arm and make a run for it.
“Come on!” I shriek, dragging him with me as I dart forward to outrun the absolute disaster falling from the sky. “Hurry, or it’ll take a thousand years to get it all off!” Romano’s laughter rings out, bright and full, his grip tightening in mine as he stumbles after me.
Behind us, I can hear Jace’s deep, rolling chuckle, Voss’s unrestrained amusement, and Kingston’s smooth, knowing laugh.
They don’t run. They don’t have to. Because I know, somehow, I’ll be the one suffering the consequences of this.
By the time we reach the SUV, I’m breathless, glitter-dusted, and entirely too giddy.
We climbed in quickly, Romano practically pulling me onto his lap as the others filed in behind us. The interior is warm, and the scent of leather and something unmistakably alpha is wrapping around me.
The driver and another security guy sit up front, their presence a silent reminder that I’ve just married into something much bigger than myself.
Kingston leans forward, murmuring something too low for me to catch, his voice calm, absolute.
The driver nods once, adjusting the wheel.
Then Kingston presses a button. A divider slides up, sealing us into a private, enclosed space.
I sigh happily, my chest warm, my body still thrumming with the aftershocks of the night.
I take a moment to look at each of them, letting the reality of this settle into my bones.
Kingston smiles at me, and it’s not the sharp, commanding grin he wore speaking to the guests. This one is soft, genuine—his eyes crinkling at the corners, warmth radiating from him like the steady burn of a fireplace on a cold night.
Jace sits beside him, watching me with an expression I can’t quite place—gentle, thoughtful, maybe even reverent. His hard edges seem to ease, just for a moment, and the sight of it sends a strange flutter through my chest.
Voss’ gaze is different. His brown eyes flash with something unreadable, something dark and knowing. But then his lips twitch as if he’s forcing back a smirk.
I’m starting to learn that Romano is a golden retriever trapped in the body of a man—a chaotic, reckless ball of energy, too big for the space he takes up but impossible to look away from. He proves it a second later when he throws an arm around me, pulling me into his warmth without hesitation.
I laugh, snuggling into him, my smile still stretched wide. “Thank you,” I murmur, looking at each of them again, meaning every word. “All of you. Thank you for making our wedding such a magical experience. I know this isn’t real, but… thank you.”
The shift is instant. I feel Romano tense, his body going unnaturally still, his usual lightheartedness pausing for a beat.
Then, from across the space, Voss chuckles. The sound is low, dark, rich—coiling around me like a slow-moving predator. A shiver rolls down my spine. “Oh, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice pure sin, “we never said this would be fake.”
I barely have time to process that before Jace speaks. I've noticed that he doesn’t talk much.
“We needed a wife, yes,” he says, his voice gravelly, firm, absolute. “but we chose you. So don’t think for a minute this isn’t going to be a real marriage. We are very much looking forward to the wedding night.”
Heat floods my face, my pulse stuttering.
Kingston chuckles, a deep and indulgent sound amused by my reaction. “That’s if you want it,” he adds smoothly. “We would never force you or make you think you have no choice. We, however, never plan to be married again, so we would like to be your husbands for real.”
I blink at him, tilting my head slightly.
“Why wouldn’t I want that? This is my future, and as long as you’ll have me, I’m yours.
” The question leaves me before I can stop it, and the moment the words are out, I feel it.
A low, vibrating rumble against my back.
It takes me a second to realize what it is.
I tilt my head up, eyes widening as I find Romano staring down at me, his brown eyes warm and dark, half-lidded behind his glasses.
He’s purring.
For me.
My breath catches, and without thinking, I reach up, gently pushing his glasses back into place with my fingertips. His lids lower further, his voice barely more than a murmur. “You’d like that with us?”
I let out a soft laugh, my heart hammering against my ribs. “I mean… you are my husbands. I don’t plan on having any others.”
The second the words leave me, a sound rumbles through the SUV. A growl. Multiple growls. I startle slightly, eyes darting between them, realizing that Kingston, Voss, Jace, and Romano are growling. Possessive. Raw.
Oh.
A laugh bubbles up in my throat, trying to ease the tension.
“And you’re all very nice to look at.” The moment I say it, Romano moves.
His lips crash down onto mine, stealing my breath, taking, devouring.
This kiss is nothing like the one at the wedding.
That one had been sweet, teasing. This is a conquest.
His mouth moves against mine with heat and desperation, tasting champagne and something smoky, something entirely him. His hands tighten at my waist, pulling me closer, deeper, more.
By the time he pulls away, my lips are swollen and tingling, and my breath is coming in shallow gasps.
I try to chase him, already missing the heat of his mouth, but he chuckles, pulling back, his voice thick with amusement.
“You smell so good, Little Love.”
The words take a second to register. Then I freeze.
I scan the space, looking at the others—the way Kingston’s eyes darken, the way Jace shifts like he’s holding himself back, the way Voss tilts his head, assessing me with a smirk.
I’m perfuming. I inhaled sharply, pressing a hand to my mouth, mortified. “I’m sorry!” I squeak.
Voss chuckles again, deep, wicked, teasing, his teeth flashing in the low light. “Never apologize, Princess,” he murmurs, voice like a velvet threat. “It’s a sign of weakness.”
I arch a brow, laughing despite the warmth still curling low in my belly. “Is that a rule?”
His smirk widens, something feral and devastating, making him look even more dangerously handsome. “It is now.”
The SUV hums beneath us, the inside so quiet I swear I can hear my own heartbeat trying to make a run for it.
Which is rude, considering the rest of me is melting into a puddle.
Romano is still purring, and my traitorous, easily seduced omega instincts have decided that I now have the spine of a wet noodle.
I shift slightly, trying to sit up straighter to regain even an ounce of my dignity, but Romano tightens his hold on me, rubbing slow circles into my hip like I’m some precious, breakable thing.
Which is probably why my brain short-circuits when the car slows, the sound of muffled voices coming from outside.
Before I can overthink it, the SUV pulls forward again, and then—Holy shit.
I gape out the window, taking in the monstrosity of a house coming into view.
Or should I say, mini-mansion because these men live in something straight out of a high-end architectural magazine, all clean lines, modern stonework, and towering glass windows that cost more than my entire existence.
It should feel cold, detached, like something a Bond villain would lounge around in—but somehow, it doesn’t.