13. Marla
MARLA
I wake up tangled in sheets that smell like expensive cologne mixed with sex, and panic hits me like a freight train. My body is pleasantly sore and despite my panic, I feel more relaxed than I have in a long time.
For a disorienting moment, I can't remember where I am.
Then everything from last night crashes back in vivid, mortifying detail. The confrontation. The accusations, and my humiliating confession about research for a romance book. And then the sex. Oh God, the sex.
I slept with all three of them. At the same time. My face burns hot even though I'm alone in my bedroom.
Well, not entirely alone. I can hear movement in the other room, the sound of cabinet doors opening and closing, and the quiet murmur of male voices. They're still here!
I sit up slowly, my body aching in places that remind me exactly what happened last night.
The sheets are a tangled mess around me, and I'm completely naked. My clothes are scattered across the floor where they were discarded in the heat of the moment.
What the hell was I thinking?
I wasn't thinking. That's the problem. I let the situation spiral completely out of control, and now I'm dealing with the consequences.
Three wealthy, powerful men who all know each other, who apparently do business together, and I slept with all of them.
Not just individually over the course of three weeks, but together. In one night.
This isn't research anymore.
This is a disaster.
How will I ever face them?
My cheeks burn hot at the thought, and I grab my robe from the hook on the back of my bedroom door and wrap it tightly around myself, tying the belt with shaking fingers.
I take a quick shower even though what I really want to do is let the hot water continue to clean me, to wash away the embarrassment flooding my system.
I need to get them out of here.
I need to establish boundaries and make it clear that last night was a mistake that can't happen again.
But when I step out of my bedroom and into the main living area of the cottage, the scene that greets me stops me in confusion.
I tilt my head to the side, looking at the three men in my kitchen.
Russ is standing at the counter with his back to me, making coffee. He's wearing his jeans from last night but no shirt, and I can see the play of muscles across his shoulders and back as he moves.
He looks completely comfortable, like he's done this a hundred times before. Like he belongs in my space!
Alex sits at my small dining table, fully dressed in dark slacks and a button-down shirt that's only partially buttoned.
He's watching Russ with an expression of calm curiosity, not participating in the coffee-making but observing it with interest.
When I step into the room, his dark eyes shift to me immediately, and something flickers in his gaze that I can't quite read.
Nick stands near the window, looking out at the woods beyond my cottage.
He's also fully dressed in black pants and a dark gray shirt, his posture rigid and controlled.
As I watch, he turns slightly and his green eyes find me, studying my face with an intensity that makes my stomach tighten. Suddenly, the bravado I'd been building slips out of me.
The atmosphere in the cottage is strangely calm. I expected awkwardness, maybe regret, definitely some kind of tension. Instead, the three men move through my space with an ease that's deeply unsettling.
"Coffee?" Russ asks without turning around, like he already knows I'm standing there.
"I can make my own coffee," I say, my voice coming out sharper than I intended.
"Too late." He turns with a mug in his hand, that playful grin on his face. "Already made it. Black?"
I cross the room and take the mug from him, careful not to let our fingers touch. "Thanks."
"Sleep okay?" he asks, and predatory male satisfaction in his tone has heat flooding my cheeks.
"Fine," I say, my voice sounding a bit choked.
Alex makes a sound that might be amusement, but when I glance at him, he's still watching me with that calm, assessing expression. "You're a terrible liar," he observes.
"I'm not lying."
"You are." He leans back in his chair, completely relaxed. "You slept terribly because you're overthinking everything that happened last night."
The accuracy of his statement irritates me. "I'm not overthinking anything."
"You are," Nick says from his position by the window. His voice is quieter than the others, but it carries weight. "You're already regretting it."
I open my mouth to deny it, then close it again. What's the point? They can clearly read me better than I'd like. "I don't regret it," I say carefully. "I just think we need to establish some boundaries moving forward."
"Boundaries," Russ repeats, and he's still grinning. "Like what?"
"Like this can't happen again." I gesture vaguely at the three of them. "Last night was... it was a mistake."
"Didn't feel like a mistake," Russ says, and the heat in his light eyes makes my breath catch.
"It was research that got out of hand," I insist. "I appreciate that you all were understanding about the situation, but I think it's best if we just forget about it and move on."
"Forget about it," Alex says slowly, like he's testing the words. "You want us to pretend last night didn't happen."
"Yes."
"No," all three of them say in unison.
The unified response catches me off guard. I look between them, noticing for the first time how different their dynamic is this morning.
Last night when they first arrived, there was tension between them, a competitive edge that made the air feel charged.
Now that edge is gone, replaced by understanding and coordination. They're not competing with each other anymore. They're working together. The realization sends a chill down my spine.
"Look," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "I don't know what you three think is going to happen here, but I'm not interested in any kind of relationship. That was the whole point of the one-night-stands. No strings, no complications, and no expectations."
"And yet here we are," Nick says. "Complicated."
"Only if we make it complicated," I argue. "If we all just agree to walk away, it doesn't have to be."
Russ sets down his own coffee mug and crosses his arms over his bare chest. "What if we don't want to walk away?"
My heart starts beating faster. "That's not an option."
"Why not?" Alex asks, genuinely curious.
"Because I don't do relationships," I say firmly. "I don't do commitment or expectations or any of that. I can't."
"Can't or won't?" Nick asks.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes."
The single word hangs in the air between us, heavy with implication. I don't know how to respond to that, or how to explain the years of foster care and constant relocation that taught me never to get attached to anything or anyone. They wouldn't understand.
Before I can formulate a response, the fragile peace in the cottage shatters.
All three of their phones start ringing within seconds of each other.
The transformation is instant and terrifying.
One moment they're relaxed and comfortable in my space, and the next they're something else entirely. Something cold and dangerous.
Russ's playful expression vanishes, replaced by hard focus.
Alex's calm curiosity disappears, his body going tense and alert.
Nick's already rigid posture becomes even more controlled, his hand moving to his phone.
It's like watching masks drop, revealing what's underneath. And what's underneath is frightening.
Nick answers first, his voice clipped and professional. "Talk."
I watch as his entire body goes still. Not relaxed-still, but predator-still. The kind of stillness that comes before violence.
Russ and Alex are both on their phones now too, their voices low and controlled as they speak to whoever's on the other end.
I can't make out the words, but I can hear the tone. It's the same tone Nick is using.
Cold, businesslike, and dangerous.
My hands start shaking, and I set down my coffee mug before I drop it.
Nick ends his call first, and when he looks at Russ and Alex, his green eyes are completely devoid of the warmth that was there moments ago. "One of my captains was found beaten nearly to death early this morning," Nick says, his voice flat and emotionless. "He's in critical condition."
These men aren't just a little bit dangerous, I realize with a shudder as they leave my cottage without another word. In fact, they may be even more dangerous than I'd ever thought.