Alec
I was in her bathroom, emptying toiletries into a box, when a flash of hot-pink lace caught my eye in the laundry basket.
I didn’t hesitate.
I set the box down on the toilet seat and pulled the lace free, the fabric still warm from the rest of her clothes. I brought it up and inhaled once—deep, deliberate.
Yeah.
That was her.
Not perfume. Not soap. Beneath it was the unmistakable scent of cunt, faint but ingrained, soaked into the lace like it belonged there. Like she did.
“Do you two want some alone time,” Rowan said from the doorway, dry and unimpressed, “or should I pack all her shit up on my own?”
He was probably jealous.
I folded the knickers once and shoved them into my pocket.
“No,” I said, not looking up as I tipped the last bottles into the box. “We’re fine. Thanks for asking.”
When I glanced at him, he was already going through her laundry basket.
I needed to get her to the clinic.
The sooner we broke her in, the better.
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Nothing in the house had changed, except that I cooked more.
Nick could cook. Rowan never did. I cooked because I enjoyed it—the precision of measuring, the discipline of technique, the importance of quality ingredients. Ordering in or hiring help was out of the question, and Nick’s version of food was unhealthy and careless.
Ella stayed in her room, like a rabbit surrounded by wolves.
She wasn’t wrong.
That was why I was waiting for her when her shift ended. We needed results. That was the only way she’d integrate with us. Rowan had been unusually generous, giving her time—but I couldn’t see the point of restraint.
Yes, I saw the appeal.
But hesitation was inefficient.
She spotted me leaning against the car and looked away as she approached.
“Taxi service,” I said evenly. “We’re taking a detour. Rowan wants to make sure you’re not diseased.”
Her fingers tightened on the strap of the bulky bag slung over her shoulder. Whatever ran through her head, she kept it there.
Rowan wanted her broken down. What I wasn’t sure of was whether he truly understood what kind of cage she’d been living in already.
The drive passed in silence, which suited me. She wouldn’t like what I had to say—and now wasn’t my time.
I stayed close while the tests were done. Waited outside the toilets while she provided a urine sample.
Rowan had already confirmed she was on birth control. I’d taken possession of the pills. She’d be swallowing one every morning in front of me.
Pregnancy was a complication.
And it would interfere with the things I intended to do to her.
It wasn’t until I parked outside the house that she finally spoke.
“Why do you all live in one house?”
I cut the engine and turned to face her.
“Why not?” I drawled. “Families live together, don’t they?”
“You're all related?” she asked sceptically.
“By life, not blood,” I said cryptically before stepping out of the car.
I watched her get out of the car and walk toward the house before following her inside. It made me wonder what she did once she was alone in our bedroom. How she moved. Where she stood. What she touched.
It also gave me an idea.
There was no reason we needed to miss Rowan’s first time with her.
By the time I unlocked the door and stepped inside, I was already mapping out camera placement in my head—angles, blind spots, coverage. She only had a few days left at work.
Plenty of time.
I sent a message to Rowan and Nick in the group chat.
Their replies were exactly what I expected.
Rowan sent a thumbs-up emoji.
Nick replied with a middle finger.
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The following evening, we had live footage of Ella in Rowan’s office. After planning everything the night before, all I’d had to do was wait for my express delivery and install the hardware while she was at work.
I spent the early part of the evening in my office, then headed to Dominion once Nick messaged to say he was picking her up.
It was almost funny that she thought locking the door would keep us out. She’d learn otherwise.
On the screen, she set her bag down on the bed and kicked off her shoes—flat, sensible things that suited her job. Comfortable. Practical.
We’d catalogued the rest while clearing out her apartment. Heeled boots. Shoes. Sandals. Most of her clothes were modest. Simple. Unassuming.
It made me wonder how she’d adapt. And what I could do to make the transition smoother.
Now that Ella was inside our space, the potential was obvious—if she proved viable mid- to long-term.
Nick’s irritation would settle eventually.
Nothing ever fit perfectly at the start.
She began unbuttoning her tunic.
The office door opened, but none of us looked away from the screen.
“You’re like two peeping Toms,” Nick said with a quiet chuckle as he joined us.
“Three now,” Rowan replied, just as the tunic slipped free.
“Damn,” I murmured.
No—she wasn’t skinny. Ella was built with an abundance of curves, all of them exactly where they should be.
“All the test results will be back tomorrow,” Rowan said, shifting in his chair. “So far, everything’s clean. Alec’s administering her birth control.”
Nick grunted, but said nothing.
I glanced at him. His eyes were fixed on the screen.
The interest was there.
I knew exactly how to push him over the edge.
I smiled to myself, satisfied with how smoothly Ella’s integration was progressing.