Chapter thirty-one
The Estate, Buckinghamshire
September 2023
Samantha
Sitting at the dressing table in my hotel suite, I watch the second hand on my new Omega tick around the gold face. I hold my wrist to the light and watch the tiny diamonds around the edge twinkle. It’s a stunning piece of jewelry, and I was taken aback when Connor presented it to me earlier today.
The arrangements to celebrate my turning twenty-eight had been complex.
My request to spend the day with both my boyfriends fell on deaf ears.
There had been huge debates over who would get to spend more time with me and, more importantly, whose bed I would be in that night.
Eventually, I devised my own solution with the help of their sister—spend it with neither of them. It hadn’t gone down well.
Last night, I insisted on staying at my own apartment. Mia was surprised to see me, as I’m rarely home anymore. My nights are spent split between the penthouse and floor fifty-seven of The Level. There’s rarely a reason to be in my own bed.
But knowing I needed to choose between them in a matter of weeks, it felt important to get some space. My actions needed to not give either man the wrong idea or make anyone think I had already made a decision. Because I haven’t. Right now, I have no idea who or if I’ll pick anyone.
Earlier today, I agreed to meet Russell and Connor at a small coffee shop in Canary Wharf.
The place is stuck in the 1950s, with wood-paneled walls and cabinets filled with cakes.
The two men looked completely out of place in their designer suits, sitting on red leather-effect chairs surrounded by tradesmen in their boilersuits.
But you get the best carrot cake in town here, and it was my birthday, so they had to do as I requested.
Their Earl Grey tea and Scottish shortbread would have to wait.
With a few days booked off work, Violet and I had plans to go out to celebrate.
At two in the afternoon, I was dressed for a night on the town.
My overnight bag was already packed at my feet for our subsequent hotel night and spa the next day to recover from what, no doubt, would be terrible hangovers.
I was meeting my friend immediately after leaving her brothers.
As I entered, two sets of dark eyes turned to me. They both widened when I smoothed the fitted black bodycon dress I wore. The sun still warmed the air as summer turned toward autumn, but my short denim jacket provided a little extra protection as I made eye contact with them.
Both men stood on my approach. Russell placed his hand on my hip then leaned down to kiss my cheek, and Connor repeated the action on the opposite side.
I smiled at them, loving having them both there with me.
It was a situation I don’t get to enjoy often.
Since our countdown began, their incessant peacocking has become worse.
I feel like a pawn in the center of a game that’s been played for decades to decide which brother is most successful.
Once we were all seated, each of them placed a small box on the table wrapped in oodles of silk ribbon. My eyes moved between the eerily similar items, one in pink and the other black and red. Russell pushed the darker box toward me and signaled for the waitress's attention.
She tottered over in her high heels, her deep red pinafore perfectly in place. Long black hair was piled on top of her head, secured with a huge gold clasp. She smiled broadly, exposing yellowed teeth smattered with tomato-red lipstick.
“What can I get you, boys?” she asked, standing between them and jutting one hip to the side, almost connecting with Russell’s shoulder. Her breasts extended beyond her thin frame as if beacons in the night.
“Do you have any herbal infusions?” Connor said, his usual calm and collected self. I snorted, and my hand shot to my nose in a sad attempt to hide my amusement.
“Infused with what exactly?” the woman responded, the expression on her face highlighting her genuine perplexion.
“Ginger, hibiscus, or verbena, perhaps?” he ventured.
“Sorry, posh boy,” she said with a smile. “I can infuse normal tea with sugar and milk if you like.”
“That will have to do,” he muttered as her attention moved to his older brother, who flashed her a sexy smile. I narrowed my eyes, but he didn’t look at me, so I kicked him under the table, hard. He ignored that too.
“I’ll take the same. Tea with milk and sugar. Any way you like to make it.”
His eyes focused on the pin badge strategically placed on her chest.
“Gloria,” he added. She all but glowed with the use of her name.
“I love a cup of well-made tea. And a woman that can make it is invaluable to a hard-working man.”
“You’ve not done a hard day’s work in your life. Don’t be such a sexist bastard,” I snapped at him, and he turned to me. His face lit up with delight. Fucking Russell knows how to rile me up in more ways than one. “Women were not put on this earth to make your fucking tea.”
“Perhaps not, but it’s a bloody good quality to have.”
“I’ll make your tea any day,” Gloria interrupted, handing him a folded piece of paper I just watched her pull from her bra. “Call me.” She turned and strode off toward the counter, swinging her hips exaggeratedly as she left. Russell handed the paper to Connor without looking at it.
“Here you go, bro, her number. Gloria will suck your dick once Trouble chooses me. Don’t say I never look out for you.”
Connor moved so fast, I didn’t see it happening, nor did Russell. He pulled his brother to his feet, holding him by his pristine shirt collar. Russell being slightly taller meant Connor had to raise himself up a fraction to look in his eye.
“Fuck off,” he hissed, and the two men glared at one another. The café that had been relaxed a moment ago, as people ate their greasy food and sipped cups of hot coffee, fell silent, and all gazes landed on us. Gloria stalked over once again.
“Tell your brothers to behave themselves,” she yapped in my direction.
“Don’t speak to our girl like that,” Russell growled, and the two men glowered at her. She wilted under their stares. My brain misfired as I computed what he called me. “Our girl.” Two small words that meant the world leaving his lips.
“If you have an issue, Gloria,” Connor added, “you shout at us, not our lady.”
Connor’s elevated description of my status didn’t go unnoticed by his brother, who narrowed his eyes but kept his mouth closed for once. I stood and placed a hand on each of their arms.
“Sit,” I said firmly.
“Are they dogs?” Gloria muttered, clearly unable to keep her catty comments at bay. “Will they roll over, too?”
“If I tickle their tummies, possibly.” Her eyes bugged then moved between the men before landing back on my face.
“No, I’m not their sister. And I suggest if you want your café kept in one piece, you don’t aggravate the situation further. Please get our drinks, Gloria. You two, sit down.”
All three adults did as I suggested, and I sat in my chair feeling much more powerful. My men turned to me and beamed.
“You’re hot when you’re in control, Trouble,” Russell said.
“Totally,” Connor agreed. “You shot her down in flames. It really is quite attractive.” He leaned forward and extended a hand, his deft fingers skimming my cheek. “A woman in charge has its benefits.”
“Completely. I mean, it’s nice to be a leader, but when you’re getting told what to do, fuck, it feels good,” Russell announced, and his brother nodded.
They glanced at one another, grinned, and bumped knuckles.
My jaw dropped open in shock at the playful interaction after they nearly wrestled in the center of the café.
“Well, one woman anyway,” Connor said. “And it’s her birthday, so we should focus on that.” Two sets of dark eyes held mine, and my heart skipped.
“Open my present,” Russell prompted, gesturing at the unopened box. Gloria reappeared and placed three mugs of milky tea on the surface. I never even ordered a drink. Obviously, she was too flustered after my revelation of two boyfriends.
As I unwrapped the red ribbon, Connor lifted his mug. His eyes screwed up instantly as the liquid hit his lips, and he slammed it back on the table.
“Don’t bother,” Connor told his brother. “It’s vile, no better than dishwater.” Russell eyed his own tea warily but left it untouched on his brother’s advice. I rolled my eyes at the pair of them.
“Not everything has to cost a fortune to be good,” I said as I stripped back the black paper to reveal a black leather box with the word Rolex embossed across it in gold lettering.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Connor muttered.
My eyes flicked to him then his brother before returning to the box with the brand name I know so well from the high-end shops I walk past.
In years gone by, I would stand peering in the window at a jeweler with my nose almost pressed to the glass, hoping one day the beautiful sparkling items would be mine. I cracked open the lid.
Inside, I found the most stunning ladies' watch I had ever seen.
The bracelet was made of what I thought was steel, and the Roman numerals blinking back were highlighted by diamonds.
But the star of the show was the face; it was the most stunning shade of rose pink that glistened under the light as matching steel hands with a single diamond on the end ticked softly.
“Do you like it?” Russell asked.
“It’s beautiful,” I stammered. He reached for the box and extracted the watch from its red cushion before wrapping it around my bare wrist. “It’s too much.”
“Nothing is too much for you, Trouble. A woman as beautiful as you deserves to be dressed in only the best accessories to heighten her shine.” Russell focused on his brother. “Your turn.”
“You’re an arsehole,” Connor grumbled, pushing his box in my direction.
“That information isn’t new or unexpected. Arsehole is a name I’m comfortable with.” Russell shrugged, sat back in his chair, and crossed his arms as if he had just won a battle.
I bristled, annoyed by his manners. Yes, today, he was being an asshole, and I would be sure to tell him later.
“Sorry, Sam,” Connor said, and I glanced at him, the softer man I’ve come to love appearing.