Ties That Bind: Switchblade Romance, #3

By Lady Jaguar and Jayne Lockwood

Richard Mason

Addiction and anger issues are causing the ex-mafioso CEO sleepless nights. Self-control is on a knife-edge, not helped by the return of his sultry ex, Pagan. Only being dominated helps ease his troubled mind.

 

Tino Santini-Mason

Richard's beautiful, cross-dressing husband is slowly falling in love - with Pagan's man. He believes he has a polyamorous solution for both couples to fulfil their desires, IF he can keep Richard under control.

 

Pagan Sandhurst

She's back! This curvy domestic goddess is determined to have it all. Loyal to her family, yet her friendship with Tino brings mischief, mayhem and sexual hijinks.

 

Marcus Sandhurst

Outwardly a stern doctor, Marcus secretly craves Richard's brutal punishments. His love for Pagan and Tino can only end in one mighty crash which will affect them all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hollow Hills Publishing
• Release date: Oct 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798224083756

Lady Jaguar

Lady Jaguar is the pen-name of Jayne Lockwood. She writes hot M/M romance and runs the @ladyjaguarwrites Instagram page for both her and Jayne's books.

Book preview

1

DARKNESS FALLS

RICHARD

Happy Ever Afters don’t happen to guys like you.

The words flickered against Richard’s ear like the tongue of a venomous snake.

He opened his eyes, seeing nothing but thick, velvet darkness, yet he knew someone was in the room. Someone who shouldn’t be there. Had his husband heard it too?

His protective instinct kicked in, forcing him to sit up. As he did so, everything felt wrong. He was on a smooth surface, cold and hard as ice, far away from his soft mattress and warm husband.

He held up his hand in front of his face. It was so dark, he couldn’t even see his own body. Panic began to bubble up inside him. Where the hell was he?

Hello? His voice echoed mockingly back at him.

Silence. All he could hear was his own increasingly panicked breathing. Never had he felt so utterly alone.

This is where it ends.

The sibilant voice again, words curling around him like smoke. Richard flinched away from the sound.

From where I’m sitting, this is a divine ending. The new voice made Richard jump, his heart beating wildly.

A screen in front of him flickered into life, showing the beautiful face of a long-ago lover, Renate Carlotti. Her throat had been ripped open, blood staining her breasts.

The Boss thought you’d appreciate seeing all the people you’ve killed in the past. On the screen, Renate pouted her glossy red lips. He’s so sweet, don’t you think?

What the hell was happening? Richard hated feeling so confused. He was the boss, wasn’t he?

He was CEO of Wolfen Enterprises, a haulage corporation in New York City. He was happily married to Tino Santini, and had a son, Gino, with his old flame, Pagan, whom he still loved. THAT was his reality, not this… hell. Not this lurid reminder of what he had been before he left the gangster life. He wasn’t Franco Giancarlo Mancini anymore. He was Richard Mason; boss, husband, lover, father and car crash waiting to happen…

Another screen appeared, cutting through his thoughts. The interference gradually revealed the horribly disfigured face of Juliana Bianchi, her mouth and dainty nose obliterated by a hideous wet hole.

You murdered our baby. You don’t deserve happiness, you evil bastard, she spluttered, spewing blood and brain matter from her ruined mouth.

No! You raped me, tricked me… Richard’s protests fell unheard from his lips.

Finally, something we all agree on. Rocco Carlotti, Renate’s cuckolded husband, appeared on another screen, his white shirt stained with blood. You really think you can walk away from every shitty thing you’ve done in the past? No, motherfucker! You don’t pass Go. You don’t collect two hundred dollars and you definitely don’t get a Get Out of Jail Free card. Instead, you get to spend eternity with us. Whoop de fuckin…

Shut it, all right? Jeez, you’re giving me a migraine. Vito Bianchi massaged his temples, glaring at them all from another screen.

No, that’s the bullet in your head, dumbass. Just like mine. Tommy, a small-time drug dealer, had appeared on yet another screen. He pointed to his own forehead. Least we went quick, right? Unlike the other guy.

What other guy were they talking about? Richard couldn’t think. He shrank back as the amount of screens increased, showing all the people he had wasted in the past. Low lifes, crooks and scumbags, multiplying like mushrooms in a mound of shit. The stench of blood, bodily fluids and death hung in the air, oozing up his nostrils, sinking down into the depths of his body and turning it black with rot. He gagged at the smell, but nothing came out.

You see? You’re just like us, Renate hissed. You don’t deserve that happy ever after. That was never going to happen. Your cards have been marked since you first began working for Enzo.

Richard desperately scanned the screens, looking for the comforting face of Enzo Carlotti, his former mentor.

Nothing.

Oh, you won’t find him. He sold his soul to the man upstairs, Tony Freemantle bitched, his face smeared with vomit. Thanks for swapping coke for heroin. That was a nice touch. How’s our sister and her in-bred brat?

Another stench assaulted Richard’s nostrils; burning flesh and gasoline. One of the screens began to enlarge, blanking out the others. It showed a desert, with an achingly blue sky. He found himself on a dusty, desolate road in the middle of nowhere, the scorching sun beating down on his face. The road stretched for miles in either direction, empty apart from two crumpled vehicles.

His white Lamborghini had been trashed, the hood crumpled, an ugly dent in the passenger side.

The other car, a grey Buick, had fared worse. It was on its roof, one side completely staved in, both front doors hanging open.

His senses picked up the faint sound of moaning, the sharp tang of gasoline and hot metal hanging in the air. His body ached like a bitch and he was tired. So tired. The scene before him shimmered, almost as if it were a mirage.

He could see himself, standing yet swaying slightly, a few feet away from the Lamborghini. He had been injured, a bloodstain blooming large on the white cotton of his shirt.

Not far from where his image stood, another man hung half out of the Buick, his face grey with pain, a gun in his hand. Greg Roscoe, Pagan’s husband and an avaricious prick who had only married her for money. Now his plans had turned around and bitten him in the ass, leaving him wounded and bleeding, and about to become literal toast.

A trickle of gasoline oozed steadily from the Buick towards mirage Richard’s feet.

He knew what was about to happen. He had replayed it in his head enough times over the past few years. His image drew out the Cartier lighter and flipped it, holding the flame to the cigarette between his lips. After taking a few lungfuls of nicotine, he casually flipped the cigarette into the stream of gasoline, keeping eye contact with Roscoe the whole time.

At first nothing happened, but then the embers sensed the gasoline, igniting it. A tiny flame caught and grew, needing more. It hungrily followed the trail back towards the car, towards the man now struggling to free himself.

As the morning exploded, Richard clamped his fingers to his ears, trying to block out the distant screams, but they were in his head. They would always be in his head…

The maelstrom faded, leaving Greg Roscoe standing right in front of him on the hot, empty road, flesh blackened, eyes fried white. He grinned horribly through burned flesh and seared bone.

Welcome to Hell.

Richard screamed, curling up and clamping his hands over his ears to shut out Roscoe’s mocking laughter.

make it stop make it stop make it stop…

Nothing. He looked up and saw he was utterly alone, locked in a dark box.

No! Anything was better than this!

Please come back, he whimpered. I can’t bear being alone.

Footsteps. A man approached him, his face in shadow. He wore a tailored three-piece suit, diamonds sparkling at his wrists and tie pin.

They’re not coming back. No one is coming for you. A lifetime of deception and depravity equals an eternity in isolation. Welcome to your personal Hell, Richard Mason. He stepped forward so Richard could see his face.

He was looking in a mirror.

Richard jerked awake and sat up, beaded with sweat. He wiped his wet forehead and cursed softly.

Another fucking nightmare. What the hell was wrong with him?

He turned on his bedside light at the lowest setting and took in his surroundings, reassuring himself that he was in his own bed with Tino sleeping peacefully beside him.

Right then, he had never been more grateful. He blinked and looked at his husband again, just to be sure.

Carefully, to not wake Tino, he pulled on his robe and went downstairs. JB Black wasn’t the solution, but he didn’t care. He was shaken, remembering faces he thought he had dismissed for good. What if that was his subconscious, warning him of his final destiny?

Bullshit. Richard didn’t believe in destiny, fate, or anything else. People made their own luck, their own happiness or misery. Ghosts could go fuck themselves.

He poured a generous helping of JB into a crystal tumbler and sat in his favorite chair, near the wood burning stove. Warmth still radiated from the remains of the large oak log he had put in there earlier in the evening. Soft white Christmas tree lights twinkled tastefully in the corner of the room.

He knew how lucky he was. A comfortable house, a happy marriage to a wonderful man, an intelligent, sweet-natured son; those were things he never expected to have. The mob life wasn’t conducive to a stable existence.

Most normal men didn’t have his opportunities either. Pagan and Tino, the loves of his life, had become friends. How the fuck had that happened?

Now, with Pagan’s seriously kinky husband thrown in as a bonus, a beautiful polyamorous relationship hovered, just out of reach. The only problem?

Him.

He sipped the liquor, his thoughts dark and brooding. It always came down to him. His past, his lies, his fucking inability to trust people. Bird, his first lover, said he had a dark spirit, destined to walk alone. The fucker obviously knew something Richard didn’t.

For years, loneliness hadn’t bothered him. In fact, it had been useful. From his abusive father and Pagan’s avaricious first husband, to the woman who had drugged and raped him, Richard had found a way to exact revenge on those who had done him wrong.

Yes, he had wasted them to protect the few people he loved, as well as his own interests. And yes, he had enjoyed the fuck out of it.

It was Pagan walking out of his life for the second time that undid him. The first time, understandable. He had lied to her.

The second time, scarred by an abusive marriage, she had fled from his dark moods and fearsome rages, taking their son with her.

He hated himself for that. Hated that he had frightened her, hated that he had damaged something beautiful, hated himself for not being able to just enjoy the fresh start she had offered to him.

Now it was the same with Tino, who had single-handedly healed the rift with Pagan, giving Richard the opportunity to see his son. He loved Tino with the same fierce passion which burned for Pagan, but their marriage was doomed. Given Richard’s past history, none of his relationships had lasted.

An expensive therapist would say work stress was taking its toll again. Since Vito Bianchi had put Wolfen’s former CEO in a coma, Richard had taken over the role he had left after his last health scare. Tino kept asking him who was going to replace him, but Richard didn’t know. He had been too busy to think about it.

He glanced at the kitchen clock and figured he had time for another three hours sleep before his son burst in and leapt on the bed. It was either that or sit until morning, getting slowly obliterated so he could numb himself from the hurt of their imminent departure.

The Christmas holidays had been something of a miracle. He still didn’t get how Tino had persuaded Pagan and Marcus to visit, considering the radio silence of the last six months.

Not that he had blamed them. Guns, gangsters, and an impromptu kidnapping weren’t good for familial relationships.

Back in bed, sleep remained elusive. He must have dozed off at some point, because he was woken by Gino, patting his face to wake him up.

Richard pulled him onto the bed and Gino settled between him and Tino. They tussled and Gino giggled, before they heard Pagan’s voice saying she hoped he wasn’t being a nuisance.

It was time to face the day and continue the pretense that he wasn’t falling apart.

2

NEW YEAR’S EVE

TINO

Tino checked his face in the men’s store mirror and moved a stray brown hair back in place. People constantly praised him for his smooth Italian good looks and immaculate fashion sense, but he didn’t think he was that special. Being married to a powerful man just meant he had time and money.

His make-up was flawless; understated yet undeniably glamorous under a black New York Yankees baseball cap. He hated any kind of sport, but it provided a good disguise. Tino’s perceived sweet nature was such a contrast to Richard’s fierce temper, that as a couple they were catnip to the gutter press.

His companion that day was an eminent cardiac surgeon, Marcus Sandhurst, husband of Tino’s good friend, Pagan Sandhurst. Pagan was also the mother of Richard’s son, Gino.

Yeah, life could be complicated at times. Boy, was it ever.

Marcus looked through a rack of identical polo shirts, a frown on his lean, handsome face. He had the tall, elegant build of a supermodel but no fashion sense whatsoever.

What do you think? The dark green or the navy blue? Marcus held up two dreary garments.

Tino sighed inwardly. Pagan had tasked him with helping Marcus choose some decent clothes but so far they hadn’t been successful.

Get both if you want to look like a straight-assed English doctor on a dull-assed vacation.

Marcus looked doubtfully at the polo shirts. Really? I thought they’d be useful for the summer.

If you’re serious about wanting my advice, you’re going to have to trust me. Tino steered Marcus out of the Old Navy store and headed with a determined stride towards Bergdorf Goodman.

That night, the Sandhurst family would be celebrating the New Year at Richard and Tino’s colonial house in Califon, before their flight back to England the following afternoon.

Tino had deployed United Nations levels of diplomacy to make sure their visit had run smoothly. On Christmas Day, the wine and conversation seemed to flow easily and Tino’s growing bond with Pagan and Marcus deepened. Richard was on his best behavior, keeping acerbic comments to a minimum, which made Tino think that maybe, they would achieve a drama-free night.

In Bergdorf, the selection of men’s apparel looked more promising.

Now this would be perfect for you. Tino held up a charcoal-grey unstructured coat in a linen weave, perfect for the slightly crumpled professor look Marcus wore with such easy elegance. And this. He grabbed a chunky knit scarf in a tonal color.

Dutifully, Marcus put the coat on. Tino arranged the scarf around his neck and made him look in the mirror.

The coat had deep pockets, narrow lapels, and swept around Marcus’s slim calves. It gave him an edgy vibe which also seemed to suit him.

I like it. Marcus took a picture and texted it to Pagan. Her reply was swift.

Fabulous! Get it. xxx

After buying the coat and a few other items, including linen shirts and casual pants for spring and summer, they went out into the street to find something to eat.

A sliver of vivid blue sky contrasted with the concrete canyons of Mid-town Manhattan, and a keen wind threatened to slice through them as they walked. Tino guided them off the main drag and into one of the side streets to a modest Italian deli, where they sat down at a booth near the back of the attached diner.

As they looked at their menus, a loud noise made Tino flinch. He looked around and saw a family with young children, one of whom was crying as their balloon had just burst. The other child still held theirs in a tight fist.

Since being abducted the summer before, Tino hated any kind of sudden noise, and for some reason, balloons triggered him more than anything. His niece’s last birthday party had been hell.

It’s ghastly, isn’t it? Marcus said, watching him closely. Jumping out of one’s skin every time something like that happens.

You too? Tino felt relieved. Their shared ordeal meant he felt comfortable asking.

Marcus nodded. Fireworks, balloons, even if someone drops a metal tray in the operating theatre. My hands aren’t as steady as they used to be. And I don’t sleep as well. The nightmares come and go. In them, I’m always running from something that I can’t see.

What we went through was horrible. Sometimes… Tino closed his eyes and was instantly transported back to the dirty warehouse, running for freedom and gunshots all around them.

Tino? Are you all right?

I was having a moment. Tino looked past him to where the child was squeezing their balloon, the rubber squeaking under their fingers. Can we move?

Of course. Marcus gathered up their bags, and they made their way further back into the diner. It was nearer the kitchen, but away from that wretched balloon.

It’s stupid but I can’t relax, Tino confessed.

I understand completely. Marcus’s sexy lips curved in a gentle smile which made Tino’s heart melt. Have you told Richard how you feel? Not that it’s any of my business, he added hastily.

What’s the point? I know he’ll say it’s in the past and we should try to forget it. He’s right. Dwelling on something isn’t going to help. I’m trying to move past it.

But you don’t have to do that alone. I’m always here. Marcus covered his hands with his own.

Subtly, Tino moved their hands under the table.

Paparazzi, he whispered.

Where? Marcus looked around him.

Or someone with a phone, taking a picture. I’ve learned to be paranoid. Tino motioned to his baseball cap.

His and Richard’s past marital problems had been well-documented and discussed, mostly erroneously, in the media, and it would only take one person taking a fuzzy picture of Tino holding hands with another man for the whole feeding frenzy to start again.

God, that must be hideous, Marcus murmured. His hand still held Tino’s under the table, stroking him with his thumb.

You get used to it. Tino liked the warmth of Marcus’s hand even though it was dangerous to encourage him. They were both married to other people, whom they loved and respected.

Right then it wasn’t a problem, but further down the line, Tino suspected it could be.

Back at River Place, Tino lit the wood burner and opened a bottle of Giuseppe Quintarelli Cabernet Sauvignon so it could breathe. He knew Richard would appreciate a warm welcome home. He hadn’t been enthralled by the idea of Tino spending the day with Marcus, although he tried to hide his resentment. The others would be joining them later that evening, so there was time to soothe any ruffled feathers before their arrival.

Finally, he checked to ensure the guest rooms were ready, with fresh towels, designer soap and fluffy white robes on wooden hangers. Because Kim, Richard’s valet and housekeeper, lived in the apartment below their own in Manhattan, Tino hadn’t hired anyone to help them in Califon.

Richard was exasperated by his insistence on doing everything himself.

For fuck’s sake, we’re wealthy. Not having staff looks weird, he protested.

But as Tino saw it, he hardly spent every day scrubbing floors. Their laundry was collected and returned back, freshly pressed, every week. He had people to deliver food and wine, someone to keep the yard neat and a cleaner to come in every week when he wasn’t there. They had a maintenance man available 24/7 to solve any irritating problems, from fixing the washer on a leaking faucet to replacing a roof tile, and a pool guy who maintained the swimming pool at the back of the house.

In short, Tino lived in luxury compared to his mother, who still insisted on washing, cooking and cleaning for her family. This was despite Tino’s constant attempts to persuade her to take up his offer of someone to help.

It makes her feel useful. His beloved Nonna Sofia reassured him. Just accept she’ll never change.

Down in the kitchen, he had antipasti prepared on the countertop. After eating, they would be going to a nearby bar, where a blues band were playing.

Unable to resist, he poured a glass of wine and nibbled at a slice of bresaola. As he reached for another slice, Richard grabbed him around the waist and kissed him passionately on the neck.

Tino’s squeak of shock was quickly stifled by Richard’s firm tongue pressing against his own. He held his glass out of the way to avoid getting any on Richard’s suit.

You taste delicious. Richard took the wine from him and tasted it, then leaned down from his considerable height to kiss him again.

Tino sighed in contentment. Richard always looked devastating in his black three piece suit. He rubbed his cheek against the fine wool of his jacket, picking up the delicious top notes of cigars, cedarwood and Creed Aventus cologne which never failed to have a sensual effect on him.

Does someone want to fool around? Richard pressed tiny kisses along his jaw. Further down, he zeroed in on the growing bulge in Tino’s sweatpants, slyly fondling him.

We can’t. They’ll be here for half seven, Tino protested weakly, trying to wiggle away from him.

That’s almost an hour away. Richard lifted him and pressed him against the wall so Tino could wrap his legs around his waist. I can achieve a hell of a lot in half that time.

Tino laughed, lacing his fingers in Richard’s hair. Are you going to tell me that, or show me?

Richard’s eyes gleamed with the prospect of a challenge. He carried Tino into their room and laid him on the bed, standing before him. Their eyes never left each other as Richard loosened his tie and unbuttoned his vest, letting it hang open, then removed his diamond Cartier cufflinks.

Damn, he looked sexy, with those killer cheekbones, intense blue eyes, and brows as dark and elegant as ravens’ wings. He was a damned fine-looking man, lean and toned, his long, slender fingers undoing his shirt buttons to reveal the silky black hair on his chest.

Tino bit his lip, his cock going rock hard as he recalled how it felt to be smeared against the Boardroom table as Richard reamed him into oblivion.

What are you thinking right now? Richard asked, his eyes gleaming with lust.

You’re the epitome of corporate fantasy realness. Come here. Tino reached to unzip Richard’s pants. Greedily he sucked him into his mouth.

Fuck, that feels good. Oh Jesus… Richard steadied himself on Tino’s shoulders as Tino continued to fellate him.

Richard’s cock was long, thick and heavy, as befitting someone of his height. At five six, Tino was a full foot shorter and felt tiny next to him, but he was the one in control, using all his skills to bring his husband almost to his knees. That no-gag party trick had served him well over the years, and no more so than with Richard; first his boss, then his lover, now his husband, and the man Tino loved more than anyone.

Tino… Richard’s fingers tightened in his hair. I need to fuck you. Please!

Tino decided to be kind to him. The sweet taste of precum alerted him to Richard’s delicate hold on self-control.

He took his time, holding Richard’s smoldering gaze as he peeled away his tight tee to reveal perky dark nipples and honeyed skin, before lying back to ease out of his black sweatpants, taking his briefs with them.

Damn it, Tino… Richard kicked Tino’s clothes away and flipped him over onto his front, straddling his thighs as he reached for the lube.

This is going to be hard and fast, he warned.

Not too fast, I hope, Tino purred. He loved it when Richard was rough with him, his slippery fingers now delving between Tino’s ass cheeks. He raised his buttocks to give Richard better access, and caught his breath as he felt him breach his entrance.

Damn, you’re tight, Richard grunted.

Damn, you’re huge, Tino retorted, but his voice shook because it felt so good. A few gentle movements later to slick him up, and Richard pushed in all the way.

Tino didn’t know what was hotter, the feeling of being absolutely stuffed or Richard’s reflection in the mirror, fucking him with maddeningly slow strokes, building his desperation to the point he wanted to scream with frustration.

You said you wanted to fuck me. So fuck me! He thrust back at Richard, making him gasp in surprise.

In response, Richard grabbed his hips and slammed into him, so hard it made his breath catch. This time there was no mercy. He felt control slipping as Richard pounded him. Tino arched his back and took it all. He had lost the ability to speak and was holding on for the ride.

Richard uttered a strangled sound and pulsed, losing control. After a moment he pulled Tino upright and reached for his cock, his teeth sinking into Tino’s neck as he jerked him off. The combination of pain and pleasure sent Tino over the edge and he fell into a void of ecstasy, his hot little cries echoing around the room.

Afterwards, they slumped on the bed, Richard half on top of him, slowly softening and slipping out of him.

Fuck, he muttered. I guess this suit will have to go to the cleaners now.

Hell yeah, Tino giggled. He took Richard’s arm and curled it around his waist. His backside felt sore, but that was a comforting hot feeling he always had after being well and truly reamed.

I have a question though, he asked, after a few minutes of basking in the afterglow.

What’s that? A velvet kiss between his shoulder blades.

How come I’m always the one who ends up naked and you’re still fully dressed?

I’m the one with cum on my pants, so I’m not sure that’s an advantage.

They sighed in mutual satisfaction.

Headlights appeared, turning into the driveway. Tino raised his head and realized it was seven fifteen.

Shit! They’re early. He ran to the bathroom to give himself a lightning-quick wash, before hastily pulling on the clothes strewn around the room.

I’m going for a shower. Richard began undressing.

Don’t be too long.

The doorbell stalled Richard’s response. Tino ran downstairs and, on glancing in the hall mirror, he could see his eye make-up was smudged. It seemed obvious what they had been doing, but they were out of time. He opened the door.

Hi!

Pagan smirked at him, her auburn bob swinging around her feline face. Did you forget we were coming?

Nope. No, no, definitely not. I was … he motioned vaguely to the stairs. You’re early.

And you’ve been fucking your brains out, Pagan whispered so Gino couldn’t hear.

The traffic was lighter than we expected, Marcus said jovially. He was wearing some of the clothes Tino had helped him choose, and they looked good on him.

Tino ushered them into the house and shut the door. Gino immediately wrapped his arms around Tino’s waist, then ran off to find Richard.

That leather jacket looks great on him, Tino remarked. And look at you, girl! Cute as hell. He admired Pagan’s short red jersey dress which clung to her curves. She had teamed it with knee-high black patent boots and a choker necklace made from black crystals.

Thanks! Her green eyes sparkled. I’m guessing you’re not wearing that. She motioned to his sweatpants.

He glanced down to see an accusing stain on one leg.

I’m just… Aaargh! I’ll be right back, he yelled as he leapt up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Richard emerged from the bathroom as Tino tore off his sweatpants.

Round two? He arched a disbelieving brow. He had changed into tight black jeans and a snug black singlet, topping it with a Gaultier black leather biker jacket. With his black hair worn longer than before and a hint of eyeliner, he looked sensational.

Gino burst into the room and ran to Richard, throwing himself at him. Found you!

They looked like carbon copies, and unmistakably father and son. Tino knew without doubt, Richard had done it on purpose. If his intention was to send an unsubtle message to Marcus, he was about to receive it, loud and clear.

For the first time, Tino began to feel apprehensive about the evening ahead.

3

TINY FISSURES

PAGAN

She felt truly blessed by her friendship with Tino, although on paper, it shouldn’t have worked. After all, she was Richard’s ex, whom he still loved. Tino was her glamorous, beautiful replacement, and it was increasingly obvious that Marcus was enamored by him as well. Tino’s previous feelings of insecurity had been matched by her own before they met, but as soon as they spent time together, a miracle had occurred, and they had become close friends.

Now, she really felt sorry for him. Despite his excellent hosting skills, it was clear he was trying to paper over the cracks appearing in their carefully constructed façade.

Discreetly, she observed Richard. Yes, he was still dangerously attractive, but he seemed jittery, as if he had consumed too much coffee. She guessed he was pretending, like they all were, but he sucked at it. He could never hide his feelings, despite presenting himself as a cold, hard bastard. Out of the four of them, he was the