Chapter 3

Rose

The reception is still not showing any signs of winding down when I break away, hoping my absence wouldn’t be noticed by Bonnie.

I’ve already dismissed Greg, taking a raincheck on our planned after-party activities. He’d only smiled, as if he knew I was going to spend the rest of the evening with Ryan. Or perhaps that was just my imagination.

I step out of the elevator onto the thirteenth floor, my heart pounding harder with every step.

“Okay, calm down, Rose,” I mutter to myself, wiping my slick palms on my dress. “You’ve done this before.”

Actually, I haven’t. I’m usually the one who calls the shots and waits for men to show up, not the other way around. That must be why I’m so nervous. I hate not being in control. It feels like everything in me is unraveling and spiraling out.

I take a deep breath. In. Get him out of your system. Out. Stop obsessing.

I stand at the door and hesitate again.

This is such a bad idea.

My fist rises of its own accord and knocks on the door with a confidence I don’t feel.

“It’s open,” I hear a voice call out from the small square vent near the door. A female voice.

What the hell? I look up to check the room number again — 1320.

“I’m looking for Ryan,” I answer, feeling all kinds of stupid.

Maybe I got the room number wrong? I’m about to reach for my phone to call Ryan when the guy’s baritone comes through.

“Come on in, Rose.”

I freeze. He’s in there.

Dear God. That woman in there had better be Room Service.

Did I interrupt something? He told me one hour. Did that mean he had someone else scheduled before me?

Is he just finishing up with her?

Oh hell no. What sort of things is this guy into? Steeple chases?

Suddenly, I want to run.

But I’m too curious at this point not to depress the handle, push the door open and step inside.

It’s a luxurious hotel room, as I’ve come to expect of any piece of real estate belonging to Xavier, my friend’s husband.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see that the room’s thick curtains are drawn, and it is furnished in deep rich browns and velvets. Dimmed golden lights peek from recesses in the walls and ceilings. A huge four poster bed that screams of decadence dominates the center.

I take my time looking around, because it’s easier than dealing with the scene playing out before me.

There’s a dark-haired woman kneeling on the floor with her head bowed. She’s naked.

My gaze finally comes to rest on Ryan. He’s sprawled over the plush chaise by the wall, his shirt fully open to reveal tanned skin and abs I might be tempted to go over and run my hands all over if I wasn’t so shocked.

He’s on the phone, speaking in low tones, and appears to be giving the person on the line some stern instructions. A glass of dark liquid hangs carelessly in his other hand.

I notice how the bulge in his pants grow the more I stare, until it tents his pants obscenely.

Oh dear. He likes this. He’s into threesomes. Fucking kinky bastard.

I’m not a blushing virgin, but I prefer my men one at a time, thank you very much. I want all of my partner’s attention focused on pleasuring me, and only me.

I take another discreet glance around. Could there be even more women or men lurking around? Any more surprises here today?

I finally glance at the woman on the floor and then back to Ryan, a wordless question in my eyes.

Ryan finishes the call and with an impatient flick, tosses the phone to the side.

“Come here, Rose.”

Say what? “You have got to be kidding me. What the fuck is this, Ryan?” I wave my hand back and forth between him and the woman on the floor.

“Ask her to leave if you don’t want her here, although I’d very much prefer if she stayed,” his voice is thick with arousal.

My mouth opens, and a million questions pop into my mind. “As what? A spectator? A chaperone?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a playful smirk. “It’s really not a big deal, Rose. I won’t touch her if you don’t want me to.”

If anything, that sounds even more annoying. “How very charitable of you,” I spit. I can’t believe this guy.

Ryan is silent for a beat, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Then his tone hardens. “Alright. He addresses the woman. “Cathy, you may leave.” Cathy nods quickly, but sends Ryan a look I can only interpret as utter longing, then she scrambles to her feet to do his bidding. I ball my hands into fists as the reality of what is happening dawns on me.

So Ryan is a dom. The woman is a sub. And what the fuck does that make me?

The village idiot? The snarky voice in my head suggests, and unfortunately, I have to agree with her.

“Hey,” I say to the woman. She turns but doesn’t look at me. She’s a good few inches taller than me yet adopts a subservient role for me.

A general sub? Is that even a thing? Okay, I’ve seen enough. I need to get the hell out of here.

“I think you’d better stay and…continue whatever it is you two had going before I interrupted.” I cock my head in Ryan’s direction.

Cathy looks conflicted, her gaze flitting toward Ryan and back to me. She badly wants to stay. Good, which is why I should let them carry on their party.

“This was a mistake.” I spin on my heels. “Excuse me.”

“Rose.”

I stop. There’s a wealth of need, of authority in that one word that makes my nipples bead beneath the tape I wore to keep them invisible under the gauzy material. I want nothing more than to turn and crawl to Ryan.

The thought alone is enough to shake me out of my sensual haze and I bolt out of the room and toward the bank of elevators like the horde of hell is at my heels.

It’s not until the doors close in on me before I finally allow myself to release the huge breath I hadn’t realized I was holding in.

My heart is still pounding, my face aflame. And I’m supposed to return to the party and act like nothing happened?

I pass by a small seating area facing a window and wearily drop into one of the modular chairs to gather my wits.

That man is such a jerk. Could he not have asked about my preferences instead of shocking me like that?

But if I’m being honest, the most confusing part was how badly I wanted to stay and do whatever he wanted.

I wasn’t interested in a threesome. I wanted the man all to myself. But if that was what Ryan needed from me, watching as he sat back on that opulent couch like a king, watching his erection thicken in his tan pants the moment I stepped into the room, I was willing to give him that moment.

I’m so glad shame and common sense won out. It’s just as well that the wedding is over. That should bring an end to our tête-à-tête. I don’t ever have to speak to him again. Or see him.

Although something tells me it’s wishful thinking. Because our best friends have just gotten married and are expecting a baby in a few months. I’m the godmother. He’s probably the godfather.

Crap. My life just got a lot more complicated.