WonNovels

Justin always suspected I was only with him for his trust fund.

To test me, he lied. "I have erectile dysfunction," he confessed, looking grim. "The doctor says it's practically incurable."

I froze, a hand flying to my mouth in shock. "Then... the guy who kept me up all last night wasn't you?"

Justin's jaw practically hit the floor.

That same day, the two best friends who put him up to this little test ended up with black eyes and bloody noses.

All three of them dropped to one knee in front of me, voices frantic with desperation.

"Think hard! Who exactly was it last night?!"

1

Justin hadn't touched me in a solid month.

He’d rather get blackout drunk at some downtown bar and have his boys drag him back to the penthouse than spend the night with me.

For a vibrant, dutiful woman like myself, being left out in the cold meant I had to take matters into my own hands.

He woke up hungover in his home office and called me in. He looked at me, hesitating.

I thoughtfully handed him a special hangover cure: black coffee.

Spiked with dishwater, actually.

He didn't drink it. Instead, he let out a heavy, staged sigh. "Mia, there’s something I’ve been struggling to tell you."

I set the mug down and squeezed his hand, lending him my unwavering support.

His eyes darted away. He squeezed them shut. "I have erectile dysfunction. The doctor says it's basically incurable."

He’d even printed out a fake diagnostic report from a private physician to sell the bit. It was trembling in his hands right now.

I laughed inwardly. Just like his bros said.

A month ago, his two best friends had tracked me down. They warned me Justin was going to fake ED to force me to break up with him. They advised me to save my dignity—since I’d pushed him to this extreme, I should just pack my bags and leave gracefully.

I knew they despised me. Mostly because their mutual childhood friend, a girl from another old-money family, had a massive crush on Justin. From day one, they treated me like trash.

What they didn't know was that I'd overheard their little brainstorming session.

Justin: "You guys keep saying Mia is just after my money. Even my parents think so."

Chase: "She obviously is. If you don't believe us, test her. Tell her your family went bankrupt."

Liam: "Too fake. One look at the Wall Street ticker and she’ll know you're lying."

Chase: "Then fake ED. If she sticks around after that, she's definitely after the money. It's not like she's sticking around for your subpar performance, right?"

Liam: "Any normal woman would walk away from that."

Justin: "..."

Sure enough, Justin hadn't laid a finger on me since. Whenever things got heavy, he’d shove me away with an expression like he was passing a kidney stone and lock himself in the office.

I wondered how long he could keep the act up. A month. Pathetic.

I looked at him, my eyes hazy. Hand on my chest, the other covering my mouth, I gasped.

"Then... the guy who tossed me around all night... wasn't you?"

Justin’s faux embarrassment vanished. He froze.

Five full seconds passed before he screamed, "What did you just say?!"

Blushing, I gently tugged down the collar of my silk nightgown, revealing a shocking cluster of red marks along my collarbone.

I’d pinched myself in the middle of the night.

Justin’s face went livid. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white.

I smoothed my collar, my voice trembling. "Wasn't it you? If it wasn't you, then who...? Could it..."

I slapped a hand over my mouth again, my gaze drifting slowly toward the hallway.

Out in the living room, passed out on the designer leather sofa, were the two best friends who had dragged him home last night.

Justin ripped the blankets off, vaulted out of bed, and charged into the living room.

Fists flying, he threw himself onto the sleeping men.

"Fuck! You bastards!"

2

I leaned against the hallway wall, quietly taking in the show.

Every so often, I’d let out a panicked, tearful gasp. "Stop fighting! Please, you're scaring me!"

But mostly, my eyes were wide open, enjoying the spectacle. Watching these usually immaculate, bespoke-suit-wearing elites roll around on the Persian rug like wild dogs fighting over a bone? Priceless.

Justin never trusted me. He couldn’t believe a girl with just a pretty face would genuinely love him. He was convinced I was a gold digger after his trust fund.

Idiot. What's wrong with being with him for the money? Flimsy, romantic love doesn't hold a candle to a solid, mutually beneficial financial arrangement.

I had my reasons. When he first pursued me, he hid his old-money status. So, I kept him in my dating roster, tossing him a text whenever I was bored. We were hot and cold. Totally unstable.

The day he accidentally flashed his Aston Martin and Amex Black card, I cleared my roster entirely.

From then on, he had my undivided attention. Our relationship became rock solid overnight. In a single month, he made more progress than he had in half a year.

The efficiency of capital.

Besides, accusing me of only wanting his money was unfair. I wasn't completely mercenary. He was gorgeous. When top-tier eye candy presents itself, I’m not obligated to decline.

Once they finally tired themselves out, all three lay panting on the hardwood floor.

I grabbed the first-aid kit and made my entrance, the picture of distressed innocence.

I went to Chase first. With his platinum blonde hair, he looked like a rebel heir straight out of a CW drama. Now, one eye was swelling shut and his lip was bleeding.

The second I crouched beside him, Justin scrambled up and kicked him.

"I knew it was you, you son of a bitch! No wonder you were so eager to suggest I—"

Justin caught my eye and swallowed the rest of his sentence, looking guilty.

Chase shoved me away, frantic and terrified. "Justin's girl—no, Mia, get away from me! It wasn't me last night, I swear!"

3

He barely pushed me, but I let myself fall hard backward.

Right onto Liam.

Liam’s hands instinctively caught my waist. I turned my head in a panic, meeting his deep, intense eyes. He had a cut near his eyebrow.

"Thank you," I whispered. "Let me help you with that cut."

"Fuck you, Liam! You hypocritical piece of shit, get your filthy hands off her!" Justin roared, swinging a fist.

Liam shoved me behind him, his brow furrowing deeply. "Justin, calm the fuck down. It wasn't me. I was blackout drunk."

Justin froze, his fist hovering in mid-air. He whipped around to glare at Chase, eyes bloodshot.

Chase shook his head violently. "Not me either! I completely blacked out!"

Justin stood there, lost. Confused. His fragile ego shattering into pieces.

I wiped away a tear and spoke softly. "Right. You were all drunk. It makes sense that you don't remember."

"I'll just pretend the man last night was Justin. Even though he..." I glanced up at Justin, letting a fleeting look of pity cross my face.

His expression turned black as pitch. He had just told me he had ED. Even if it had been him last night, he absolutely couldn't admit it now. Which meant he had to swallow this imaginary infidelity whole.

Chase and Liam exchanged a look. Their rock-solid denials started to crack, morphing into bizarre self-doubt. Both of them stared at the floor, racking their brains for any scrap of memory.

Now they were confused. Were they entirely sure they hadn't crossed a line while blacked out?

Seeing their hesitation, Justin cursed and lunged again like a rabid dog.

Round two left them all battered. Chase’s eye was practically swollen shut. Liam’s jaw sported a nasty bruise. Their usual aloof, elite auras were obliterated.

Justin’s split lip kept bleeding. He shakily lit a Marlboro, collapsed onto the sofa, and looked at me, his voice ragged.

"Mia. Think hard. Who exactly was it last night?"

4

Chase leaned in, looking like he was about to cry. "Mia, please think. Who was it? This is about our brotherhood... please!"

Liam stared at the floor, deep in thought.

I swept my gaze over their three pathetic faces and let out a soft sigh.

I pretended to concentrate, then looked up, my voice sickeningly sweet. "The lights were off the whole time. I really don't know..."

"All I remember is... his abs. They were rock hard."

I ducked my head shyly, my voice dropping to a whisper. "I honestly thought it was you, Justin. I thought you'd been secretly hitting the gym this past month."

Dead silence.

The ash from Justin’s cigarette snapped off, burning a hole into the expensive leather sofa. He knew it wasn't him, but his hand automatically ghosted over his stomach.

His eyes darkened. A month ago, his abs were flawless. But after a month of dodging me to binge-drink at the bar? He was developing a beer gut. The rock-hard abs were gone.

Chase and Liam froze at my description.

A few seconds later, both men subtly reached down to press their own stomachs.

I’d already checked them out before. Both had incredible bodies.

Chase panicked first. He practically lived at the gym these days. His core was a washboard. Feeling the tight muscle, his face drained of color.

Liam’s reaction was even worse. He played squash religiously and had phenomenal core strength. The moment his fingers met solid muscle, he shot a guilty look at Justin.

Then, he locked eyes with Chase.

They both read the same horrific realization in each other’s faces: Fuck... was it me?

Justin’s mouth twitched as he watched them. The cigarette went out. His eyes were murderous. Frustrated, bitter, and completely suffocated.

Round one, and he was the only one disqualified.

Still refusing to give up, he lowered his voice. "Think harder. Are there any other specific details?"

I twisted the silk cuff of my nightgown, looking hesitant. "Details... do I have to say them out loud?"

He ground his teeth. "Yes."

My face flushed. My eyes took on a dreamy glaze.

"He was an incredible kisser. This really aggressive French kiss... he left me completely breathless."

I added, "I really thought you’d been practicing your technique behind my back, Justin."

5

Another dead silence.

Justin’s mental defenses crumbled. He was a notoriously clumsy kisser. It always felt like a golden retriever aggressively licking my face.

A moment later, Chase slapped his thigh and burst out laughing. "Scared the shit out of me! I still have my first kiss, man. I don't know the first thing about French kissing!"

Justin’s glare snapped to Liam like a laser, his knuckles white.

Liam’s face burned bright red. He kept his head down, mumbling, "I still have mine too. I'm probably not good at it either."

I stared at them.

One was a flashy party boy, the other a stoic corporate heir. Both looked like seasoned playboys, yet neither had even given away their first kiss?

I took a longer look at them. Chase slouched on the couch, the corners of his eyes naturally turning up in a rakish smirk. Liam sat ramrod straight, his sharp nose and cold demeanor screaming 'unattainable'.

Justin suddenly exploded, kicking the glass coffee table hard. "Neither of you have kissed anyone?! Was Mia just hallucinating the whole thing?!"

The air in the living room vibrated. Chase’s smile vanished. "I swear. The most I've done is hold a girl's hand at prom."

Liam’s ears were scarlet. It took him forever to choke out, "I haven't even held a woman's hand."

Justin looked ready to pass out from rage.

I spoke up lazily. "Just because you haven't kissed anyone doesn't mean you're bad at it. Anyway, there's no way to prove it. Unless..."

I trailed off, sounding wronged.

Chase’s eyes lit up. "Unless you kiss me right now! That'll prove my innocence!"

Liam’s impeccable composure slipped. He shot Chase a look that screamed Are you out of your fucking mind?

Justin lost it. "You're not even pretending anymore, are you?!"

They started bickering again, throwing accusations.

I sighed, tears welling in my eyes. "Forget it. Since none of you want to take responsibility, I'll just pretend last night never happened. I don't want to ruin your friendship over this."

Justin was the first to object, his voice shaking. "No! Think again! Isn't there anything else? A defining characteristic?"

"More thinking?" I tilted my head.

The rest of the broadcast was strictly rated R. But he was acting like a masochist, practically begging for the final nail in the coffin.

I pretended to think deeply. "His... size. It was enormous."

6

The air froze.

Chase blinked, then a sudden laugh escaped him. "Oh. That was definitely me."

He ruffled his hair, looking genuinely confused. "Sucks that I don't remember it, though. You'd think my first time would leave a core memory."

Liam's face was completely flushed, his gaze darting everywhere. But he gave a stiff, miserable nod. "It could be me, too."

Justin glared at them, his eyes rimmed with red. Stuck playing the role of a guy with ED, he had zero right to speak up. All he could do was seethe.

The other two weren't even looking at him anymore.

He turned on me, agitated. "Mia, I asked for a defining characteristic, not... not anatomy! Give me a useful clue!"

I blinked innocently. "How is that not a useful clue?"

Did he want me to draw him a diagram of the positions?

Justin opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His chest heaved.

Chase and Liam, however, had calmed down. The initial panic was gone. Their expressions shifted from denial to quiet acceptance. Liam, especially, was staring at the floor in deep thought. I half suspected he was already brainstorming baby names.

Chase rubbed his face, stepped right in front of me, and gave an awkward laugh. "Let me just put this out there. If it was me last night, I’ll take full responsibility. If my sister found out I hit it and quit it, she’d break both my legs."

Liam pressed two fingers to his jaw. After a long silence, he stood up too. His dark eyes locked onto mine, his voice steady. "If it was me, I'd do the same."

A good, wholesome girl like me wasn't used to this kind of spicy standoff.

Two men with model-tier physiques blocking my path. Broad shoulders, narrow waists, chests tight and waists lean. One had his shirt ripped open, exposing pale skin. The other had his sleeves rolled up, showing off tanned, corded forearms.

And they were actively competing to take responsibility for me.

A sudden realization hit me. I had been totally wasting my status as "Justin's girlfriend."

So what if they didn't like me before? I was a rational, modern woman. Why would I hold a grudge against two hotheaded guys?

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling.

Thankfully, Justin snapped again. He charged forward, fists swinging wildly.

"Have you guys no shame?! I finally see you for the bastards you are! She's not your woman! Who the hell gave you the right to take responsibility?!"

He threw sloppy punches, quickly losing the two-on-one scuffle. It felt like watching a middle-aged guy with ED catch his wife cheating, try to fight the affair partner, and get his ass beat instead. So sad.

I almost felt bad enough to help him out.

I rushed forward, shoving Chase and Liam toward the heavy oak front door. If they kept fighting, they might ruin those handsome faces, and that would be a tragedy.

"Stop fighting!" I sobbed. "It's my fault! Don't blame them!"

Justin stopped dead, staring at me in disbelief. "You're defending them?! You've never defended me like this!"

I shoved Chase and Liam out the door. Just before it clicked shut, I saw the shock in their eyes. Their expressions clearly said: Mia, you really are a good woman.

With the door closed, I let my tears fall freely, my voice catching. "I was scared you'd get hurt! You couldn't beat them! Of course I'd be heartbroken if you got injured."

The roaring fire of Justin's anger was instantly extinguished by my tears.

I made my shoulders tremble violently. "But you... you thought I was protecting them. You don't trust me at all. And now that I've done something to betray you, you'll never trust me again..."

"I should just move out."

I turned and marched toward the master bedroom to pack my bags.

Justin's bravado evaporated. Panic set in. "Don't go, Mia. I shouldn't have said that. Please don't go."

I didn't stop. He followed right behind me.

"Last night wasn't your fault. And... it might not have even been them. Actually, I—"

I stopped dead and whipped around. "Actually, what?"

I had just accused him of not trusting me. It was the perfect excuse to leave. He couldn't confess that his ED was a fake test now—that would prove he never trusted me to begin with.

His Adam's apple bobbed. He swallowed the confession.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a humiliatingly quiet whisper. "Actually... I'm willing to take responsibility too."

I feigned shock. "What if I end up pregnant from this? Would you still take responsibility?"

7

Justin fell completely silent. After a few seconds, he muttered, "What are the odds? You can't get pregnant from one time..."

I let out a cold laugh. "Let's hope so."

I walked into the walk-in closet, shoving clothes into my suitcase. Justin sat slumped on the couch, trapped in his own agonizing dilemma.

Suitcase packed, I headed for the front door. Justin grabbed my wrist, his eyes red and pleading. "Mia, don't go."

I gently pushed his hand away. "I don't have the dignity to stay in this penthouse anymore. Let me go home. I need to be alone."

He stubbornly gripped the handle of my luggage, blocking the exit. He stared at me, tears gathering in his eyes.

After a long standoff, he looked away, his face flushed with embarrassment. "Mia... are you..."

"Are you leaving me because... I can't perform anymore?"

He couldn't even look me in the eye. He looked genuinely terrified of being discarded. The idea of testing me was entirely gone from his mind. All he cared about was figuring out how to make me stay, probably wishing he could prove his virility right then and there.

I smiled lightly. "You're overthinking it. Just focus on your treatment. I believe you'll get better."

He visibly exhaled. "I'll be cured soon, Mia. Just give me a little time."

Please don't. I was about to be very busy. I wouldn't have time for him.

Terrified he might actually undergo a miraculous recovery, I looked down, my face a mask of guilt.

"Let's talk about the future later. I'm tainted now. I can't let you suffer that kind of humiliation."

He shook his head frantically. "I don't care! I swear I can pretend it never happened!"

I sighed. "But Chase and Liam don't feel that way. You saw them just now..."

I left it at that. Twisting the knife too much would just be cruel.

Justin's eyes darkened. He scoffed. "How exactly are they going to take responsibility?"

"Chase is a useless trust fund kid who's terrified of his older sister. He doesn't get a say in his marriage. Liam is chained to his family's corporate interests. Whoever he marries has to bring commercial value."

"But me? I've made up my mind, Mia. Even if you're pregnant, I'll step up!"

He sounded so sincere I almost felt touched. Almost. If he hadn't distrusted me enough to orchestrate this whole test, maybe things would be different.

I scoffed internally, but brushed him off gently. "Justin, you need to calm down and really think about this. If I am pregnant, are you really willing to raise another man's child?"

I emphasized "another man's child." He flinched.

"I..."

I smiled and cut him off. "Don't be impulsive. Think it over."

With a sudden jerk, I yanked the suitcase handle out of his grip. Caught off guard, he stumbled back.

He watched helplessly as I opened the heavy door and walked out without looking back.

The moment the door clicked shut, a high-pitched, boiling-kettle scream erupted from inside the apartment.

Mr. ED had officially lost his mind.

Standing in the elevator, I practically doubled over laughing.

8

I dragged my heavy suitcase back to my tiny, cramped apartment on the outskirts of the city.

A year ago, when Justin and I made things official, he asked me to move in. I didn't hesitate for a second. I packed a single bag and moved into his luxury penthouse.

Moving out, however, was a very lucrative endeavor.

I had cleared out every piece of designer jewelry and Cartier necklace in the safe. I even shoved his half-empty bottles of obscenely expensive salon shampoo and skincare into my tote bag.

Frugality is a virtue, after all.

When Justin finally checked the place, he’d probably think he’d been robbed.

Honestly, his friends were right. If he actually had ED, I wouldn't have left him. A traditional, dedicated woman like me wouldn't abandon her man over a minor physical glitch. I would have quietly stayed by his side.

But since life was already dealing him a bad hand, there was no need for both of us to suffer. I’d take one for the team and enjoy the outside world for him. Maybe financially support a few athletic, broke college guys. Consider it building good karma on his behalf.

Too bad his ED was fake. No karma for him.

That evening, I was cooking dinner in my cramped kitchen. I’m a fantastic cook. I knew exactly how to cater to the palate of a rich kid raised on Michelin-star meals. After the exhausting day I'd had, I wanted to treat myself.

Just as I took the butter-basted steak off the pan, someone knocked.

I thought it was the super coming to fix the thermostat. I opened the door.

It was Chase.

He was dressed ridiculously well—a deep-V black blazer that opened all the way down to his abs, with a black satin ribbon tied around his pale neck. His platinum blonde hair was as striking as ever. Against his flawless features, the outfit totally worked.

I stared for a split second. But only a second. Mostly because he still had a faint black eye.

He looked at me, smiled shyly, and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

"Justin's gir— I mean, Mia. Can I come in?"

I untied my apron. "Didn't expect to see you. I just finished making dinner and made way too much. Want to help me eat it?"

He followed me into the living room, his face lighting up. "Awesome. I've heard you're an amazing cook, and I haven't eaten yet."

I told him to grab plates from the counter while I dished out two servings of pasta.

We sat across from each other, digging into the steak and creamy rigatoni.

He twirled some pasta onto his fork, took a bite, and his eyes immediately teared up.

I watched him with a gentle, welcoming smile. A smart woman always does her research.

I’d looked into him that afternoon. Chase lost his mom young, suffered through a wicked stepmother, and was practically raised by his strict older sister. Because of that, he craved gentle, maternal female figures. Show him a little warmth, and he’d give you his life.

Sure enough, he put his fork down and stared at me. "Mia, you are such an incredible woman. Justin is a total idiot for not cherishing you."

I blinked my innocent eyes and sighed softly. "Well, what can I do?"

His Adam's apple bobbed. His voice went raspy. "I was biased against you before. I was completely wrong."

"I don't blame you," I smiled. "We didn't spend much time together. We just didn't know each other."

He shot out of his chair, pulled it right next to mine, and sat down. The heat radiating off his body was intense.

"Exactly. We were just too distant."

"Mia, I went home and thought about it. The guy last night had to be me."

"My memory is getting clearer. I think I remember carrying you around the room..."

I paused. The power of self-delusion with this one was staggering.

He leaned closer, his warm breath fanning over my ear. "Mia, forget Justin. Be with me. I'll take responsibility for you."

Right. In their ultra-wealthy circles, dating casually usually involved too many corporate interests, so they kept affairs quiet.

I frowned delicately. "But Justin said your sister would never approve of us."

Chase slammed a hand on the table, startling me. "That bastard! Don't listen to his bullshit. My sister gives me whatever I want."

"He just didn't know what he had. He always assumed you were after his trust fund. Let me tell you, he doesn't even have that much—"

A steady, rhythmic knock at the door interrupted him.

I stood up. "Who is it?"

A low, cool voice drifted through the wood. "It's Liam."

9

I smiled at Chase. "It's your friend. I'll get it."

He grabbed my wrist, sheer panic on his face. "Wait! He absolutely cannot see me here!"

I gave him a questioning look, but he was too busy frantically scanning my tiny apartment for a hiding spot.

"When we left Justin's place, we were trying to figure out who did it," he whispered frantically. "My pride got the best of me. I swore on my life that even if I drank myself to death, I'd never touch a hair on your head."

"If he catches me sneaking over here to see you, I'll never live it down!"

I sneered internally, but pointed the way with the utmost sweetness. "Just hide in the bedroom for a minute. He'll probably just say his piece and leave."

He didn't need to be told twice. He bolted into my bedroom and locked the door.

I walked over and opened the front door. I blinked in surprise.

In my mind, Liam was the stiflingly conservative type. Whenever I saw him at galas with Justin, he was impeccably dressed. Black bespoke suits or gray cashmere topcoats, buttoned up to the very top.

Tonight, he looked like a completely different person.

He wore a deep burgundy velvet blazer that stretched perfectly across his broad chest. Underneath, a black silk button-down was undone by two buttons, revealing a very sexy collarbone.

The pristine, untouchable CEO vibe was entirely gone.

He looked at me, his gaze flickering before he looked away. "I need to talk to you. Can I come in?"

10

I stepped aside and let him in.

My apartment was small. The front door opened right into the dining area.

His eyes swept the oak table, stopping dead on the two perfectly arranged sets of silverware. He shot me an inquisitive look.

"Do you have company?"

Crap. I forgot to clear Chase’s plate.

I covered with a bright smile. "No company at all. I figured you'd come by tonight, so I set a place for you."

He paused, clearly surprised, but obediently pulled out the chair and sat down.

The exact chair Chase had just vacated.

He didn't ask questions. He picked up the fork and reached for the steak.

I reached out to stop him, but it was too late. I watched helplessly as he used Chase’s fork to spear a piece of peppercorn steak, put it in his mouth, and chew slowly.

Whatever. Since they were both fighting over me, he’d end up swapping spit with Chase eventually. Consider this building his immune system.

He swallowed, looked up at me, and a faint smile touched his lips. "This is incredible. I've heard you were an amazing cook. Glad I finally got to taste it."

I gave an awkward laugh, my palms sweating. But since he didn't seem to notice anything amiss, I relaxed and sat across from him.

I put on a worried expression. "Please don't tell Justin you ate my cooking. He's incredibly possessive. He only lets me cook for him. He'd be furious."

"And don't tell him you came to see me tonight. He'll take it out on me."

Liam set his cutlery down and looked at me dead serious. "That's exactly what I came to talk to you about."

"I couldn't care less if he gets jealous. You slept with me. From now on, you're my woman."

Oh, wow. That pure, unadulterated Alpha CEO energy was intoxicating.

I fought down a smirk. My background check was spot on.

As the designated heir to his family's conglomerate, Liam had been groomed since birth to rule an empire. He gave orders, and people obeyed.

Rumor had it he despised illegitimate children. His father’s rampant affairs had produced several half-siblings and essentially driven his mother to an early grave. That was why he was nearly thirty with zero scandals and reportedly hadn't ever touched a woman.

He refused to risk producing an illegitimate child of his own.

I batted my eyelashes, tilted my head, and played dumb. "Was the guy last night really you?"

His eyes darkened. His tone left absolutely no room for argument. "Whether it was me last night or not, after tonight, you will truly be mine."

He stood up, his massive frame radiating an intimidating, predatory heat.

He grabbed my wrist and pressed my palm flat against his chest. Through the silk shirt, I could feel the hard, hot pulse of solid muscle.

He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. "Mia, I have to admit, you're brilliant. You engineered a trap, and I have no choice but to walk right into it. Because I can't afford to take that gamble."

11

My eyes widened.

The corporate heir was definitely sharper than the other two.

My breathing hitched. I kept playing clueless. "Liam... what are you talking about?"

He chuckled, a low, husky sound that sent shivers down my spine. "I can't risk the possibility that we actually did something last night. So, to eliminate any complications, we might as well make it a reality."

"I don't care what your ultimate goal is. But if you're looking for financial security, I am a far better option than Justin."

He guided my hand down his hard chest, sliding lower and lower until—

Oh, wow.

The merchandise was spectacular.

"You said the guy last night was enormous. Want to inspect the goods yourself?"

His voice was a low, magnetic rumble. It was impossible to resist.

It's always the quiet, repressed ones who go absolutely feral when they let loose.

A dutiful woman like me, who had been starved of affection for a month, couldn't handle this level of teasing. If Chase wasn't hiding in my bedroom, I would have thrown Liam on the table right then and there.

But since we couldn't go all the way, a kiss wasn't out of the question, right?

I grabbed the collar of his silk shirt and yanked him down toward me.

His eyes widened in shock, clearly not expecting me to take the initiative.

My lips were inches from his when the damn door knocked again.

A flash of pure irritation crossed Liam's face.

I gave him an apologetic smile. "Probably a neighbor."

He reluctantly let me go. I jogged to the door and cleared my throat. "Who is it?"

A very familiar voice rang through the door. "Mia, it's me."

12

Liam's face drained of color. He shook his head frantically.

But Justin knew I was home. Pretending I wasn't wasn't an option.

"Aren't you guys best friends?" I whispered to Liam. "It's fine, I'm opening the door."

Liam crossed the room in two massive strides, grabbed my wrist, and shook his head like his life depended on it. "Before I came over, he called to interrogate me about last night. I swore up and down it wasn't me."

"If he catches me here, the psychopath is going to start throwing punches again."

I gave him a slow once-over. With his build, was he really scared of a fistfight?

He caught my look and hissed, "I'm not scared of him! I have a critical board meeting tomorrow morning. I cannot show up with a bruised face."

Fine. What now?

I scanned my tiny studio. Aside from the open kitchen and living area, there was only the en-suite bedroom.

There was literally nowhere else to hide.

Justin knocked harder. "Mia, open the door!"

Out of options, I dragged Liam toward the bedroom. I threw the door open—and found Chase pressed against the wood, caught mid-eavesdrop.

Six eyes locked. The air froze. I made a split-second decision and shoved Liam inside. "You two catch up. I'll handle him and be right back."

Liam's eyes bulged in horror. He pointed a trembling finger between me and Chase. "Are you two..."

I slammed the door shut before he could finish and rushed to the entryway.

The moment I unbolted the door, Justin burst in like a hurricane and wrapped me in a crushing hug.

"Mia, I've figured it out! Even if you're pregnant, I don't care!"

"I'll be the father!"

Meanwhile, inside the cramped bedroom, Chase and Liam were engaged in a silent, furious staredown.

Liam recovered first. He let out a cold scoff, whispering fiercely, "Who was it that swore he'd never touch a hair on her head even if he drank himself to death? What the fuck are you doing here?"

Chase sneered, firing right back. "And you? Mr. Pure-and-Chaste? Why the hell are you dressed like a peacock on the prowl?"

Liam glared at him, his voice a low threat. "Mia is mine. Back off."

Chase’s platinum hair bounced as he bristled, completely forgetting to whisper. "Why is she yours?! Last night is a Schrödinger's hookup! I have just as much of a claim as you do!"

Liam clamped a hand over Chase’s mouth, shooting a panicked look at the door. "Do you have a death wish?! Keep your voice down before Justin kicks the door in and blackens your other eye!"

Chase realized his mistake. He froze, letting Liam hold him in a headlock, too scared to move a muscle.

They stayed frozen like that, an absurd, tangled statue of two elite billionaires hiding in a tiny bedroom.

Out in the living room, Justin suddenly perked up, looking confused. "Why does it sound like there's a guy talking in there?"

He let go of me and stalked deeper into the apartment, his eagle eyes scanning the space.

When he spotted the closed bedroom door, he frowned and started toward it.

My heart leaped into my throat. "That's just Netflix!" I blurted. "I was casting a show in the bedroom. Come sit down and eat, the steak is getting cold."

Justin paused. He turned around, saw the food on the table, and his eyes lit up. "Mia... you made me dinner?"

I nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I just knew you'd come looking for me tonight. I made the steak exactly how you like it."

Justin's eyes teared up. He was definitely mentally flogging himself for being such a piece of shit. How could he have tested a woman as devoted and perfect as me?

He strode over to the table, sat down, grabbed the very fork Chase and Liam had just used, and started inhaling the food.

I didn't stop him. We were all going to be one big happy family soon anyway. What's a little shared saliva between bros?

Justin chewed happily, mumbling, "This is incredible. Nobody cooks like you, Mia. Remember, from now on, you only cook for me."

Inside the bedroom, the forced intimacy was already wearing thin. Hearing that sentence, Liam suddenly had a violent allergic reaction. He grabbed Chase's neck and hissed, "Did you use that silverware on the table?"

Chase grinned shamelessly. "Yup. Licked the fork clean, too."

Liam's mild germaphobia completely broke him. He started scrubbing his mouth with the back of his hand like he was trying to peel the skin off. "Spit, spit, spit! I ate your fucking spit!"

This time, Chase clamped a hand over Liam's mouth to shut him up.

But the scuffle was a little too loud. The noise bled through the door. Justin stopped chewing, his ears twitching.

"I swear to God I just heard Liam's robotic voice."

13

I cranked up my volume to distract him again. "Justin! I can't just cook for you anymore. I have to think about making portions for Chase and Liam, too."

The silver fork clattered onto the porcelain plate. Justin's voice trembled violently. "Chase and Liam?! Since when are you on a first-name basis with them?!"

I ducked my head, playing the shy, conflicted victim. "Well... since we might have spent the night together, using formal titles feels a bit distant, doesn't it?"

I gently rested a hand on my flat stomach, my eyes softening. "If I really am pregnant, one of them is the biological father. We'll be seeing a lot of each other."

"Since you can't perform anyway, and you've graciously offered to be the father on paper, you'll have to get used to playing nice with them eventually."

"Right, Justin?"

I looked up, meeting his paper-white face. His fists were clenched so tight the veins bulged. He opened his mouth, struggled for a few seconds, but couldn't formulate a single word.

I smirked inwardly. That's what he got for shooting himself in the foot.

After that suffocating dinner, I moved to clear the plates. Justin practically threw himself at the table to grab them first. "Mia, go sit on the couch. I'll handle the dishes."

Seeing how desperate he was to earn brownie points and alleviate his guilt, I let him have at it. I went to the living room and sat down.

Less than five minutes later, two loud crashes echoed from the kitchen.

I walked in to find my custom plates smashed to pieces across the floor. Justin stood by the sink, looking like a lost puppy, his guilt intensifying. "Mia, I'm so sorry... I've never used a dishwasher before... I've never washed a dish in my life."

The pampered rich kid couldn't handle a sponge without his maids.

I stared at the mess, my face turning icy. "Enough. Stop making a mess. Just go home. I'll clean it up."

He drooped like a kicked golden retriever, but his tone was stubborn. "I'm not leaving! I'm staying right here to keep you company!"

I pushed him firmly out of the kitchen and pointed at the front door. "Listen to me. Stop causing trouble and go. I am exhausted."

He gave me a pathetic look, but seeing I wasn't budging, he slumped his shoulders and opened the door.

I turned back to the kitchen. The heavy front door thudded shut.

At that exact moment, the bedroom door creaked open.

The two massive men shoved their way out, arguing in hushed, vicious whispers.

"Once a guy hits twenty-five, his body is basically a sixty-year-old's," Chase scoffed. "You're twenty-seven. Stop trying to compete where you clearly can't keep up."

"You little brat," Liam shot back. "Did you minor in manipulative bitchery in college? You think you can steal my woman?"

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