Page 10 of Room Thirty: Perfect Little Doll

“You’re my boss, Ronan.” I cleared my voice. I needed to remind myself of that constantly. I couldn’t be delusional. Coco might think they looked at me some sort of way, but I’d been working for them for half a year now. Knowing the kind of men they were, I was almost positive that if they wanted me, really wanted me, they would have made some kind of move. They weren’t the kind of men who stood around and didn’t take action. I had seen them go after clients with confidence. One day, when they found someone, whether one for each of them or one for them to share, they would go after her and wouldn’t stop until they claimed her. And as selfish as it made me, I didn’t want to work for them when they did. Not when I was so hopelessly in love with them.

“Serena—"

“If you don’t need anything, I need to return emails, Mr. Styles,” I cut him off politely. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop my lips from wobbling. I had no idea why his words had stung.Yes, you do, a voice whispered. It reminded me of how alone I was in the world.

At the end of the day, they went home to god only knew who while I went home to an empty one-bedroom apartment I paid way too much for.

“Right.” He nodded and stood, taking a step back. I forced my body to turn and train my gaze on the screen in front of me while I fought back tears.

I was pouting and being emotional. And I had to get it under control. When I looked up, he was gone. Each of their office doors closed shut.

Which was for the best.

I got carried away with my daydreams and fantasies. Talking to Coco hadn’t helped. Admitting how I felt for them only made it worse. I was delusional if I thought men like Ronan, Fox, and Carey would ever look twice at me, much less want to share me. I laughed at myself. I was insane.

Six months of living in my head in Lalaland hadn’t helped. It was time to get real. A reality check of sorts. They would never see me as anything but their personal assistant.

No matter how much I saw them as potential daddies.

Damn it, why did that hurt so much?

Ronan Styles

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

“I know,” Carey grunted.

“We told you to stay in the office,” Fox scolded. As if that would do any good. Too little, too late. Carey was an impatient son of a bitch when he had something in mind.

“I know.” Carey ran his fingers through his hair. I rolled my eyes. My hands were clenched into tight fists at my side.

“What should we do now?” I asked.

We needed to do something.

Make it better.

I’d tried, but whatever I said had upset her. I rubbed at the ache in my chest as I remembered the look of sadness that flashed in her eyes when I told her she had us. It was clear to me she didn’t believe me. She might want us, but for whatever damn reason, she didn’t think we wanted her.

“What we were planning,” Carey answered, his eyes pinned on the screen in front of him.

I didn’t have to ask what he was doing. I knew. He was watching her. Staring at our little doll like an obsessed madman. Not that I blamed him. If I started to watch her, I would never get shit done. Knowing she was sitting outside my office was hard enough at times. Carey set his phone down and rested his hand on his bouncing knee.

“I fucked up, okay?”

“No shit,” I muttered. He simply scowled.

“I gotta make it better.” He lifted his phone and started to tap on it.

“What are you doing, Care?” Fox asked. I pressed my lips together.

“Ordering food. Her stomach growled in the elevator.”

“Jesus, you’re an ass,” Fox hissed, and I silently agreed.

“What was that dish she liked last time from Mr. Kabob?” he asked, ignoring Fox, his blue eyes pinned on mine.

“The chicken kafta with hummus, pita, and a side of falafel. Oh, and don’t forget the walnut baklava,” I rattled off. I knew what she liked from every single place. I remembered all the orders. The ones she loved and the ones she pretended to like to be polite.