Page 2 of Room Thirty: Perfect Little Doll

None of us did.

We’d all watched how affected she was by us. The way she looked at the other when she thought no one was watching. She wanted us, too. Our sweet-as-sugar Serena was just waiting and hoping for us to play with her. In her mind, they might be dirty little fantasies she got off on in the darkness of her bedroom, but we could show her nothing was impossible.

Not when it came to her.

I was pretty sure she had no idea just how much we wanted her.

“We both know that’s bullshit,” Fox mumbled, stretching out in his seat. “If we do this, we need to be very clear.”

“I know.”

“No, Carey. We need to be clear, not just with her but with ourselves. I want her. I don’t mean that as a one-time session so I can use the memory of her as part of my spank bank. I want her forever.”

I glanced at Ronan. He swallowed.Hard.His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, probably much like mine.

“I want that, too,” Ronan added, stroking his thick dark mustache.

“Same,” I finally gave in.

I was the reason we hadn’t made a move. Me and my hangups on love and relationships. Something that the other two had thankfully respected and understood.

Forever?The thought had been daunting before. I was man enough to admit it had even terrified me. But watching my first client and childhood best friend, Peter Northend, fall in love had made me think.

What if?What if it were actually possible?

Forever.

Forever with our perfect little doll.

Jesus, that sounded like a dream I wanted to make reality.

“Wait a sec.” Ronan crossed his arms over his chest. “We go after Serena, not for a one-night thing, but with the intention of keeping her? We want to create… what? A little family?” he asked. To anyone else it might have sounded skeptical, but not to Fox and me. We glanced at one another and knew, more than anyone, Ronan was ready for that. He wanted a family. He wanted a forever. The three of us did.

“Yes,” I answered and read the understanding and relief in both their eyes.

“Our perfect little doll?” Fox asked, giving up the illusion of work as he brushed the papers away from him.

“Our perfect little doll,” I rasped. My head swam. I was almost dizzy with the images I had fought long and hard to keep at bay. Fantasies and daydreams that had plagued me late at night were going to come true. The one word I wanted, no, was dying to hear tumble past her lips.

Ronan, Fox, and I might be as different as they came, but we had a similar interest.

Ronan was the youngest of the two of us at thirty-eight. He’d skipped a couple of grades because the guy was crazy smart. He took care of our books easily. He was always quick with a smile. A natural charmer without being creepy. He gave off that guy-next-door vibe. He was the most approachable of us. Easy to laugh and get along with despite his complicated upbringing.

He was the one who wanted a family probably the most. The asshole dreamt of white picket fences and forevers. A forever I hadn’t believed was possible until Serena.

Then there was Fox. We were both forty. A couple of months younger than me, he’d just celebrated his own fortieth birthday a month ago. Blue eyes, reddish hair and beard with dimples and fair skin that brightened a little too much if he was out in the sun for too long.

He was our closer, as we liked to call him.

He could sell water to a dolphin. Unless he was in one of his moods. If that was the case, then he actually gave my own broodiness a run for its money.

Then there was me. Dark hair and eyes that matched my soul. Pitch black. I had patience a mile wide, though the older I got, the less I felt I had left. I was the fixer. The one who came in and made everything better for our client, going as far as staying two steps ahead to make sure we didn’t run into any issues. My motto had always been that it was easier to prevent a mess than to clean it up.

“You really think she’ll be up for it?” Ronan asked, and Fox groaned.

“Of course. We’ve all seen how she is. She’d be fucking perfect,” Fox clipped.

“Doesn’t mean she wants a daddy, much less three.” Ronan’s argument was fair, but they kept bickering.