Tia

I pace the hallway in front of Salinger’s bedroom door. I can hear him inside, talking to someone on the phone. I can’t hear his words, just the exhaustion in his voice.

Go to him, my heart beats the words.

I think that’s what he was going to ask me earlier today before the others interrupted. But I don’t know. Everything is so uncertain with him.

But that kiss.

It was different. Full of something. Full of emotion. And desire. And I’d felt the way his body had responded to mine. And yet he’s come up here and locked himself in his room, secluding himself from me and the others.

“You okay?” It’s Huxley who asks the question, when he comes out of his own bedroom, looking like he’s going out somewhere. He glances at Salinger’s door and then back at me. “He still giving you a hard time?”

“No.” I sigh. “Not really. I just...”

Huxley takes my hand when he approaches and gives me a crooked grin. “You need something, all you have to do is ask.”

The suggestion in his words goes straight to my core. But it isn’t sex that I’m wanting right now, it’s... hell, I’m not even sure what it is myself. All I know is that Salinger feels like a friend to me, an ally. Can love grow from that, or is it too late for us? Has too much time already passed to turn trust into desire?

I haven’t slept with Banks either, but when that man looks at me I swear he only sees me naked.

Salinger though is not like my other husbands. He jokes with Huxley but is intense with the other men and his parents. He’s complicated in an entirely different way.

When I kissed him, I felt a spark on my end. But will that spark go out or can it ignite into something deeper?

I want it to burn brightly.

“Where are you going?” I ask, knowing I’m certainly not going to interrupt Salinger after all he has done for me. For our family. With Giles coming home, I feel one of the knots in my belly unfurl. Not all of them, but it’s a start.

“The bookstore,” he tells me. “I have some business to attend to.”

I know his bookstore is only a front for shady things he deals in, but I’m still interested in where he works. And I could use a few new books to read, now that I can relax a bit, knowing Giles is going to be all right.

“Can I come with you?”

One dark brow raises. “Fallon wouldn’t like it.”

“But I’ll be with you. It’s not like I’m going off on my own.” As I say the words, my cheeks warm, remembering the night I’d run from them.

After a brief hesitation, Huxley nods. “I guess it would be fine.”

“Thank you.” I hug him, but he turns it into something more like he always seems to do. The man is insatiable.

My back is pressed against the wall and his hands roam up my body, over my breasts, then down my torso, over my hip before cupping my ass and pulling me against him.

It’s then that Salinger’s door opens, and he walks out.

Shit.

That’s the second time he’s caught me and Huxley today. Not that I should feel bad for kissing my husband, but my relationship with Salinger is so fragile right now.

I push on Huxley’s chest, but he barely budges. “Sal.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” he mumbles.

“You didn’t... we just...” God, I hate the uncertainty I see in his eyes and the smugness in Huxley’s. I push harder on Huxley’s chest and squirm out of his hold. “We were just going out.”

“Out?” Salinger frowns.

“To Huxley’s bookstore.”

“You’re taking her out of the compound?” Salinger turns on Hux, but he just groans.

“We’ll be fine. You can come with us if you want.”

There’s a tightness to Sal’s mouth as he contemplates it. “Fallon is going to be pissed.”

“He’s gone until later tonight.” Huxley shrugs, then slings an arm over my shoulder. “You can tell on us.”

Salinger sighs and drags a rough hand through his hair. “I’ll go with you. In case you get into any trouble.”

“She’s with me.” Huxley gives a crooked grin. “What kind of trouble could she get into?”

Salinger huffs, tension pulling at his features. What happened to the easy-going man who’d first come here?

* * *

The moment I step into Huxley’s shop, a smile spreads across my face. In all honesty, there was a thread of worry in my belly over leaving the compound, but the moment I enter this emporium I feel like a new woman.

Beautiful hardcover books from every genre and time period line the shelves, and old antique furniture is displayed elegantly around the large room, along with a few paintings that look like van Gogh and Rembrandt originals.

“You’ve seriously been holding out on me, Hux,” I say, playfully pushing a hand against his rock-hard chest.

He grabs my arm, and pulls me to him, leaving Salinger to walk a few feet behind us, a small frown tugging at his lips.  

Huxley beams at the patrons of his shop, introducing them to me, his wife. It feels good to be beside him, and a flush of pride wells up in me. Yes, he is selling stuff under the table here, but there must be a few dozen people in the shop and everyone seems to know and respect him. And even though I feel all eyes on me as I’m the only woman here, it’s as if no one dares make a distasteful comment in front of Hux.

An older man sitting behind a register looks up with a smile as he greets Huxley.

“Hello, boss, didn’t expect you this evening.”

Hux shrugs. “I got word that a delivery would be coming in about a half-hour. I wanted to be here when it arrived.”

The man nods. “Understood. And who might this be?” he asks, offering me his hand.

I shake it as Huxley answers, “This is my beautiful bride, Tia. Tia this is Benjamin.”

“Pleased to meet you, darling. We don’t get many women in this shop.”

Sal pipes up. “You mean any?”

Benjamin winks at me, then asks. “Did you like those romance novels?”

I flush, remembering the erotic romances Huxley brought me home a month ago. The way I devoured them, imagining myself doing the uninhibited things those heroines so easily tried. In all honesty, they did give me confidence in being a bit more daring. Before having read them, no way would I have sprayed whipped cream on my lover and licked it off.

“Aww,” Benjamin says. “Didn’t mean to embarrass you. Those books were my wife’s, may she rest in peace. I have more here somewhere if you’d like another stack?”

I smile at his consideration. “That would be lovely. Reading has always been my favorite thing, ever since I was a little girl.”

Benjamin nods. “I understand, with the way of the world these days, I don’t mind retreating to a fantasy myself.” He pats my arm as he passes me. “Though I prefer science fiction to bodice rippers, but to each his own.”

Huxley chuckles beside me and I smile up at him, loving seeing this side of him.

“Can you show me around?” I ask him.

“Sure, I--” His phone buzzes and he frowns when he looks down at it.  “Actually, the delivery is here. I need to go out back.” He glances over my shoulder. “Sal, can you give her the grand tour?”

Sal nods, cocking his head to the back of the shop. “The grand tour?”

Hux grimaces. “I don’t know, it might be too much.”

“Too much for what?”  I ask, not wanting to be in the dark.

“She can handle it,” Sal says, not meeting my gaze.

Huxley purses his lips and gives a hard shake of his head.

“Handle what?” I’m getting frustrated now.

“You’re asking for trouble, man,” Hux says. “But it’s your baby, show her off if you like. But it’s your funeral if Fallon finds out.”

Huxley gives me an odd look before turning and walking towards the back of the shop.

“You’re acting suspiciously,” I say, trying to keep my tone playful, but my chest squeezes with warning.

“I want to show you something.” He grabs my hand and leads me towards the far corner of the room, through bookshelves and a long corridor.

“How about a drink?” he asks, lips tugging up and his eyes twinkling as we come to a stop in an empty room.

His smile is so damn good to see. I’ve felt like the Sal I know has been gone since the night I ran, and I’d do anything to see that light-hearted man again.

I look around the space, wondering where he plans on getting a drink. “Here?”

He nods, giving me a sly grin. “You don’t think men come here and barter over books, do you?”

“I didn’t know what to expect, in all honesty.”

He grabs my hand. “Come on.”  And then he drags me to a far corner of the shop, past rows of dusty books. He glances around suspiciously as if deciding if the coast is clear, and when he deems it is, he pushes against a wooden panel and pulls me into a dark room.

I suck in a breath and Sal turns to me, the blackness swallowing us, and he leans in close enough that I can breathe him in, his citrus shampoo calming me despite the unusual circumstance I’ve found myself in.

“This is a no judgment zone. Okay?” he asks, but it doesn’t feel like a question.

I bite the side of my mouth. “Okay.”

“I mean it, Tia,” he says. “And no talking about it after. Fallon would have a fucking coronary.”

“I can handle anything,” I tell him.

“I know.” His fingers find mine, and a thrill runs up my spine. “You’re the fucking bravest woman I’ve ever known.”

I pull in a breath, his words so sincere they startle me.

“You’re pretty brave too,” I reply.

He sighs. “Yeah, right.”

“You are,” I say, pressing a hand to his chest. The darkness gives us a chance to speak more freely. It’s like I can tell him how I feel without having to look in his eyes, and that’s easier somehow. “You stood up for me with your parents, Sal. That means so much. Especially considering how powerful they are.”

He brushes a strand of hair from my eyes. “I’d do anything for you.”

“Most of the time I think you...”

“What?” he asks hoarsely.

I exhale, trying to still my shaky breath. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just insecure.”

He chuckles softly. “You, insecure? I don’t think so.”

That’s when I realize Salinger and I may be close in some ways but in others, he still doesn't know me. He hasn’t shared my bed, or listened to my hopes, or erased my fears. That’s what we really need in order to understand one another.

“So, what am I supposed to keep secret?” I ask.

He squeezes my hand and then laces his fingers with my own. Then he sweeps back a curtain and reveals a room that seems like it’s from another time entirely.

Cigar smoke wafts in the air, an old jazz standard rolls out of a self-playing piano, and there are half a dozen tables with men from all walks of life sitting with elbows on the table, cocktails in hand, discussing matters discreetly.

“What in the world?” I ask, looking around with wide eyes as Sal leads me to the gleaming wood bar manned by a man with a crisp white shirt and bow tie, a mustache curled on the ends. “Should I be here?” I ask, tugging on my husband’s shirt sleeve.

“You’re the proprietor's wife. You can be wherever the hell you want.”

Proprietor. He means Huxley. This is all his.

“Why has Huxley never brought me here before?”

“Did you forget the last few months? It’s been one shit storm after the next.”

“Still, I knew he had a shop that was... discreet, but I didn’t realize it was all this, too.”

“That’s because the husbands don’t know about this side business.”

“Why not?”

Sal holds up a finger to me as the bartender slides down. “What will it be, Sir?”

“Two Negroni’s, please.”

“What’s a Negroni?” I ask, feeling like I just walked into a movie set in the 1920’s.

“Gin, mostly. Campari and vermouth. It’s good, I promise.”

“Is that your signature drink?” Suddenly I feel out of my element in a million ways.

He shrugs. “I don’t know about all that. It tastes good though.”

I nod, and the bartender delivers them to us. “Your room is open,” he tells Sal who nods, picking up our drinks.

“You’re sure no one is back there?” he asks.

“No,” the bartender says, wiping down his counter. “They won’t be in until later tonight. The coast is clear.”

I follow him, swallowing hard, trying to think of some clever thing to say, but I’m at a loss for words. Everything feels shady and yet exhilarating.

Sal guides me through the tables and leads me to a corner of the room with a brocade curtain, which he lifts revealing an intimate area with a couch, large floor cushions, an exotic rug.

“What’s all this?” I ask as he sets out drinks on a low table.

“It’s my hidden lair,” he says with a wry smile. He sits down on the couch and pats the cushion beside him. “Kidding,” he adds when he notices my uncertainty.

“You have a special room here? For what?” I sit down next to him and he hands me my drink. He seems so suave, so at ease and I can tell he has spent a lot of time in this room.

“I’m the one who backed Hux’s enterprise,” he explains. “This one anyways. We opened this place together, so I get perks. Like a special place to get a drink after a long day.”

“You come here after work?” I ask, biting my bottom lip. I try to picture him leaving the office and coming here before arriving at home. I mean, it makes sense in some ways. There’s only me at the compound. I wouldn’t expect my men to constantly watch me interact with my other husbands. Hell, Sal walked in on Hux and me twice today.

Why shouldn’t he have somewhere to go?

But as I sit here and listen to him, I realize I haven’t considered what I do expect of my husbands.

As if reading my thoughts, two women pull back the curtain and walk into Sal’s lair.

Sal stiffens at the sight of them. “Uh, hello Jen, Lana.”

When I say women, I don’t mean women like I have ever met before.

But they are women that I’ve heard about.

Fishnets, lingerie, high heels, pearl necklaces twisted around their necks. Bright red lipstick.

I bite my bottom lip self-consciously.

“Are you…” I start to ask, but then chicken out.

“Are we what?” a dark haired one asks with a curved lip. “Hookers?”

I swallow, not wanting to answer.

“God, Sal, your wife looks scared to death.” The other one laughs.

“Oh, dear lord, you brought your wife! We heard all about you, Tia,” the other one says, looking me up and down. “Did you come to play too?”

My eyes widen in shock. Play?

“God, Sal, that is so like you. Did you not tell her before you brought her here?”

“Tia can handle anything,” Sal says with a firm lip, not looking in my eyes. Then he shrugs, a familiar Sal smile coming on. “But to be frank, I didn’t think you were working.”

They snort with laughter. “God, you’re bad, Sally. What a husband you’ve got, sweetheart,” the blonde says to me. “Bringing you to a brothel.”

Brothel. My husband owns a brothel.

Oh. My. God.

And yet, I’m the one being given such a hard time for my secrets? I force myself to coolly lift the cocktail to my lips and sip. Except I spit it out. “Oh God,” I say, the bitter taste rancid on my tongue.

Sal barely registers my distaste. His eyes are on Jen and Lana, or at least I assume they are. I mean, look at them, what man’s eyes wouldn’t be all over them? And not just their eyes. Jealousy creeps into my chest.

“Anyways, I’m here because I wanted an extra shift,” the dark-haired woman explains as she pulls a thong from between her butt cheeks. My face flames as I watch her, shocked with her comfort level in front of my husband. “Hux has a catalog from the States with some fancy perfume. I’m dying to buy it.”

I watch them with incredulity. These women aren’t the kind that I lived with at Saint Augustine’s. And if Salinger thinks I’m the bravest woman he’s ever met, he must have forgotten about this pair.

If they were caught here, dressed like this, their lives would change. They would be scrubbed clean and sent to a lottery. At least that’s what I’ve been led to believe.

Maybe I’m wrong. Or maybe I’ve been lied to again.

I thought all women of marriageable age were sent to the Lottery in Alaska.

Granted, women like these, wouldn’t marry the sort of reputable men I married. But all men want a wife, no matter what her past might be. Maybe their lottery pot wouldn’t earn so much, but all women in Alaska are now required to enter, regardless of personal preference.

Right?

But these women are different.

I said I wanted freedom - but in a way, these women are living, breathing freedom.

Sure, they may be prostitutes, but they’re living by their own rules.

Beholden to no one. No man.

And yet able to take any man of their choosing. Even my husband.

I stand, hand over my rapidly beating heart. “I need Huxley,” I tell Salinger, my stomach churning with emotion. “Now.”