“Let’s go upstairs,” Cora said, standing.

But Bailey caught her wrist as he rose. Was it his imagination, or could he feel her pulse quicken at his touch? All the more reason for them to be in neutral territory. “No. Someplace else.”

She pursed her lips at him. “Like where?”

He shrugged.

Cora glanced up at the ceiling, and then nodded at him. She led him from the room and turned down the hallway, pulling him through a nearby doorway.

He closed the door behind them, and spent a few seconds taking in the grandeur of the place.

It was a library, but like something out of a movie. Row upon row of books climbed to the ceiling where a sun roof cut a massive, bright square through to the sky. It shone its light over a small raised platform where three over-sized armchairs, a few stools, and a low table had been arranged. The place even came with one of those enormous golden globes of the planet, a map of earth scored onto its surface. A small stairwell led to a covered balcony where an expensive-looking telescope stood, ready to gaze at the myriad of stars.

At one end of the library stood a long table, encircled with enough leather-padded chairs to seat a small gathering.

“…you coming?”

He blinked, his eyes finding Cora. She was halfway to the armchairs, but looking back at him with a frown. He cleared his throat, nodded, and followed her through the room. The air smelled of musty books and furniture polish. The thick carpet underfoot muffled their footsteps, as if designed to reduce the noise.

It was also eerily quiet inside here, as if the place had been sound proofed.

To his knowledge, no one in the Martin family were big readers. Then again, Javier would have made sure he had an authentic library, just as he’d ensured his gym housed the latest equipment, even if it had only ever been used by Neo when Javier’s son was present at the villa.

Cora perched on the edge of an armchair, giving him a compressed smile as he climbed the steps.

Her eyes widened when he dragged a leather ottoman in front of her and sat on it.

Her hands gripped the chair’s armrests, and her smile turned nervous.

“What is it?” she asked quietly.

His chest grew tight. Fuck, he’d had the nerve to do this earlier, but after hearing about Gabriella…

He wiped his palms over his jeans, and took hold of Cora’s hands. She shivered a little at his touch, but then calmed as soon as he’d wrapped his fingers around her slim palms.

“I should have told you this sooner,” he said, and immediately knew they were the wrong choice of words.

Cora’s confusion transformed into frustration. “Just tell me.”

“When we were at Swan Manor, when I was…”

“Yes?” she prompted, leaning forward a little.

“Javier had me bring hair samples to him.”

Cora’s frown deepened, and she gave her head a little shake as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Hair samples?”

“Your hair.”

“Wh—?” Her lips formed the letter, but then relaxed again. “My hair?”

“For a paternity test.”

Cora snatched her hands out of his with a hiss. She was halfway to her feet before he could grapple her back into the chair. She fought him, but then subsided with eyes so wide she looked shell-shocked.

“Don’t,” she whispered fiercely. “Don’t you dare tell me that fucking monster—!”

“He’s not.”

Confusion swept away her fear, before relief washed over her face like a heavy wave, dragging her eyelids closed. “Mucho gracias, la Flaca.”

“But it didn’t matter how many samples I brought him, he kept asking for more. I don’t know why—I guess…I think he slept with Naomie.”

Cora still had her eyes closed, but shook her head at this. “No.”

“Why else would—?”

“No!” Cora’s eyes flashed open, their burnished gold searing into him. “She would never have—”

“So I brought him Sofia’s hair instead.”

“—done that to…” Cora’s voice trailed away.

He took hold of her hands again, squeezed them.

She shook her head, luminous tears brimming in her eyes. “No,” she murmured, her lips trembling. “Please, I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me—”

“Sofia was Javier’s daughter.”

“Fuck you,” she whispered, tugging at her hands. “I didn’t want to know.”

“There’s more, please, Cora. Hear me out. I can’t keep this from you. Not anymore. You have to—”

“Fuck you!” she screamed, her voice hoarse and cracked. She tried standing again, but he rose too and wrapped his arms around her before she could escape.

The more she shook in his arms, the weaker her struggles became.

“I think he was the one that arranged your kidnapping. You, Naomie’s…Sofia’s…”

There was a mumbled, “Stop,” from Cora, but she pressed her face against his chest, muffling her own protests.

“He’s been planning this for years,” Bailey said, stroking Cora’s hair. “I want you to know, I had no idea. If I’d known—”

She shoved him away, nearly sending him toppling over the ottoman. He grabbed her arm to steady himself, but she tore free and thumped a fist into his chest.

It hardly hurt, but the pain in her eyes threatened to paralyze him.

“I know he planned it,” Cora said, her words struggling through a quivering mouth. She stuck her hand up, palm inward, and shoved her wedding ring in his face. “This was hers. This was my mother’s. He gave it to me, Bailey. This was my engagement ring!”

Silence filtered down, but it was as if the echoes from those raised words still rebounded in the distant corners of the library.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

“Because I was trying to forget.” Her mouth hardened into a thin line. “Now that he’s gone, I thought I could. But then you come in here, and you just puke it all up again, all over me, and I don’t know how I’m ever going to—”

Bailey’s radio cut her off with a staticky, “Mike to Bravo, come in.” They both jerked at the unexpected sound, and Cora twisted away from him.

But he caught her, drawing her back and cradling her body against his.

“I had to tell you,” he said, swiping his hands over her face to push her hair from her eyes. “I need you to trust me again, Cora. You know I’d take a bullet for you, don’t you? Fuck it, I already have! But I’ll do it again if I have to.”

She glared up at him, but slowly her resolve bled away.

“I don’t know what…what this thing is,” he went on, his mouth running away from him. “But if it means I get to be close to you? To hold you? To kiss you?” He gave a small shrug. “Then I’m in.” He rubbed his thumbs along her cheekbones. “I’m all in.”

She blinked hard, her lips pursing before she spoke. “I didn’t know about Sofia,” she said quietly, and then looked down. When her eyes returned to him, those bright, wet tears threatened again. “How could my mother—?”

But he knew neither of them wanted to know the answer. So he kissed her, and he kissed her hard.

She went stiff, air hissing past his lips as she gasped in surprise, but then she melted against him. His radio belched out another call sign, but he fumbled with it, unclipped it from his belt, and tossed it onto the table.

Cora’s hands slid over his chest and gripped the back of his neck, urging him to deepen their kiss.

Instead, he grabbed her hips, lifted her, and swung around so he could sit in her armchair. She fell on him, almost kneeing him in the groin with her impatience to straddle him. He grabbed her leg, yanked it to the side, and slid his hands down the curves of her body.

Behind Cora, the radio started up again, but all he could hear was her panting breath in his ear as he hitched her dress up to her belly.

When he stroked his fingers along her underwear, he groaned at discovering how wet she was for him.

He jerked down his fly, freeing a hard cock already aching to be inside her. She grabbed his shaft, clumsy in her attempts to guide him inside her. He yanked aside her underwear with his thumb, stroked her slit, and found her opening with the tip of his finger.

Her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ when he thrust into her, but she didn’t make a sound until he began rubbing her clit with his thumb. Then her breath became a pant, and she rocked her hips backward and forward, as awkward as if this was her first time.

But as soon as he had his hands around her hips, he urged her into a perfect, rocking tempo.

Fuck, he still couldn’t believe this was happening. Probably because it still felt so wrong. He’d been her bodyguard since she was eight, and back then it had just been a job.

A particularly annoying one, at times. Especially when she became tired and cranky, here nine o’ clock at night.

But as Cora grew older, as horse rides had replaced the jungle gym, as their conversations had transformed from movies to philosophy…he’d slowly fallen in love with her.

And the worst part was, he hadn’t even realized it until the night he thought he’d lost her forever.

Sure, he’d kissed her before that. But that had felt like pure lust and nothing more.

When her father had torn her out of the stable that night, wrestling with her when she’d tried to come back for him…

The terror in her eyes had made the agony of the bullet Milo had put in him fade away entirely.

He’d lain there on the stable floor, blood pooling under him as he struggled to remain conscious, and all he could think about was the fact that now…now he’d never see the stars in Cora’s smiling eyes again. He’d never hear her laugh, or see her throw one of her magnificent tantrums.

He’d never hear her whisper his name, feel her nails on his back, or make her moan.

So fuck it—he was all in. And if that meant sharing, then he’d share until he had nothing left to give.

Finn threw open the conference room door. Empty. He brought his radio to his mouth. “This is Mike, come in Bravo, over.”

He listened for a few seconds, but there was no response.

Pressing down the button again, he said, “Lars, where the fuck is he?”

There was silence, until he added, “Over.”

“Jesus, the anticipation,” Lars radioed back. “Don’t you think if I knew, I’d have told you, over?”

Finn let out a huff. “We should never have left them alone.”

There was a pause, until Lars radioed in a wary, “Over?”

“Yes, fucking over,” Finn snapped.

“No need to get testy,” Lars replied calmly. “I’ll go check the roof and keep trying the radio. You start kicking down doors. You’re good at that. Over.”

Finn shoved the radio back onto his belt and strode down the passage. It was late afternoon, and it sounded as if an entire flock of songbirds had taken up residence in the nearby trees. The next door was the entrance to a staff hallway, and the one after that opened to a library.

Which he almost dismissed had it not been for the indrawn breath he heard…and then instantly recognized.

Finn stepped deeper into the room, finding Cora and Bailey a second later.

She straddled his waist, one hand on the back of the armchair and the other on his chest while he thrust his hips up to fuck her.

Finn’s beast let out a long, low growl.

She doesn’t belong to him, it hissed. Make him stop playing with our toy.

But that sinister voice inside his head was right…but just ass wrong—she didn’t belong to anyone.

He strode forward, fists creaking and arms tensing in anticipation of that first blow.

Bailey was so intent on fucking her, he didn’t seem to notice Finn coming up the stairs. But Cora must have sensed him; she rolled her head to the side, giving him a vacant stare over her shoulder.

And then it was as if reality had flipped a switch in her head, because her heavy-lidded eyes flashed open, and she gasped again.

But in shock this time, not pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” Finn said as he cleared the last step.

Bailey jerked, and tried pushing Cora off his lap, his face going white.

“I said, don’t stop.” Finn came up behind Cora, crowding so close to the pair she would have had to clamber over the arms of the chair to get away.

He put a hand on her shoulder, and slid the other down her back. His eyes never left Bailey’s as he urged her forward again.

Bailey’s eyes fluttered as he groaned, but there was such a mixture of pleasure and panic on his face it was impossible to tell if he wanted to come or pass out.

It wasn’t the most entertaining sex he’d had to watch, but with the smell of Cora so strong in his nose, he felt as aroused as fuck.

Cora reached behind her, sliding her hand up Finn’s thighs. He caught it before she could touch his straining cock though, and ripped it away.

She protested with a low throated moan, but he silenced her with his mouth.

He touched his fingers to Bailey’s stomach, running them down until where he and Cora met with a wet slap. Then he began strumming Cora’s clit, tearing away from their kiss long enough to murmur, “Come quick, Princess.”

Her next groan rattled in her throat, but then he was kissing her again. Bailey’s thrusts became harder, faster, and he could almost feel the man’s climax building as the muscles brushing his knuckles tensed.

He massaged Cora’s clit as hard as he could, but Bailey came before she did. The man grabbed Cora’s hips and rammed so hard into her that her teeth clicked against Finn’s.

And then Bailey drew out of her, face flushed and eyes bright, but refusing to look at either of them.

“You just going to leave her like this?” Finn asked, running his fingers hard over her slit. She moaned, bucking her hips against his hands and covering him with Bailey’s cum.

“I…I can’t—” Bailey stammered, looking so confused it was almost comedic.

“That shit doesn’t fly around here,” Finn said, gritting his teeth at Bailey. He grabbed the man’s dick, but he’d already gone soft. “Fuck,” he muttered.

There was precious little time, but he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Cora stranded on that island of pleasure, fingers stretched to the lapping waters like someone dying of thirst. And then letting those waters recede into the distance.

That was just fucking rude.

He dragged down his fly. Cora cried out in surprise when he forced her to her knees on the armchair. Pushing her dress up her back, he tugged her underwear down to mid-thigh, ran the tip of his cock over her slit, and plunged himself inside her.

It was unbelievably wet in there, tighter than he remembered, and hot as a fucking griddle.

He groaned, bent over her back, and pounded in her so hard that she had to catch hold of the back of the armchair or risk crashing into Bailey.

The man had frozen under them. Perhaps he was still basking in his selfish orgasm, but he seemed incapable of processing what was happening.

So Finn grabbed his hand, and guided his fingers over Cora’s clit.

“You make sure she fucking comes,” he growled, slamming into her so hard that she let out a breathless scream. “Or you’ll never fuck her again.”

That seemed to wake up the man. He blinked hard, and massaged Cora’s clit with his fingers.

She moaned and moved against Finn’s thrusts. And, seconds later, she stiffened. Her walls solidified around his cock like wet concrete, and he had to thrust even harder to get back inside her as she came.

Her climax felt glorious to him, but it was over too soon.

Now with no intention of holding himself back, Finn fucked her as hard as he could. And he stared Bailey right in the eyes until the man’s shock drained away and lust replaced it.

Still massaging Cora’s clit, Bailey lifted his other hand, and caressed the base of Finn’s cock when he plunged into Cora again.

And then he grabbed hold of Finn’s balls, and the touch was so unexpected that it sent him plummeting over the edge.

He poured into their girl, teeth gritted and jaw bunched, as Bailey stroked the inch or two of his cock that didn’t fit inside Cora.

As soon as he drew out, Bailey snatched his hand away and busied himself putting away his cock—which looked difficult, because it was rock hard again.

Finn allowed himself a smirk as he helped Cora to a stand and tugged her underwear down her legs. She stood still as he cleaned her with the filmy fabric, and then tucked it inside his jacket pocket.

“There’s someone here to see you,” Finn said, when Cora tottered around to give him a wide, dopey grin.

That smile faltered, and then faded. “What?” she asked, blinking owlishly up at him.

“A demon still stinking of brimstone, according to Lars.” He looked past her at Bailey. “Answer your fucking radio next time.”

Finn turned, lifted his radio, and radioed in to Lars. “She’s in the library.”

“On our way,” came his reply.

“A demon?” Cora asked, tidying her hair with a trembling hand.

“Probably a lawyer,” Finn said. At her confused expression, he added, “Lars hates lawyers.”