Chapter 112 Sunday with Too Many Thoughts
POV Maya:
“Sometimes I get lost in my thoughts as well,” she says, handing me the plant she chose. “I love bromeliads. I think they’re such beautiful plants—when properly cared for, they become exuberant flowers.”
“Yes, they need to be watered every day so they can bloom,” I say, placing the plant in its proper holder. “Would you like anything else, Mrs. Moretti?” She looks at me intently once again.
“I’d like you to come to the farm. I want you to have lunch with me and my family on Sunday. Will you accept?”
Sunday is three days away. Is that enough time to get Dominic and his brothers out of my head? I don’t want them to think I’m desperate to be chosen—even though deep down, I am. I need to look at this positively. If Mrs. Moretti wants me there for Sunday lunch, maybe it means they asked their mother to help them decide whether to choose me or not. I don’t know how arranged marriages work, so I can’t tell if I’m being welcomed or not. I need to research everything about arranged marriages and polyamory online so I know exactly what I’m getting myself into.
“Of course I accept. Thank you for the invitation,” I reply, certain that I need to impress the Moretti brothers on Sunday.
Sunday finally arrived. Ever since Mrs. Moretti came to the flower shop and invited me, I haven’t stopped thinking about what this means. I’m extremely anxious to see the brothers, because ever since I was with Dominic in that alley, I haven’t seen him again. He didn’t make this week’s delivery, and I didn’t even get a notice explaining why. I’m afraid my straightforward way might have pushed him away. I shouldn’t have drunk that Wake the Devil, because what woke up that night was my sluttiness.
Before getting out of the car, I make a wish that everything goes right. Beside me, Louis judges me with his chocolate-colored eyes. My son knows I’m a completely crazy mother. I’ve been talking to him about the Morettis, and my baby’s opinion comes in the form of a low growl followed by an ironic snort. It seems Louis Vuitton George isn’t all that convinced about the possibility of having five daddies. I’ve been trying to persuade him by saying he’ll get more presents, more walks, more treats. Apparently, I’m close to convincing him with promises I’ll have to force the Morettis to keep.
“Son, remember to behave like the prince you are, and no hiding around the house. Your behavior the other day was very ugly,” I say, and he lowers his head, knowing he was wrong. “I wanted to introduce my son to everyone, and where did you disappear to? Be social, please.”
The subtle wag of his tail lets me know his answer is yes. Great. I don’t want Mrs. Moretti to ask about him again and my son not be by my side so I can introduce him to his future grandma. I get out of the car with him in my arms, not wanting him to dirty his little cowboy outfit before everyone sees it. It was hard to find—I had to order it online, hoping it would arrive before this lunch, and luckily, it did.
While Louis shows off his rustic side in his cowboy outfit, I chose to wear a black leather skirt, a red cropped top, and to finish off my killer look, my leopard-print boots. I made sure to part my hair down the middle and braid it into two braids. I want those brothers to look at me and think they could use my braids like reins on a horse… Just the idea of one of them holding them while shoving his cock down my throat sends a shiver through my body.
God, I’m filthy.
I shake my head, banishing those indecent thoughts. The last thing I need is to face the Morettis with that slutty look I unfortunately get when I’m turned on. I take a deep breath, controlling my hormones, which have been all over the place ever since that brute sucked my soul out through my body. That’s just not done. He didn’t prepare me, much less warn me that his grip would be rough. To make the whole thing worse, did his brothers really have to witness it? I can’t get the image of them standing there, watching, out of my head. They seemed to be enjoying it just as much as I was.
I’m fucked. I need to counterattack them as soon as possible, or I’ll be on all fours sooner than I want. I knock on the door and flash a huge smile the moment it opens. I’m greeted by—shit. Mikhail and Adrian look exactly the same. I can’t tell them apart.
Who’s who, fuck?
“Did you cut your hair?” I ask, distressed. “And shave too? I can’t tell you apart,” I confess.
“I’m Adrian,” the one on the right says, and I breathe deeply, looking for anything that will help me distinguish them. I notice a discreet mole on his neck. Casually, I glance at his copy on my other side and confirm he doesn’t have that mole. Perfect. I want to see them confuse me now.
“Come in, Maya. My mother is waiting for you,” Mikhail says. The moment I take my first step inside, I’m surrounded by the two of them. I feel squeezed between them, but I don’t show how happy that makes me. “Oh, hair and beard weren’t the only things we trimmed,” the bastard admits.
“I… I…” I feel like I’m about to jump them. “Here, take my baby and go show him the farm,” I order, and bolt away from the two of them.
I’m not ready for them. I repeat: I’m not ready for them.
Those brothers are going to ruin me. I quicken my steps, looking for the only person in this house who might help me keep my legs closed. Norah Moretti—known to me as my future mother-in-law.