Playing with Piper (Menage MfM Romance Novel) (Playing for Love Book 3) (22 page)

Wyatt shakes his head regretfully. “As much as I’d have liked to do that,” he says, “I’m sure that’ll violate one of the million terms and conditions of your aunt’s will. No, a couple of our friends invest in real estate. We just connected them with Michael O’Connor.”

“Of course.” My voice is dry. I’m slowly beginning to understand how their world works.

“Also,” Wyatt says, “we’ve arranged for you to have a bodyguard at all times, at least until this contest is over. His name is Tomas.”

“Really? You don’t think that’s overkill?”

“No.” Owen’s voice is hard. “I’ve lost people I love once. I won’t let it happen again.”

My gaze softens as I look at him. I can’t even imagine how hard this must be for Owen. “Okay,” I agree, not wanting to cause him any more pain, “Bodyguards it shall be. I know I sound like a stuck record, but can we afford it?”

Wyatt growls. “If you think keeping you safe is a business expense, Piper,” he says, his eyes blazing with fire, “you’re very wrong. You’re the woman we love. Protecting you is personal.”

I didn’t think I was the type that got turned on by growling possessiveness, but color me corrected, because at that tone, heat snakes down below. I wriggle against them and bat my eyelashes. “Say that again.”

Owen smirks and Wyatt chuckles, and they proceed to make me forget Max Emerson, my parents, the contest, and everything else.

T
he next few
days are idyllic.

At
Piper’s
, Josef has turned over a new leaf. He shows up to work early; he leaves late. “If this keeps up,” Piper says thoughtfully, “Maybe he can manage the pass on Tuesdays. I could even take some time off in a couple of months.”

“That’s a great idea,” I tell her and Owen is quick to agree. We both know that the risk of burnout is real. Piper needs to drastically cut down the hours she works if she wants to run her restaurant for more than just a year or two.

Not yet though. Maisie’s article has brought a fresh rush of diners to Piper’s. On Tuesday, we get lucky and are able to hire three new much-needed employees, a hostess with a warm smile called Sasha, a waitress called Gina, brisk and competent, and a line cook called Salim, who proves his worth in the kitchen right from the start. The extra help comes in handy as we grapple with the sudden crowds. For a couple of dinner services, Owen even rolls up his sleeves and pitches in to cook. I’m an utter liability in the kitchen, but I work my magic in the front.

To my relief, I don’t hear from my father. Owen’s threat has worked and gives me a much needed breather.

Our relationship flourishes. We spend as much time as possible together. It doesn’t take long before Jasper, Piper’s cat, is brought over in a cat carrier. He promptly scratches my furniture and pees on my rug as a protest for being uprooted from his home. Piper stammers out an apology but I just smile and throw away the rug. Nothing can tarnish my happiness, not even the insanely strong odor of cat pee that lingers for three days.

“Move in with us,” Owen mutters one late night, when the three of us are sprawled on the sectional on the roof, sharing a bottle of wine after a hard day at the restaurant. “We can knock the wall down between our apartments and make one really big space.”

“Really?” Piper asks, looking surprised. “Aren’t we moving too quickly?”

“I don’t think so,” I reply. “Besides, how many nights have you spent at your apartment lately?”

She laughs. “There is that,” she agrees. “And Bailey is leaving next week for Argentina. The place is going to be empty all the time. Okay. If you’re serious, I’ll look for a sublet.”

“Oh, we’re absolutely serious,” I tell her, and Owen and I proceed to show her exactly how important she is to us. This time, when she screams her pleasure to the stars, she doesn’t even blush.

The second round of
Can You Take The Heat?
is a cakewalk. Piper makes it through easily. Again, the judges lavish praise on her cooking. The only person silent is John Page, the head of the Hell’s Kitchen business association, who glares at Piper the entire time the judges are complimenting her food.

Unfortunately, that’s when the good times come to a screeching halt.

The third round has eight contestants, but in a twist made for reality TV, only three will advance to the finals. Piper’s one of the eight semi-finalists. Unfortunately, so is
Emerson’s.
And in a quirk of fate that causes my heart to sink, they’re matched up against each other.

M
y phone rings
on Sunday morning. I’ve just received word of the third round match-up and I’m in shock. I pick it up without even looking at the display. “Hello?”

“Wyatt?” My mother’s voice echoes back at me. “Is this a good time?”

I haven’t spoken to my mother for two weeks. The last time we talked, I told her my childhood had been difficult, and she’d hung up on me. “Of course, mom,” I answer automatically. “Is everything okay?”

Piper, Owen, and I are sitting in Owen’s living room. Jasper is curled up on the most comfortable chair, fast asleep. When I answer, they both look up, alerted by my tone.

There’s a sigh on the other end of the line. “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day,” she says. “And I owe you an apology.” My mother sounds sad. “You’d have been better off if your father had taken you with him when he left.”

So many times, I’d wished for that exact scenario. When Janet Blythe had showed up at my house and had been horrorstruck at the mess, I’d wanted to run away and find my father. When I had to move my mother’s old sweaters off my bed in order to be able to find a spot to sleep, I’d prayed that my dad would come back to rescue me.

But those were the dreams of a child. As an adult, I see things I missed when I was younger. I used to play Little League baseball, and my mother never missed a game. I was clean; I was clothed. There was always food in the house for me to eat. My mother had an illness, but she did the best she could.

And she’s never once tried to blackmail me. For that, I can forgive
everything
.

“I wouldn’t have been better off with him at all.” My voice is emphatic. “Look, mom, can we just let bygones be bygones? I’ve hung on to my resentment for a very long time, and all it’s done is make me miserable.”

Piper squeezes my hand in support.
Should I go?
She mouths at me. I shake my head instantly. Even last week, I would have excused myself and taken this call in private, but I find I want her to stay. I don’t want to hide my secrets from her, not anymore. We’re together, warts and all.

My mother sounds a little choked up when she replies. “A fresh start,” she says wistfully. “Is that possible, Wyatt? I’d really like that.”

I resolve to do the best I can to let my anger go. If it requires hours on a therapist’s couch, then so be it. “Me too,” I tell her.

As much as I’d like to end this call on a positive note, I need to warn my mother about my father’s blackmail. She’s going to be more affected by my father’s actions than I am. “I have to tell you something. You remember when my father came over to your house to take photos?”

“For the TV show?”

I shake my head. “There’s no TV show. He told me he’ll sell the photos to a tabloid unless I pay him off.”

“How much does he want?” My mother doesn’t sound shocked, just tired and disappointed.

“Three million.”

She inhales sharply. “Wyatt, I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I should have never let him into the house.”

“Don’t be sorry.” My voice softens. “You aren’t blackmailing me. Jack Lawless is. He’s the only one at fault here.” I draw a deep breath. “I just needed to warn you. If this comes out, your friends will find out. Your co-workers. Everyone.”

She laughs harshly. “I wanted to be on a reality TV show, Wyatt. You don’t think it struck me that everyone was going to find out when I went on TV?” Her voice lowers. “I’m tired of living like this, Wyatt. My entire life is a lie, but I’m finally ready to tell the truth.”

She pauses, and when she resumes, she sounds angrier. “Don’t pay your father on my account,” she says. “I don’t need protection. Not anymore.”

No, she doesn’t. For the first time, I’m hopeful that my mother will seek help for her hoarding problem.

But I’m no closer to determining what I’m going to do about my father when I hang up. Yes, she’s told me she doesn’t care about the photos being made public, but I do. I’m unprepared to let my mother become a laughing stock.

I
’ve been keeping a very
close eye on
Emerson’s
in the last two weeks, looking for signs that something’s amiss. Wednesday morning, I get the breakthrough I’ve been searching for.

I’m nursing a cappuccino in the cafe opposite
Emerson’s,
when I see a familiar yet unexpected face. John Page, the head of the Hell’s Kitchen Business Association, walks up to the pub and raps on the front door with his knuckles.

My pulse starts to race.
Emerson’s
isn’t open yet, so John Page can’t be going there for an early lunch. He’s not a co-owner, because that’s a conflict of interest that Maisie would have flagged. There’s no reason for him to be here.

The front door opens for a second, and Page slips in. I’ve just enough time to wonder how long he’ll be when he steps back out, carrying a navy blue backpack he didn’t have when he entered. Slinging it over his shoulders, he starts to walk away, his gait rapid.

The hair on the back of my neck rises. I know I’ve witnessed something significant here, but I can’t confront John Page directly. He’s seen me at
Piper’s
more than once; he knows that Piper, Wyatt, and I are partners. If I confront him, I might be putting them in danger.

As much as I’d like to investigate personally, to do so would be foolish and irresponsible. There’s only one thing to do. I call Mendez.

“What do you have for me?” He snaps as soon as he picks up the phone.

“I heard through the grapevine that Max Emerson is running a gambling ring out of his back room.”

“I need evidence, not rumors.” Mendez sounds irritated. “What is it with you these days, Lamb? You’ve lost your edge.”

Mendez can sneer all he wants. I’ve lost the desire to be crazy and suicidal, because I’ve found someone to live for, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world. “Here’s something for you. John Page, the guy who heads the local business association, just walked into
Emerson’s
, and walked out carrying a backpack.”

“The guy who heads the Hell’s Kitchen business association?” Mendez’s voice sharpens with interest. “Are you sure?”

“I saw him with my own eyes. He’s on foot, heading east toward Times Square. If you hurry, you can intercept him before he has time to dump the bag. That is, if you want to know what he’s carrying.”

“Got to go,” Mendez says tersely and hangs up.

“This is unacceptable.”

Wyatt’s on the phone with Maisie Hayes, his voice rising in anger. “Maisie, you admitted to us that Max Emerson is cheating. Well, he’s up against Piper now, and this has become my problem. You need to do something about the public votes, otherwise your contest is a farce.”

“Thank you for that, Wyatt.” Maisie’s voice comes through the receiver, loud and clear. Her tone is dry. “Fortunately, I have a solution.”

I lift an eyebrow. What’s Maisie going to do?

“Piper’s here,” he tells Maisie. “I’m putting you on speakerphone.”

“Hi Maisie.” I quite like Wyatt’s ex-girlfriend. She’s smart, funny, and most important to a chef, she’s passionate about food.

“Hello Piper,” she says calmly. “Listen, there’s going to be a change in the way we do the comment cards this time around. My team is going to be handing them out to diners at the end of their meal. We’re not going to rely on the restaurants to distribute them.”

“About fucking time,” Wyatt growls.

I frown at him. “I want to win the contest,” I tell him. “Stop antagonizing Maisie. She’s a judge.”

Maisie Hayes laughs. “You heard that, Wyatt?” she teases. “You have to be nice to me. Okay, I have to call the other restaurants and tell them about the rule change. Piper, good luck on Friday.”

“Thank you.” I’ve been floating on a love-induced high, savoring each and every moment I get to spend with Owen and Wyatt, and I’ve forgotten to be nervous about
Can You Take The Heat?.
But if I win Friday’s round, I’ll be in the finals.

Josef’s relying on me to win so he can find a better job. Owen and Wyatt are confident that I can pull this off. My friends are rooting for me. If I triumph, the exposure I’ll receive will cause my worries about
Piper’s
finances to be a thing of the past.

If I win.
Suddenly, my nerves come rushing back. My palms dampen with sweat, and my skin feels cold and clammy. So much is riding on Friday’s dinner service.

I’m about to go into full-fledged meltdown when Owen pushes open the front door. “I have news,” he says, his eyes gleaming. “Guess who just walked out of
Emerson’s
with a backpack that I’m willing to wager is filled with money?”

Wyatt looks up. “Who?”

“John Page.” At my blank look, he elaborates. “The guy who runs the business association.”

I grow cold. “He’s one of the four judges,” I say out loud. “And if I’m going up against Emerson, he’ll see to it that I lose.”

“You don’t know that,” Owen soothes, putting his arm around me. “Besides, there are three other judges.” But he exchanges a worried glance with Wyatt, one I don’t miss. They’re nervous about tomorrow as well.

Greg Tennant’s wife is in the hospital. Max Emerson’s reputation precedes him. I’ve had a bodyguard, Tomas, shadow me ever since we realized what lengths he’ll go to win, but I still can’t help feeling like we’re missing something.

Owen’s phone rings and he grabs it. “Mendez,” he says. “Tell me you have good news.”

His face hardens as he listens to whatever the cop is telling him. “You fucked this up,” he says finally, his voice flat. “I gave you the intel you needed. All you had to do was nab the guy.”

Mendez says something that causes Owen’s expression to darken. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he snarls into the phone. “That’s breaking and entering. I’m not doing it. Find someone else.”

“What was that all about?” Wyatt asks when Owen hangs up.  

He looks disgusted. “Mendez opened the backpack and found wads of cash, and he arrested Page. Except he forgot to read the guy his Miranda rights. John Page called his lawyer, who showed up and screamed bloody murder.”

“Page got off?”

Owen nods bleakly.

“You told Mendez you weren’t going to break and enter,” I say, looking at Owen curiously. “What did you mean?”

“Mendez wants me to break into
Emerson’s
and steal their computer. After today’s debacle, he’s not going to be able to get a warrant from a judge, so he’s hoping to circumvent the system.”

“Can you pick a lock?” There’s so much I don’t know about my boyfriends.

Owen grins. “My uncle was a pro,” he says. “He taught me how.” He winks at me. “Want to know what other skills I have?”

A familiar heat builds in my body. I pull my t-shirt over my head and move toward Owen. “Show me,” I purr.

Owen sucks in a breath, his eyes glued on my bare breasts. “Come closer, Piper,” he says, “And I will.”  

Wyatt stalks toward me with a chuckle, his fingers working on his shirt buttons. “You’re very bold today, baby,” he says, his voice low and sensual.

My lips curve into a smile. “Are you going to do something about it?”

He’s about to reply, to tell me exactly what he’s planning to do to me, when my phone rings.
Great.
Today is the day of the never ending calls. I mutter an apology to them and pick it up. “Hello?”

“Hello Piper,” my mother says.

Shit. She can’t see me, but I’ve very conscious that I’m half-naked. One hand instinctively covers my breasts. “Hi mom.”

She’s in a chatty mood. “I’m here with Angelina, dear,” she says. “We’re eating breakfast, then we’re all going to look at wedding dresses. Are you at the restaurant already?”

My brain goes blank. I can’t tell my mother the truth about my relationship with Wyatt and Owen. I know I should, but the words catch in my throat. “I’m hanging out with Wendy,” I lie.

Wyatt’s head jerks up at that, and he gives me a displeased look. Owen shakes his head, looking somber.

“That’s good, dear. I called because Angelina just thought of the best idea. We’re going to fly to New York on Friday to eat at your restaurant. This way, you can feel like you’re part of the wedding party, even though you can’t make it home.”

“What?” I squeak out. “Mom, Friday night is the third round of the contest. It’s a really bad time.”

She makes a scoffing sound. “Don’t be silly, Piper. I know you can manage. There’s going to be twelve of us for dinner. Can you make a reservation for us?”

She hangs up, ignoring my attempts to protest. I shake my head, trying to process the bombshell she threw at me when I realize that neither Wyatt nor Owen have said anything. Suddenly anxious, I look up at them and take in their implacable expressions. “Is everything okay?” I stammer.

“You lied to your mom,” Wyatt says. “Why didn’t you tell her where you were?”

Damn it. I haven’t confessed to Wyatt and Owen that I’m keeping them a secret from my parents.

“Are you ashamed of us, Piper?” Owen asks quietly.

“No.” I give him a startled look. “Of course not.”

“Then why did you tell her you were with Wendy?” Wyatt demands. “Have you told them you’ve moved in with us?”

I shake my head, feeling miserable. “I can’t tell them. You don’t know my parents. They won’t understand.”

Wyatt doesn’t look angry. He just looks
sad.
“Do you want to know why Maisie and I broke up?”

I nod wordlessly.

“I thought I could stay away from kinky sex,” he says. “I couldn’t. I suggested a threesome with Owen, and she took us up on it. For a couple of weeks, things were good.” His mouth twists. “One day, out of the blue, she broke up with me. With us. She didn’t want her friends and family to know what she was doing. She wasn’t prepared to deal with the gossip. She wanted something easier.”

A long time ago, Bailey had warned me that a threesome wasn’t all fun and games. She’d asked me if I could see myself telling my parents the truth. I hadn’t listened. I’d been too distracted by the prospect of a date with Owen and Wyatt and too excited by the possibility of sleeping with them.

I can’t bury my head in the sand anymore.

“What do you want me to do?” I whisper.

“We’re here for you, Piper.” Owen gives me a steady look. “But are you here for us? When it comes down to it, will you choose us, or will you please your parents?” He throws my t-shirt at me. “You probably should put this on.”

His words feel like a slap in the face. I’m seconds from bursting into tears, but I can’t blame Owen or Wyatt for this mess. I can only blame myself. “I’m going to work,” I choke out. “I’ll be there all day.”

They don’t say anything. They just watch me leave.

This time, the rift between us might not be healed by an apology.