Page 19 of Sold to the Silver Foxes (Forbidden Hearts #6)

TABITHA

The more gilded the ceiling, the louder my conscience echoes under it. I pace the east-wing sitting room, working up the courage to hit dial . I promised Grandma Judy a phone call tonight, and procrastinating won’t make it easier.

Okay, Tabitha. Deep breath. I stab the contact and raise the phone.

It rings only twice.

“Tabitha Calloway!” Grandma’s voice barrels through the speaker—sharp, relieved, half-scolding. “Where on God’s green earth have you been? You vanish, then text some cryptic message about calling soon . Erin’s worried sick.”

My stomach flips. “I’m sorry, Grandma Judy. Things happened fast. I’m safe, I promise.”

“Safe where?” Pots clatter in the background—she must be cooking for Erin. She only makes sandwiches for herself, so no pots needed. “You’ve never gone this long without checking in.”

“I…got a job,” I manage, fingers twisting the ends of my hair. “One that’s going to cover Erin’s surgery.”

Silence. I imagine her pausing, clutching the receiver. “Tabi, honey, what kind of job pays that kind of money in a day and a half?”

The question slices. I can’t tell her the truth—auction podiums, masked billionaires, month-long contracts. The lie leaps out before I edit it. “Consulting.”

“Consulting?” She tries to keep the skepticism gentle. “Since when does dog-walking qualify as consulting?”

“Dance consulting,” I blurt. There’s a credenza mirror across the room; my reflection actually winces. “For…Moretti Brands.”

Pause. Then Grandma’s quiet, confused laugh. “The purse people? They’re paying you to teach them pliés?”

“They’re branching out,” I say, pitching it casual. “Runway choreography, commercial shoots—lots of movement coaching.”

I can practically hear her brown-paper skepticism crinkling. “Well, as long as it’s legal and you’re safe…” But her voice trails. She doesn’t believe me, but she’s too desperate to look a gift horse in the mouth. “You say you’ll have half the money soon?”

“In a few days,” I confirm, throat thick. “Please don’t worry about the mortgage payment—just focus on Erin’s next treatment.”

Grandma sighs. “You always carry the world, Tabitha. I just don’t want the world to crush you.” A beat. “Erin’s still asking for you. You’ll call her tomorrow?”

“Absolutely. Tell her I love her to the moon.”

We exchange goodnights. When the call ends, my hands are trembling. The ornate wallpaper blurs.

Dance consultant. Nice save—or maybe the most insulting lie I’ve ever spat. I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting tears. I am literally sleeping in silk sheets purchased with my body’s price tag while Grandma collects coupons.

None of this is right.

An hour later I find all three brothers in the library. Nico is hunched over a laptop, Dante flips through a motorcycle magazine, and Sal sips espresso and reviews fabric swatches. The fireplace throws copper highlights across the room.

I hover in the doorway until Dante spots me. “Baby, c’mere. We were about to debate whether plaid dinner jackets are ever permissible.”

Sal grunts, “They aren’t.”

I step forward, fists knotted in the folds of my cardigan. “Can we talk? All of us?”

Three sets of eyes rise. I sit. The thump of my heartbeat fills my ears.

“I called home,” I begin. “Grandma Judy—I live with her—she pressed for details about where I’ve been, and I…lied. Told her I’m a dance consultant for your company.”

Each of them register the lie, either winces or brow raises in response.

“I’m not ashamed of you ,” I rush on. “But if she knew the truth—about the auction—she’d be heartbroken. At the same time, I feel horrible lying. And I keep bouncing between excitement and guilt. One minute I’m in awe of how things have been, the next I’m terrified I sold myself.”

Silence, except for the fire popping.

Nico sets the laptop aside, expression measured.

“Guilt and relief can coexist. Like so many other things, you’re allowed both at the same time.

” He steeples his fingers. “We chose this arrangement. No one coerced you. Still, if deception weighs on you, we’ll help craft a cover story more plausible than ‘dance consultant.’ Something that won’t unravel if Grandma Googles it. ”

Dante scoots closer, resting an arm on the sofa back behind me. “And if you want to back out of public events, say the word. The contract allows you veto power, cameras be damned.”

Sal sets his espresso down, studies me with those hawk eyes until I almost squirm. Then he says quietly, “You are not a product here—despite Pietro’s legal phrasing. You say no, we stop. You say cherry, we pull the plug and deal with the consequences.”

My throat clicks. “Even if Pietro tries to take your company?”

“He won’t,” Sal says. “And if he attempts it, that’s our war to fight—not yours.”

Warmth creeps up my cheeks. It’s foolish, but I feel like it’s my war too.

I know how stupid that sounds—we’re just getting to know each other, this isn’t a real dating situation, I’m not na?ve enough to think it is.

But still, I feel responsible because I’m in this situation with them, and if I walk away, they’re fucked.

And they’re still trying to protect me too. Maybe they’re just as stupid as I am about this.

I swallow hard. “Thank you. Truly.”

Dante nudges my shoulder. “And hey, you’re not alone in this moral whiplash.

I’m the king of bad decisions, remember?

The trick is enjoying the ride without falling off the bike.

” He flashes a grin that does its job, and I can’t help but smile back.

He winks. “If you’re gonna do something wrong, do it right. ”

I laugh and exhale the breath in my stomach to calm down.

“I’m scared I’ll fall for…everything. The gifts, the pampering, the three of you.

” My voice drops. “I’ll walk away in a few weeks, romantically flattened.

I mean, you guys are…” My cheeks flush again.

It’s embarrassing to admit what I’m about to say.

“You guys are great, and I’m having an incredible time with all of you.

It’s temporary, and my eyes are wide open to that, but that doesn’t mean it won’t sting when I leave here.

” I can’t even look at them right now, so I stare at the fireplace.

“I don’t know what I’m saying, just forget it, okay? ”

Nico’s hand lands over mine, calm, grounding. “I get it.”

“You do?”

“Intimacy, built on emotions or other things, is still intimacy. There’s a bond, regardless of the circumstances. You’re a human being, Tabitha. Don’t pretend otherwise.” His little smirk tells me he’s enjoying parroting my words back to me.

I can’t help but smirk back. “I’ll try.”

Dante gives my knee a reassuring squeeze. “Worst-case, we’ll send you home with a lifetime handbag supply and a brother or two for moral support.”

A watery laugh bursts from me. The tension in my shoulders finally unclenches.

“Now,” Nico says, businesslike, “about that cover story. How did you come up with that?”

“I studied dance, so I figured she’d buy it.”

Sal raises a brow. “You did? What kind?”

“Modern and ballet. I took some other styles throughout my schooling, but modern was my calling. Ballet too, because it builds a strong foundation, keeps me limber.”

“That explains a lot,” Dante mumbles to himself.

Nico nods along. “It does. We’ll figure out a solution that feels less…

suspect when discussing things with your grandmother.

In the meantime, perhaps a long soak in your tub would alleviate some of the physical tension you’re carrying.

I haven’t seen your posture quite this hunched before, and you look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. ”

Another weird laugh escapes me. “Grandma Judy said something similar…”

“Common occurrence?” Sal asks.

The words almost come out, but I can’t tell them about Erin. If I do, they’ll think I’m hitting them up for money, and that would ruin things. I like these guys. More than I should, really. I don’t want to leave here with them thinking the worst of me.

I swallow. “More than I’d like to admit.”

Again, Sal nods. “It’s not an easy thing to bear that kind of burden for your family.”

If only he knew.

But then I think about it. Maybe he does know what it’s like. Sal’s the oldest, the CEO. He’s had the weight of a multi-billion-dollar brand on his shoulders for years. All those people he employs, including his own brothers, depend on him to keep things afloat.

That would explain his chest pain. He tried to hide it the other night, but I remember that same face on Grandma Judy before her heart attack a few years ago. Sal needs someone to ride his ass about that?—

I’m getting sidetracked. “No, it’s not easy. But someone has to, right?”

“Every family needs a leader,” he agrees solemnly.

“Well, I think I’m going to have that bath,” I say as I stand. “That sounds like a good idea.”

They bid me farewell, and I hurry to my tub. Nico’s right—I need to relax my muscles. Our first night together, I was too tense in the tub with him to really relax until we…

I sigh at the memory.

I have a feeling I’m going to be sighing at a lot of memories in the years to come.

I have no idea how my heart survives a month of this. But Erin will, thanks to them—and maybe that’s enough to keep me upright, even if I crash afterward. Crashing is tolerable. Losing her is not.

I sink into the hot water, and I’m so tense that my body fights relaxing. Not that I’ve ever been good at it in the first place, but it’s harder every day. The only time my brain shuts off is when I’m naked with the guys. What the hell am I going to do when they’re not around?

Doesn’t matter. One problem at a time. For now, breathe.

I try some breathing exercises from my teachers, box breathing and the like, and they barely crack the tension in my core, but at least there’s a crack. I’ll take it. I lean back, letting my hair drape in all directions.

The tub is big—not as big as the one at Pietro’s, but big enough for at least two people.

I wonder if Dante and Sal like bathtub fun the way Nico does.

That was fun, but I was sore after. I think the water washed away my natural lubricant.

But it also might have been the fact that I’d just had sex for the first time?—

Sidetracked again. Why is it so easy to be sidetracked by them?

I don’t know. Another deep breath, a six-count.

Grandma Judy is trusting me not to screw this up.

I will not screw this up. I will be the perfectly poised party guest, the girlfriend du jour for three brothers, the ultimate dance consultant as I dance from truth to lie to truth again.

I can do this. I will do this. Erin is counting on me.