Page 187 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

DIXIE

I ’m back at the castle again. Everything feels like it’s coming full circle.

The event coordinators had less than a week to set up this event.

They’ve done an amazing job. When I enter the ballroom, I stop dead in the doorway, almost gasping in astonishment.

Yards and yards of red silk fall from the high ceiling and drape the walls, evoking the feeling of being in a sumptuous tent.

Copper candlesticks tower in the middle of tables covered with rich purple fabric. The scent of jasmine kisses the air.

Groups of well-dressed men and women dot the room. Waiters circulate among them with trays of champagne and canapes.

And I’m blocking the door. I step out of the way, murmuring an apology to the couple behind me, and scan the ballroom for familiar faces.

There’s no sign of Eric and Hunter, but I see Hira. Relieved, I make a beeline for her. “Hey.” Hira’s wearing a fuchsia one-shouldered gown, and the color looks amazing against her brown skin. “I love your dress,” I tell her sincerely.

“Thank you.” She beams at me. “I love yours too.”

I’d agonized for hours over what to wear.

Finally, I’d picked a beaded eggplant-colored cocktail dress that I bought on sale at the start of the year.

The neckline is scooped, and the hem grazes the top of my knee.

It’s not the most glamorous dress in the world, but I like the deep purple color on me.

“I match the tablecloths,” I comment ruefully.

She bursts out laughing. “You do not.” A waiter comes up to offer us glasses of champagne. Hira clinks her flute against mine. “It’s good to see you, Dix. It’s been forever since we caught up.”

I suppress my instinctive stab of guilt. I should have disclosed my affair with Eric to HR, and I haven’t, and so I’ve been avoiding Hira. “It’s been busy,” I murmur.

“Things are easing up though, aren’t they?”

“They are.” I even left work at five yesterday. A month ago, I’d have been delighted to have an entire evening to myself. Yesterday, I’d gone home and wallowed in my misery.

“It’s nice of Xavier to invite us all to this gala,” Hira continues. “Look, there’s Leona. Have you met her husband Maxwell? He’s such a great guy. Come, I’ll introduce you.”

I start to turn in the direction she’s pointing, and my gaze collides with Eric. He’s just walked into the ballroom, Hunter right behind him.

My pulse starts to race. For a long second, we just stare at each other.

And then they turn away.

I lock myself in a toilet stall and let the tears roll down my cheeks. I stay there for what feels like forever, hiding from the world.

No, not the world. I’m hiding from Eric and Hunter.

When I emerge, there’s a woman splashing water on her face. She takes a look at my red-rimmed eyes. “You too?” she asks.

“I beg your pardon?”

“We’re both hiding in the washroom,” she says wryly. “Who are you trying to avoid?”

“An ex.” I correct myself. “A pair of them, in fact.”

She doesn’t appear fazed by my admission. “A threesome gone horribly wrong? I’ve been there.”

“You have?”

“Mhm. It happened right here, in fact.”

“At Club M?”

“Oh good, you already know there’s a sex club in the basement.” She smiles as she carefully applies a layer of mascara. “Yeah, at Club Menagé.”

“Is that what the M stands for?” I hadn’t known. I would have liked to come back to the club with Eric and Hunter. I would have liked them to show me around. To take me to one of the private rooms and have their evil way with me.

Now, that’ll never happen.

“I think it’s meant to be Mystery.” She takes a half-step back, studies her reflection, and reaches into her purse for a comb. “It’s weird being here again.”

Tell me about it. If there was any way I could leave without my absence being noticed, I’d take it. But it’s a sit-down dinner with assigned seats, and I’m at the same table as Xavier. I’m stuck.

Oh crap. What if Eric and Hunter are at my table too? Xavier knows the three of us were involved. He must have learned by now that it’s over. He wouldn’t do that to me, would he?

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” the woman comments. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Not at all. “They’re here,” I murmur. “I knew they’d be, but it’s still throwing me. You?”

She laughs bitterly. “Same. Well, not exactly. Let me see. We had a one-night stand ten years ago, and they got me fired. I haven’t seen them in a decade. Oh, and I didn’t know they’d be here.”

Yikes.

“If my organization didn’t desperately need Mr. Leforte’s money,” she continues. “I’d run away.”

“You’re Sophia Thorsen?” I don’t know why I’m surprised. Fiona is a private detective. Avery is a therapist. I should know by now that it’s impossible to typecast women who choose to be with two men, not one.

She puts her comb away. “Do I know you? I’m usually good with faces?—”

“No, we’ve never met. One of the exes I mentioned is Hunter Driesse.”

“Ah.” She tilts her head to a side, her expression curious. “I’ve only met him once, but he seemed nice.”

“He is.” They both were. I’m a fool for letting them go.

After an hour of cocktails, we take our seats at the tables. Xavier gets to his feet and makes a short speech. He praises the community health center’s work and encourages us to bid generously on the items in the auction.

Then it’s Sophia’s turn to speak. She talks about the work the health center has done since it’s been open. She’s not a bad speaker, but my attention wanders. I can’t seem to focus on what she’s saying.

My career is going well. My debts are being paid down. I’m wearing a beautiful dress, and I’m in a room surrounded by people, but I’ve never felt more alone.

Fiona was right. When I was with Eric and Hunter, I was happy.

I keep asking myself if I dare to be with Hunter and Eric. But that’s the wrong question. Being with them never took courage. Being with them was always easy. Always right.

When I realized I’d fallen in love with them, I’d run away. I thought I’d failed them.

But it wasn’t them I failed. It was myself.

The room suddenly feels too noisy, too crowded. I need to find a quiet spot to gather my thoughts. Am I really going to do this? I think I am.

Sophia is done with her speech. People are clapping. I lurch to my feet, muttering an excuse. Hira, who is also seated at my table, looks up with concern, but I barely register that.

Skirting past the tables, I head outside. I feel almost light-headed, giddy with shock at the magnitude of the decision I’ve just made.

I’m about to head in the direction of the washroom with a vague idea to splash some water on my face when someone steps in front of me.

“Look who I’ve run into,” John Stone says with a sneer. “Dixie, Dixie, Dixie. I know what you’ve been doing.”