Page 23 of Sold to the Silver Foxes

“Why the month-long contract? Didn’t you three already…” She gestures vaguely under the water. “Do everything you wanted tonight?”

I huff a quiet laugh. “Hardly. If tonight was a tasting menu, consider it the amuse-bouche.” I continue more seriously, rinsing the soap from her clavicle. “But the practical answer is simpler. December is brutal for us—galas, brand launches, charity balls, board functions, family dinners, a relentless lineup. Each of us is expected to appear with a date. You, Tabitha, will save us from a month of either going alone or fending off trust-fund debutantes looking for rings.”

Understanding dawns in her eyes, mingled with caution. “So I’m…arm candy?”

“Notonlyarm candy,” I correct, resting a hand over her sternum, feeling the strong flutter of her heartbeat. “But yes, there will be nights when your job is to smile, sip champagne, and tolerate small talk. You’ll ‘flit,’ as Dante puts it, from brother to brother depending on whose event it is.”

She toys with the pearl strand, thoughtful. “Will I at least—” She stops herself, hesitant.

“Say it.”

“Will I be allowed to visit my family? Christmas is…important.”

I rinse my hands under the water, then turn her on my lap to catch her gaze. “We’ll work something out. A day trip. Whatever works best for all involved.” The tension in her jaw loosens slightly. “Who should we be coordinating with? Parents? Siblings?”

At once, a shutter drops behind her eyes. She withdraws, shoulders tightening. “I’d…rather not talk about them right now. Pietro said if I get upset I can safeword and end the night, and I don’t want to do that.”

I nod once—no pressure. I appreciate a clear boundary. “Understood. Family remains off-limits unless you decide otherwise.”

“Thank you,” she whispers.

A lull settles. Only the gentle swish of water as I scoop it over her collarbone breaks the silence. She watches me work, curiosity rekindling. “Pietro made you three sound…important, when we signed the paperwork. Who are you really?”

I chuckle, a low sound rumbling in my chest. “You’ve heard of Moretti Brands? Leather goods, ready-to-wear accessories?—”

“Of course. Everyone has…” Her jaw drops. “Wait—theMorettiMorettis?”

“That would be us. Dante is our VP of marketing, Sal is our CEO, and I’m the lucky, lucky CFO.”

“Lucky?”

I shrug, smirking while I braid her wet hair back. “It’s a living. I’ve always been good with numbers and figuring out how to put things together, so I fell into finance as a career.”

“Yeah, but you sounded sarcastic when you said lucky.”

“I am, all things told. I could have been born into a family without the means to afford me my lifestyle. Whether I enjoy the ins and outs of the business is of no consequence.”

“So, you don’t like being a CFO?”

I force a smile. I know she’s merely being curious, but it still digs at an old wound. Fifteen-year-old me telling my mother that just because I’m good at math doesn’t mean I want it for a career, her arguing back that it’s my duty to the family. Twenty-year-old me who grew my hair out and smoked weed on Christmas break just to piss off everyone who dared to call me “responsible.” God, I thought I was such a rebel. It’d be laughable now, if it didn’t drag up the memory of my grandfather, on his deathbed, making me swear to do my best for the family.

I clear my throat, keeping my voice level. “I like it well enough. I like protecting my family’s assets, and I do get a sense of satisfaction when I make a spreadsheet dance for me. We all do what we must to survive, don’t we?”

“Yeah.” Her mood drops so hard it’s as if the water runs cold.

Perhaps my words hit too close to home. After all, she sold her virginity to us for a great sum of money. Is tonight about frisky fun for her, or was it out of a desperate need to survive?

I choose to believe it’s the former. The latter is too depressing. “My job is not who I am, as I’m sure yours isn’t who you are, Tabitha. That’s why I have hobbies, such as this. Runninga multi-billion-dollar fashion house is our life by day. Kinky nonsense is our life by night.”

She splashes water at me—playful, incredulous. “A hobby? Like golf or hunting?”

“More like hunting than golf.” I smirk at Tabitha’s wide-eyed expression when I turn her around to face me on my lap. “And you’re the deer.”

Her breath hitches. I lean forward, capturing her mouth in a slow, deliberate kiss. She answers almost instantly, soft lips parting under mine. The heat that flares between us eclipses the warmth of the bathwater. When I pull back, her pupils are huge, breathing shallow.

“Come here,” I murmur.

I guide her to straddle my lap. Water sloshes against the tub’s edge, cascading onto the marble floor in tiny waves—no matter. The heat of her body pressed to mine sparks a fresh surge of want. Her hands slide tentatively to my shoulders, fingertips tracing muscles. I gather her hair in one hand, tipping her head gently so I can graze kisses along her throat. The pearl necklace is cool against my lips.

---