Chapter 2: The Proposition

She slid into the booth, and immediately they rearranged themselves around her. The scarred one on her left, the one with the mole on her right, and the unmarked one directly across, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. She was surrounded, engulfed by their presence. They smelled like expensive cologne, leather, and something else—something wild and untamed that made her pulse quicken.

"I'm Dante," the scarred one said, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through her. His hand came to rest on the back of the booth behind her shoulders.

"Damien," said the one with the mole, his fingers already tracing idle patterns on the leather seat near her thigh.

"Dominic," the third finished, his dark eyes never leaving her face. "And you're Aria Chen."

Her eyebrows rose. "You know my name."

"We make it our business to know everything about what interests us," Dominic said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. "And you, sweetheart, have been interesting us all night."

"We've been watching you," Dante murmured, his breath warm against her ear as he leaned closer. "The way you walked in here like you owned the place. Like you had something to prove."

"Or someone to forget," Damien added, his hand finally making contact with her thigh, settling there with casual possession that made her breath catch.

Her fingers tightened around the martini glass. "That obvious?"

"To us?" Dominic's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Everything about you is obvious. The new dress with the tags you forgot to remove." 

Damien's finger traced along her lower back where, mortifyingly, she felt the small plastic tag she'd missed. "The expensive perfume you're not used to wearing, you keep touching your neck like you're surprised by the scent."

"The way you've checked your phone exactly zero times since sitting down," Dante continued, his thumb brushing against her bare shoulder. "Which means you're avoiding someone."

Heat flooded her cheeks, but she refused to look away from Dominic's intense gaze. "You're very observant."

"We notice what belongs to us," Dominic said, and the possessiveness in his tone sent a thrill down her spine.

"I don't belong to anyone," she shot back, some of her natural fire returning. "Not anymore."

"Not yet," Dante corrected, his hand sliding from the booth to cup the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair.

The casual dominance should have offended her. Should have sent her running.

Instead, it ignited something dark and hungry inside her.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, meeting each of their gazes in turn.

The triplets exchanged a look—something passed between them, some silent communication that made her feel like prey caught between three apex predators.

"Direct," Damien murmured appreciatively, his grip on her thigh tightening. "I like that."

"We like to share things," Dominic said, leaning back with the confidence of a man who'd never been denied. "Everything. We don't believe in competing with each other."

Aria's breath caught as understanding dawned. "Share?"

"We want you," Dante said simply, his fingers massaging the tension from her neck in a way that made her want to purr. "All three of us. Together."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with promise and sin.

She should be scandalized. Should slap them all and storm out.

But Marcus's betrayal had carved something hollow inside her, and these three dangerous men were offering to fill it with pleasure and power and the intoxicating feeling of being wanted.

"One night," she heard herself say.

Damien's grip on her thigh tightened almost painfully. "What?"

"I'll give you one night." She turned to face Dominic fully, letting him see the steel beneath her exterior. "I'm not looking for romance or relationships. I just got out of one, spectacularly. But I do appreciate good sex. Great sex. The kind that makes you forget your own name."

"Is that what you think we're offering?" Dante's voice had dropped an octave, sending shivers down her spine. "Just sex?"

"Isn't it?"

The triplets shared another look, and this time, something predatory flickered in their expressions. Something that made her wonder if she'd just made a deal with the devil.

Or in this case, three devils.

"If that's what you want," Dominic said slowly, his eyes glittering with dark promise, "then that's what we'll give you. Tonight. But it happens on our terms, in our space."

"We have a private suite upstairs," Damien added, his fingers drawing circles on her inner thigh that made heat pool low in her belly. "Soundproof. Completely private. We can make you forget everything—your name, your pain, your ex."

"How did you…."

"The tan line on your ring finger," Dante interrupted, lifting her left hand. Sure enough, a pale band of skin marked where Marcus's promise ring had sat for two years. She'd ripped it off in the car. "And the murder in your eyes when you walked in. Someone hurt you badly."

"Then let us hurt you better," Dominic said, and God, the promise in those words made her clench her thighs together.

Damien noticed, his smile turning wicked. "She likes that."

"Of course she does," Dante murmured. "She's ours."

Aria downed the rest of her martini in one gulp, liquid courage burning down her throat. "Your terms?"

"You give us complete control," Dominic said, his voice taking on a commanding edge that made her core clench. "You tell us your boundaries, your safe word, and then you surrender. Completely."

"We'll push you," Dante continued, his hand sliding from her neck to trace her collarbone. "Test your limits. Make you feel things you've never felt before."

"But we'll never cross a line you don't want crossed," Damien finished, his hand sliding higher on her thigh. "We take care of what's ours."

"I'm not yours," she protested weakly.

"Not yet," all three said in unison, and the synchronization sent a shiver down her spine.

Her mind screamed that this was insane. That she didn't know these men. That going to a private suite with three strangers, no matter how wealthy and well-dressed, was dangerous.

But her body was already responding to their touch, to the dark promise in their voices. And the broken, vengeful part of her soul craved the oblivion they offered.

"Yellow," she said finally. "That's my safe word."

Dominic's smile was pure sin. "Good girl."

Dante and Damien stood simultaneously, each offering a hand. Dominic remained seated, watching with predatory satisfaction as she placed her hands in his brothers'.

They pulled her to her feet, and Dominic rose to join them, his hand settling possessively on her lower back. Surrounded by all three, their larger bodies shielding her from view, she felt claimed already.

They led her through the VIP section, past envious stares and curious whispers. A private elevator opened at Dominic's touch—biometric security, she noted, and they stepped inside.

The moment the doors closed, the air changed.

Damien pressed her against the elevator wall, his body pinning hers, while Dante moved behind her, his chest against her back. Dominic stood directly in front of her, his hand coming up to cup her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze.

She was trapped between them, surrounded by heat and hard muscle and the intoxicating scent of male desire.

"One night," Dominic murmured, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. "We'll make it count."

"By the time we're done with you," Dante said into her ear, his hands spanning her waist, "you won't remember your ex's name."

"You'll only remember ours," Damien finished, his hips pressing against hers in a way that left no doubt about his arousal.

The elevator doors opened onto a hallway lined with exclusive private rooms. But the triplets didn't stop at any of them. They led her to the end, where double doors opened into a space that stole her breath.

This wasn't just a VIP room. It was a penthouse suite disguised as one. It was massive, luxurious, and equipped with everything needed for the kind of night they'd promised.

Including, she noticed with a mix of trepidation and excitement, a bed large enough for four.

And other equipment. Restraints built into the posts, a bench, handcuffs, candles, whips. Things she'd only seen in movies. 

"Last chance to back out," Dominic said, though his hands were already sliding the zipper of her dress down her spine.

Dante tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his dark, hungry gaze. "Do you want to leave, Aria?"

Damien pressed against her from behind, his lips brushing her shoulder. "Say the word, and we'll take you back downstairs. No questions asked."

She thought of Marcus, of Sophia, of three years wasted on a man who couldn't even be faithful.

Then she thought of the way these three men looked at her, like she was precious and powerful and worth claiming.

"No," she whispered. "I want to stay."

"Then stay," they said in perfect unison.

And as their hands and mouths descended on her, Aria Chen surrendered to the darkness.