chapter 5

Lena couldn’t wrap her head around it.

A ménage?

What in the seven circles of romantic hell did that have to do with her needing a date to a wedding?

Her brain spun, gears grinding.

Calliope watched her like she was waiting for Lena to catch up. “I shouldn’t have asked it like that,” she corrected herself, tapping the tip of her pen to her notebook. “Let me rephrase.”

Thank God. Lena was not emotionally prepared for this.

“What I meant,” Calliope continued calmly, “is whether you’ve ever considered being involved with two men at once.”

Lena’s mouth dropped open. No words. Not even a squeak. Just stunned silence.

Asking her neighbor for help was clearly a terrible decision.

“Calliope,” she began, setting her teacup aside. “I don’t think”

“No,” Calliope said sharply, holding up a finger. “Don’t run away from the question. Humor me.”

Lena’s face heated to volcanic levels. These were not normal neighborly topics. “Why does this matter?”

“Because,” Calliope said, her voice softening but her eyes staying dangerously perceptive, “if two men could give you the most mind-blowing pleasure of your life, would you even consider it?”

When she puts it like that…

“Uh.” Lena swallowed. Hard. Her voice went embarrassingly high. “T–together?”

“Yes,” Calliope said without blinking. “Together.”

“Are they… interacting with each other?” Lena blurted. “Or just… me?”

Calliope huffed with grandmotherly disapproval. “No, darling. This version is all about you.”

“Oh.” Lena blinked, heat flooding her cheeks again. “Right. Sorry. I’m just… not an expert in multiple-men situations.”

Calliope’s stern expression cracked into sympathy. “I didn’t mean to make you feel inexperienced. I needed clarity. Some triads are… intertwined. I just wanted to know your comfort zone.”

Lena leaned back, exhaling. “I mean, I’m not opposed to trying things. I’m not a nun. And if we’re talking purely hypotheticals? Two attractive, competent men focusing on me sounds… fine.”

Calliope’s grin sparkled like someone winning a bet. “You’re honest. I love that.”

Lena narrowed her eyes. “Why do I feel like you’re analyzing me?”

“I’m always analyzing,” Calliope replied breezily. “Comes with the matchmaking territory. Speaking of preferences, what's your type? Polished and charming? Tattoos and chaos? Muscles? Dimples?”

Lena groaned. “If someone could combine a dangerous edge with a clean shirt and decent manners? I’d marry him on sight.”

Calliope froze for the briefest second.

Oh no. Lena knew that look.

“You already like someone,” Calliope declared triumphantly.

“No.” Lena pointed at her sternly. “Do not start. I was just thinking about the two men from the elevator. They were ridiculously attractive. That’s all.”

“They are,” Calliope said smugly. “My nephew and his Omega. Handsome boys.”

“‘Boys’?” Lena muttered. “Calling them ‘walking sin’ is more accurate.”

Calliope took up her pen again. “How’s your dating experience been so far?”

Lena snorted. “A dumpster fire rolling downhill.”

Calliope’s lips twitched. “Be specific, dear.”

“Okay,” Lena said, leaning forward and counting on her fingers. “I attract creeps. And liars. And self-proclaimed ‘nice guys’ who turn into insult-comedians the second I say ‘no thank you.’”

Calliope’s brows climbed higher.

“I’m serious,” Lena insisted. “My last date told me my ‘curves were intimidating’ and that I should ‘tone down’ my personality.”

Calliope gasped genuinely. “Who raised these feral men?”

Lena laughed bitterly. “Exactly. Another guy used a photo of some hot Turkish actor on his profile. Showed up bald, sweaty, and wearing basketball shorts. And his mouth was… yellow. Like old parchment.”

Calliope grimaced. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“It gets worse,” Lena said. “He said he forgot his wallet. I had to pay for everything.”

Calliope shook her head. “You’ve been cursed.”

“I know,” Lena groaned. “Dating is a nightmare. But I need someone jaw-dropping for this wedding. I want my family stunned into silence. I want Damian to choke on his own smugness. I want to look like I’m thriving.”

Calliope nodded slowly, her eyes bright with purpose. “Then I can help you.”

“Good,” Lena said, standing with renewed determination. “I need him for the bridal shower next week. I’ll be coming straight from work, so have him meet me at the restaurant. I trust your judgment.”

Calliope’s smile was dangerous, the kind of smile witches wore in fairytales right before granting a wish with strings attached. “I’m delighted to have full creative control.”

“As long as he has hair, teeth, and clothes without mysterious stains, I’m good,” Lena said, slipping on her slippers.

Calliope waved a hand. “Darling, please. When have I ever set you up with a man who resembles a biohazard?”

“Never,” Lena admitted.

“Exactly. Now go get some sleep. Big things are coming.”

Lena reached the door and paused. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Really.”

Calliope brushed it off like dust on her shoulder. “Good night, dear. And trust the process.”

“Easier said than done,” Lena murmured as she stepped back into the hallway.

“Not when the future is this promising,” Calliope called after her.

Lena wasn’t sure whether to be hopeful…

…or terrified.