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“Hi yourself. The instant you walked in with the Keller Kings, you put a Shiloh target on your back.”
“Why?”
“Umm, why? Have you actually seen what they look like? Every single straight female with a pulse wants them.”
“Oh,” Allison said sheepishly. Of course, that was true.
“But also, if you met them, then you’d know they’re the grumpiest billionaires in the universe, so while every woman wants them, not many are brave enough to approach them. Well, except for Shiloh, that is. Any one of them would do, or all three, she decided. And do you know what they told her? They don’t fuck little girls.”
If Allison had been drinking anything, she would have sputtered it right out of her mouth.
“Who do they... umm?”
“Fuck?” With a daring grin on her face, Bree asked. “See that statuesque woman in the red dress?”
Allison followed Bree’s gaze and gawked. The woman Bree had singled out was not a mere woman. She was a goddess of such sophisticated beauty that there seemed to be a halo around her. The dress she wore wasn’t just red it was blood red and hugged her curves like a second skin. Horse would probably give himself an aneurysm if he saw it. But it was her confidence, her style, her timelessness and grace, and everything about her that made Allison feel like a distorted alien.
“That’s Tara Mitchell. She was once a supermodel in her younger years, and rumor has it that she was trained in the art of seduction by a courtesan. She can take a whole nine inches down her throat.”
“Nine inches of what?”
“Cock, Ally,” Bree whispered loudly in her ear. “And guess who has nine inches each.”
Oh, my god.
Without thinking, Allison spread her hands apart, estimating what nine inches looked like, and gasped. But then why had her body started to sizzle as if it knew what to do with nine inches? She was a virgin, for crying out loud.
“I know.” Bree nodded. “And the woman in that black dress with the diamond pendant hanging down to her navel. She studied the Kama Sutra, and the Kellers are her favorite men. She knows things that can make an ordinary man just die there on the spot. That explains why the Kellers chose her. Because they aren’t ordinary men. The women they go for are sophisticated, graceful, established, and experienced. And you think Shiloh has a chance with them?”
Allison tried to block out the uneasy rise of heat in her spine. Her blood turned cold, and she frowned heavily as her heart started to pound differently. A sinking feeling dragged her down.
In her mind’s eye, she envisioned Zac, Gage, and Reid touching those women, kissing them, and fucking them. She whimpered. How could she possibly be jealous of them?
What was wrong with her?
“Then you caught Luke Armstrong’s attention and since Shiloh couldn’t land the Kellers, no matter how rich her daddy is, Luke is her next choice. And everyone could see how he looked at you. Oh, enough about men. I heard you’re a librarian.”
“How did you know?” Did she overhear the conversation with Shiloh and her friends?
“They told me you were one when they told me to take care of you.”
“Who told you to take care of me?”
“The Kellers, silly. They seemed rather possessive of you when they did. Told me not to let any guys talk to you, particularly my brother, Martin. So please don’t tell them I didn’t save you from Luke. Come on. They also instructed me to show you our library.”
“Bree, honey, come here for a second.”
An older replica of Bree herself called out to her.
“Argh. My mother. She also gets anxious when she throws these kinds of balls. I won’t be a minute. Carry on upstairs; you won’t miss the library if you try. The bodyguards won’t stop you, either. They put you on the VIP list, and that’s the kind of power they have even in someone else’s house.” She laughed before heading in the direction of her mother.
Allison had no idea what was happening. They had already cut all ties when they honored their grandmother’s commands to come to the ball, with her, so why were they still bothering with her?
Chapter Seven
Allison slowly made her way up the staircase, careful not to go tumbling all the way back down again—movement blunders were her thing, after all. The best thing that could have happened to her was working in the library in Rosemary’s Glare. It was one square room, and there weren’t enough books to fill the shelves to the ceilings, which would require her to use some sort of apparatus to reach them. She was basically saving her life working there every day.
It felt odd that the bodyguards, bursting out of their suits with muscles, just let her go by.
