Whipping her gaze around, she looked out the big, slanted window, to the floor of the club below. Within seconds, she spotted them both, searching the dungeon for her. Xander tried to search unobtrusively, scanning the participants, then creeping past one station after another.

A beautiful blonde made her way toward him on towering silver stilettos. Her mile-long legs gleamed tan and bare under the lighting. The cheeks of her perfect ass were high and firm in a little lacy thong as she approached. The shirt she wore . . . calling it a tank top would be generous, with little glittering straps and a silky, shimmering material that draped elegantly around her slender figure.

The woman slid to her knees before Xander, head bowed, offering herself—and exposing her bare, utterly perfect back from her nape nearly down to the crack of her ass. For a terrible moment, London’s heart stopped. She pressed a hand over her lips as more tears burned her eyes. She bit her lip to hold in the sob. Thorpe must already pity her. No way was she going to give him more reasons to feel sorry for her.

When Xander splayed his palm on the crown of the sub’s pale head and bent to whisper in her ear, London tore her gaze away. She couldn’t watch. The moment was a stark, ugly reminder that Xander wasn’t really hers. She’d been something between a convenient distraction and a way to help his brother. The other woman was a beauty Xander would likely welcome, particularly after her own failure. London had to face facts. A gorgeous billionaire who could have—and had—taken any woman he wanted to bed would never choose the scarred, chubby girl. She’d been living in a fantasy world to ever think that was possible for longer than it took for him to have an orgasm or two.

She turned and caught sight of Javier on the other side of the room, still searching for her. Apparently he didn’t give a whit for being polite. He barged in on a Dom who towered over three subs on leashes crouched on all fours. After inspecting their faces, Javier ripped away, crowding a Dom who’d restrained a squirming sub to a table wearing only a leather hood that concealed everything but her nostrils. Blond hair cascaded around her, covering most of her breasts.

London knew Javier was going to burst into the middle of the Dom’s scene. She didn’t know a lot about this world, but she couldn’t imagine that behavior would be welcome. It had to be like the doorbell ringing in the middle of sex.

She gasped, and looked to Thorpe, who’d gone tense.

“I can’t let this continue,” he bit out.

“I understand.” Javier couldn’t be allowed to act like a bull who’d make a china shop out of his business.

With her heart in her throat, she glanced back over to the spot where Xander had been with the kneeling sub. They were both gone, and knowing him, well . . . he’d soon be inside the perfect blonde, giving her the kind of incredible ecstasy London knew she’d never feel again.

Barely holding in her tears, she whipped away from the window and paced across the room.

“Wait here,” Thorpe barked.

Gladly. London didn’t dare look out the glass again. But when she turned, the phone on the little coffee table taunted her. She could call Alyssa and plead with her cousin to pick her up. Immediately, London dismissed the idea. Lafayette was six hours away, and she couldn’t take the busy woman away from her businesses or her toddler. Alyssa’s plate was already full. London knew she had to find her own way out of this mess.

She collapsed onto the sofa, leaning on the soft arm, and sobbed until she felt spent and sick and so wretchedly empty, she had no idea how she’d ever feel whole again. By now, Xander had undoubtedly given the mystery blonde a slew of orgasms. Maybe he would want his brother to join in as well and help him devour their new, unblemished conquest. An ice pick to the chest would hurt less, but the other woman was probably what they both needed.

It certainly wasn’t her.

Suddenly, Thorpe opened the door again. “Come with me.”

Where? In the end, London didn’t ask. She didn’t care. She just wiped her tears and rose.

When he offered his arm, she slipped her shaking hand around the hard strength of his biceps.

Without a word, Thorpe led her out of the room, down the stairs, and into his private office. Besides an industrial desk and a sleek laptop, culture abounded here, too. Expensive art. Glass and stainless steel. Within these four walls, sleek, practiced women knelt for Dominant men’s pleasure. She wore nothing but a trench coat and smudged mascara. Less than a week ago, she’d been a virgin.

She didn’t belong here.

A moment later, the desk chair swiveled, and Javier stood, looking both furious and relieved. He slammed an empty glass on Thorpe’s desk and barreled toward her. With a snarl, he grabbed her shoulders, pushed her against the wall, crowded her body with his. He smelled of vodka, hunger, and determination. Her breath caught, and her womb clenched.

Of course she wanted him, but she couldn’t be selfish. She’d always love him and Xander with all her heart. Right now, she’d assure them she was fine, then quietly slip out of their lives. But she couldn’t, in good conscience, stay when she couldn’t be what they needed.

***

GRABBING her face in his hands, Javier stared down at London’s wide blue eyes. He gripped her possessively, torn between embracing her from now until the end of time and turning her over his knee to blister her ass red.

“Don’t you ever put yourself in danger like that again. You don’t know who the fuck is stalking around a club like this. Sick freaks who devour innocent little girls for dessert.”

“I do screen my clients, thank you,” Thorpe drawled from the doorway.

Javier turned on the guy. “And your system is foolproof? I notice that you didn’t let her alone on the dungeon floor.”

“Touché.” Thorpe ignored him to regard London. “He’s right. This isn’t anyplace to be independent. Play nicely, Santiago. I’ll send your brother in and leave you alone to . . . talk.”

When the man bowed out, Javier watched London drop her gaze to the slick marble tile. His heart ached. He and Xander had pushed her too hard, and Javier kicked himself for not listening to his brother’s instincts more. But London’s fears went deeper than tonight’s fiasco. He didn’t know what it would take to reach and reassure her, but whatever it was, he wanted to do it now. As soon as Xander showed, they would talk to her, listen and negotiate, let her know how special she was . . . tell her that they loved her.

“Don’t run out on us, London. If you’re not ready for everything we’ve demanded, then okay. But don’t leave. Talk to us.”

“He’s right.”

They both turned to find Xander standing in the doorway, his mouth tight, his shoulders tense. Javier sensed that his own anxiety and anger were mirrored in his brother’s mood.

“Weren’t you busy with the perfect blonde?” London clapped her lips shut as soon as the words left her mouth. “Never mind. You don’t owe me anything, and it’s none of my business.”

“You don’t like the thought of me with Whitney? Good. I’m not interested in her. She offered. I refused. She did me a . . . favor a few weeks ago, and it didn’t work out as expected.” Xander slanted a glance at him, and Javier winced. “I apologized to her. Then I looked for you again until Thorpe sent me here. What the hell are you thinking, running away?”

London’s face crumbled into something so sad. “This isn’t going to work. Us.”

Javier’s stomach clenched, dropped. Dread and denial ripped through his system a second later. When he was with her and his brother, it felt so natural, like breathing. He’d never been happier. They’d made her happy, too, goddamn it. He’d seen that on her face, in her radiant smile, the light glowing from her eyes.

“Bullshit.” Xander stepped in and slammed the door. “That’s utter fucking bullshit. It’s fear talking. It’s you refusing to believe or trust that we care enough to stay, despite whatever you’re hiding. So we didn’t get to see your back tonight. I’m disappointed, but I can be patient.”

“I don’t think I can ever show you.” She tried to wiggle from his embrace, but Javier held firm. “You’ve done everything, given me everything, but that doesn’t change who I am. My limitations. What I fear. Let me go. Really, I just can’t . . .”

“You’re choosing not to,” Xander argued calmly.

Javier saw red. “So are you giving us that old line? It’s not you, it’s me?” The thought that she’d even try that crap on them made his head want to explode. “Don’t. I swear, just . . . don’t. You’re the first person or thing I’ve given a damn about in years. I’m not letting you go.”

“Javier—”

He cut her off with a kiss. No goddamn way was he going to listen to her excuses and self-doubt. She’d pulled him out of a mental hole so deep, he’d been sure he’d never come out. He wanted to do the same for her. Of course he understood that she felt overwhelmed, vulnerable, and scared. But if she’d let them, he and Xander could make her feel so loved that she’d never want to leave.

As if reading his thoughts, Xander merged in behind London, sandwiching her between them. Javier was relieved to see his brother tug the coat away from her neck and lay fiery kisses across her skin, nipping hotly at her lobe. She tore her lips from his and eased her head back on Xander’s shoulder. Javier ripped open her coat, and his brother palmed her breasts. She arched into Xander’s demanding touch.

Jesus, the sight of London, eyes closed, lips parted in rising desire, with his brother’s hands all over her, turned him inside out. Because Xander felt like an extension of his own flesh and blood? Because, like their childhood, he and his brother were in this together, now striving to please the girl they loved? Whatever the reason, it was working for him. Now if they could just reach her, get her to understand that showing them whatever she hid would be all right . . .

“We can’t . . .” she gasped. “Not here. Not anymore.”

“Fuck that,” Xander growled in her ear, then turned her to face him. “We can, belleza. Every day. Hell, every hour. That’s how bad we want you. Whatever you’re thinking about not being pretty or good enough, it’s so fucking wrong.”

As Xander ground his lips over hers, sinking deep into her mouth, Javier stared at the black trench coat that covered the back London wouldn’t reveal. But she hadn’t said anything about the rest of her being off limits.

He needed her. They both did. Feeling her skin under their hands and her cries in their ears might calm the terrified, raging beast inside him. Maybe. But more, London needed their reassurance. They had to make her believe that they wanted her in every way, no matter what.

With a gentle shove, he urged the other two across the room. It didn’t take long for Xander to raise his head from the silken heaven of London’s lips and scowl.

“Sit in the chair, Xander,” Javier demanded.

Something—his tone, his expression, the erection about to burst out of his pants—must have communicated to his brother because Xander led her across the room and complied.

London looked down at his brother, who reached for his zipper with a tempting, taunting smile. He lowered the little metal tab, sliding it over almost-silent metal teeth.

She tensed, held her breath, then let it all out in a frustrated sigh. “Stop. It’s not that I don’t want you. I do. God . . . I just can’t be what you need. I’m trying to set you free so you can find her. Don’t make this harder on me.”

“You are her,” Xander shot back. “We’re going to help you see it.” His brother pulled back the front flaps of his leather pants and stroked his straining erection, thumb sliding over the ruddy tip.

Javier pressed his body against London, pushing his own hard cock into the small of her back and nipping at her lobe with his teeth. “You’re going to feel how much we need you, little one, just the way you are. Get on your knees.”

“But I . . .” She shook her head as if trying to collect her thoughts, and Javier helped her along by sliding his fingers into her pussy, caressing her clit. Under his fingers, the little nub turned hard almost instantly. She gasped.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Javier assured her. “We’re not done with you.”

“And we’re not scening anymore, so we won’t try to peek at your back. Will we?” Xander asked pointedly.

As much as he ached to see it so the healing could begin, he knew his brother was right. Now wasn’t the time, and revealing herself had to be her choice.

He shook his head, continuing to pet her cunt. “No. We’ll be patient. But we want the rest of your body now. On. Your. Knees.”

London melted against him and her voice turned weak. “This is Thorpe’s office. He . . .”