Page 59 of Theirs to Corrupt

But they’re not done yet.

The pair return to the hangers and shelves that are filled with every kind of negligee imaginable.

My cheeks burn even hotter as they peruse the selections. White, black, red, purple. “I think you have enough.”

Neither responds to me.

Pax lifts a hanger containing a short, clingy scrap of sheer black lace. “For tomorrow night.”

I’m scandalized. That garment will cover nothing.

Less than nothing.

But Link nods. “Agree.”

Then they both look at me, and my breath catches as I think about wearing it for them, the hungry looks of appreciation in their eyes as they slowly peel it off me.

“Pax is a connoisseur,” Link assures me. “It’s perfect.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, we leave the boutique, bags in hand and with my head spinning.

Hours ago, I was a struggling waitress, scraping by and looking over my shoulder.

Now I’m planning my life with a billionaire and a bodyguard.

I have to be dreaming.

“There’s one more thing we need to handle.”

“Oh?”

“The justice center,” Pax instructs our driver. He rattles off an address.

“Marriage license,” Link tells me.

How did I not think of that?

Maybe because I’m on some sort of crazy carnival ride that never seems to end.

Once Link, Pax, and I are inside the Marriage License Bureau, I stop. “You’re okay with this?” I ask Pax, waving my hand. “The whole thing, I mean.” After all, I have no idea how a marriage between three people works.

“Link and I discussed it. And yes.” He smiles, momentarily cracking his protective, badass veneer. “Thank you.”

In his situation, I’m not sure how I’d feel.

Together Link and I figure out what we need to do to get the license.

All of a sudden, this has become too real.

After filling in my part of the digital application, I turn it over to Link.

Because I’m curious, I watch him fill in his name.

Lincoln Sovereign Merritt.

Sovereign?

So much for my assumption that the selection of his company name was an ego-driven, grandiose decision.