The Triplet Pact

POV Mira

“God, yes—” the woman moaned.

Under the blanket, my hips rolled in a slow, desperate rhythm, my fingers slick and frantic.

The man in the video growled something filthy, and the sound went straight to my core.

“Take it like a good girl, take…it!”

I bit my lip to keep quiet, eyes half-closed, heat curling in my stomach—

The door slammed open.

“Dad!” I yelped, scrambling upright and throwing the blanket over my lap like it could erase the last thirty seconds. My laptop slid off the bed with a heavy thud. “Privacy!”

He stood in the doorway, brows drawn low, scanning the room like he’d walked in on a crime scene. “What’s that smell?”

My face burned. “Nothing.”

His gaze dropped to the blanket still wrapped around my legs. “It’s sweltering outside. Why are you under there?”

I grabbed the paperback on my nightstand and held it up like proof of innocence. “Just reading.”

He tilted his head, reading the cover. “Credence?”

“It’s… about a girl getting lost in the woods.”

“You’ve been in your room all day. Reading all day.”

I shrugged. “So?”

He stood rigid in the doorway, his expression carved from stone. "Get dressed. We're leaving for the gala in an hour."

"The investors' gala?" I double-checked. "I thought you said I wasn't ready for that world. Too naive."

"That was before you spent the last three weeks badgering me about the experience." His eyes narrowed. "Before you accused me of keeping you in a cage."

"Because you do!" The words erupted from me. "Twenty-two years old with a business degree, and you won't even let me intern at your own company."

“It’s not that I don’t want you there.” His voice softened, but his eyes stayed sharp. "My company just isn't the place for you to learn."

"Then where is it?" I stepped closer, my bare feet cold against the hardwood. "You can't protect me forever. I need to understand how things actually work, not just what I read in textbooks."

He studied me with that calculating look he usually reserved for hostile takeovers. "You want the real world? Fine. Tonight, you'll get your introduction."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means stop arguing and get ready. Wear the black dress—the conservative one."

The door shut with surgical precision.

I threw the blanket off, the cool air hitting my bare legs. My panties clung damply, and my fingers still smelled faintly of myself.

I was halfway to the bathroom when the door creaked again.

“I will help you get dressed, Miss Kensington,” my maid announced, stepping in with a black garment bag. She paused mid-stride, nose twitching. “What is that smell, Miss Kensington?”

“Nothing,” I said too quickly, yanking a dress from the bag. “Just… perfume.”

An hour later, I was standing in the marble lobby of the Grand Regent Hotel. Everything gleamed — crystal chandeliers, polished floors, champagne flutes in every manicured hand.

My father’s grip on my elbow was firm, guiding me through the sea of dark suits and glittering gowns.

"Stay close," he commanded. "These people can smell weakness."

"I'm not weak."

"No, but you're inexperienced. There's a difference." He paused, scanning the crowd. "There—that's who we're here to see."

I followed his gaze and felt my breath hitch.

He was exactly as I remembered — tall, broad-shouldered, hair dark and perfectly styled, eyes like polished steel. The black suit he wore fit him like it had been cut from a pattern made for his body alone.

Five years ago, I’d sat across from him in his office, notebook trembling in my hands while I asked him about Forbes lists and market expansions for my school newspaper.

Seventeen years old and hopelessly naive, I’d walked away from that interview with a crush I’d buried deep enough to pretend it didn’t exist.

Until now.

Leo Castellan stood near the bar and turned as we approached, his gaze locked onto mine with laser precision.

"Richard." He extended his hand to my father, but his eyes never left my face. "And Mira Kensington. It's been a long time."

"You remember." The words came out steadier than I felt.

I swallowed. “You remember?”

“How could I forget?” His smile was faint but wicked at the edges. “You were the only seventeen-year-old who ever asked me if I thought power was more dangerous than money.”

I felt my father’s hand tighten on my arm. “She’s always had a sharp mind,” he said proudly. “Which is why I’m putting it to use.”

Leo’s gaze sharpened. “Is that so?”

My father cleared his throat before continuing. "Leo and I have been partners for seven years now. His firm handles our Asian market expansions."

He glanced at me then.

"You remember how impressed you were after that interview? Couldn't stop talking about his business philosophy for weeks."

Heat crept up my neck. "Dad—"

"Which is why I've made arrangements." My father's tone shifted to pure business. "Mira's been insisting she needs real-world experience. Says I've kept her too sheltered."

Leo's eyebrow arched. "Has she now?"

"For months. Arguing that she'll never learn anything meaningful locked away in the estate." My father's hand tightened on my arm. "So I'm calling her bluff. If she wants to understand how business really works, she can learn from someone I trust completely."

Leo's attention swiveled back to me, slow and deliberate as a predator circling.

"And what does Mira think?"