Chapter 66

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TW: double penetration & butt stuff, y'all got mad in Kimber's daughter but I'll be damned if imma write a reverse harem without some dp smut.  kind of weird, daddy kink so don't read if you don't wanna 😤 xo

I brush out the charcoal and soot from the fireplace. It's evening, and the Shelby's still aren't home — I'm beginning to worry. I bite my lip, horrors running through my mind. I'm not familiar with the London gangs, or with their gin exports. If anything happened to them...

The lock clicks in the front door, and the sudden scrape of metal in the silent house causes me to flinch, tipping the dustpan full of ash all over my cream skirt and cashmere jumper. My heart thuds, still on edge, even as I hear Arthur's voice and I exhale sharply.

"...he says, and so I told him, I fucking told him, just what I'd..." Arthur stops in the doorway, eyebrows raised.

Michael's beside him. Arthur's surprise quickly turns to anger.

"What the fuck are you doing here by yourself?" He asks.

"Trying to clean the fireplace," I reply through gritted teeth as I stand to my feet.

"You're meant to be at Polly's," he says.

"I was. Last night, and all this morning. I thought you'd be back. Where's Tommy and John?"

"They had to stay another night," Michael says. "Issues with the shipment."

My chest heaves. I fight myself internally, humiliated at the thought of sounding like a nagging wife. But my anger and lingering adrenaline wins the battle. "You could have called," I say, dropping to my knees and sweeping up the ash from the floor. "John's as fresh out of hospital as I am, and I... I didn't know when you'd be back."

I hear footsteps, feel Arthur's hand tilt my chin up, forcing me to look at him. My face burns.

"You're right," he says softly. "We should have called. It won't happen again."

I blink and swallow. "Good," I manage to say.

He lowers to his knees beside me. "I'll bring you with us next time. Eh? Take you to one of them nice London hotels." He frowns, eyes roaming me. "Why are you covered in soot?"

"It's fucking everywhere," I sigh bitterly. "You gave me a fright."

"Last time I did that, you pointed a gun at me," he murmurs, holding me a little closer.

His eyes flash at the memory. My breath catches in my chest.

"She needs a bath," Michael says in a low voice from the doorway.

Arthur nods, not breaking eye contact. "We'll have to help her."

He wraps his arms around me and easily lifts me as he stands up, carrying me in his arms. I wrap mine around his neck, but I scowl, ready to insist I'm capable of washing myself.

And then I realise, it's the first time in months I've done so.

Scowled. Had the urge to bite back, reject their kindness. Reject their love. After being left here alone, and feeling forgotten — it must have triggered the instinct. The abandonment.

I don't need to push them away. I never will.

Arthur notices it, too. "It's been a long time since you've looked at us like that," he murmurs, pausing in the doorway.

I wrap myself more tightly against him. It's Arthur. The one who first showed me I'm not alone, I'm not the only person in the world who feels this way. The first man to fuck me like he meant it, to fuck me like he loves me. My comfort. My solace. I bury my face in his neck and breathe in his scent, his cologne. He's freshly shaven. He's here.

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