The Proposition: A Reverse Harem Romance Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Books by Cassie Cole

  1 - Nadia

  2 - Nadia

  3 - Braden

  4 - Nadia

  5 - Nadia

  6 - Nadia

  7 - Nadia

  8 - Nadia

  9 - Nadia

  10 - Ryan

  11 - Nadia

  12 - Nadia

  13 - Nadia

  14 - Nadia

  15 - Dorian

  16 - Nadia

  17 - Nadia

  18 - Ryan

  19 - Nadia

  20 - Nadia

  21 - Braden

  22 - Nadia

  23 - Andy

  24 - Nadia

  25 - Nadia

  26 - Nadia

  27 - Nadia

  28 - Ryan

  29 - Nadia

  30 - Nadia

  31 - Nadia

  32 - Nadia

  33 - Dorian

  34 - Nadia

  35 - Nadia

  36 - Ryan

  37 - Nadia

  38 - Nadia

  39 - Nadia

  40 - Andy

  41 - Nadia

  42 - Nadia

  43 - Nadia

  44 - Dorian

  45 - Nadia

  46 - Nadia

  47 - Nadia

  48 - Ryan

  49 - Nadia

  50 - Nadia

  51 - Nadia

  52 - Nadia

  53 - Nadia

  54 - Nadia

  55 - Ryan

  56 - Nadia

  57 - Braden

  58 - Nadia

  59 - Nadia

  60 - Nadia

  61 - Nadia

  62 - Nadia

  Epilogue

  Bonus Chapter

  Sneak Peek - Saved by the SEALs

  About the Author

  The Proposition

  By Cassie Cole

  Copyright © 2019 Juicy Gems Publishing

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without prior consent of the author.

  Edited by Robin Morris

  Follow me on social media to stay up-to-date on new releases, announcements, and prize giveaways!

  www.cassiecoleromance.com

  Books by Cassie Cole

  Broken In

  Drilled

  Five Alarm Christmas

  All In

  Triple Team

  Shared by her Bodyguards

  Saved by the SEALs

  Forbidden Crush

  The Proposition

  1

  Nadia

  “Well?” Braden asked in a deep, reverberating voice. The beautiful man smiled invitingly. “What do you think about my… offer?”

  I approached him cautiously. He wore blue jeans but nothing else, leaving his chiseled chest—and the contours of every bulging muscle—bare for all to see. It was impossible not to stare. His jeans hung loosely on his hips, showing off the v-lines of his pelvis. His face was every bit as scintillating without any effort: messy dark hair above a strong nose, and eyes that were somehow sharp and sensual at the same time. He was everything a woman could want. The kind of guy every woman did want.

  And he was offering me a sexy solution.

  Braden looked at me with lust. Waiting for me to respond to his offer.

  “I don’t know,” I said slowly. “It’s a lot to consider…”

  “What’s there to think about?” he asked in his deep voice. He stepped closer so I could smell his spicy cologne, and his muscles practically jumped off his body as his lungs filled with a deep breath. “My offer’s simple. I pay you $10,000 a week to be mine. To do whatever I say in the bedroom.”

  I made a show of considering it, bulging my eyes and letting my mouth hang open. It was a ridiculous sum of money. More than a woman ought to get for sleeping with someone so gorgeous. Hell, I should be paying him.

  It was tempting. Hell, it was downright tantalizing.

  “I need time to consider…” I began.

  “It’s the money you desperately need,” he insisted. “No one has to know. It would be our little secret.”

  He moved toward me, and I backed away slowly like I was supposed to. Braden’s body was a force all its own, like a hurricane, powerful and unstoppable. Especially to someone like me.

  I reached the edge of the bed, my momentum causing me to sit down. He stepped between my legs and fell forward, planting a corded arm onto the mattress next to my head. Heat practically radiated off of his gorgeous body. A tingle went through my lady-parts as he surrounded me with his wall of muscle.

  “I know you’ve been fantasizing about me,” he crooned. “I can see it in your eyes. You want this just as much as I do.”

  He was right. His offer wasn’t just about money—I’d been pining after him for weeks. Secretly lusting after him whenever I saw him next door. I wanted badly to surrender to his touch, to feel his hand slide away my panties and press between my legs…

  “Tell me,” he boomed, eyes penetrating mine. “Tell me it’s what you want.”

  He leaned in, hard cock pressing through his jeans against my loins. I hated the fabric separating us in that moment, and felt a shiver run through my body. Remembering where I was and what I was doing, I bent my left knee and curled my leg around his body.

  “Yes,” I breathed, lips moving toward his. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

  His perfect lips leaned in to kiss me…

  “End scene!” Director Atkins shouted from the front row. Normally he watched from the technician’s room, but lately he’d been sitting closer so he could give his talkbacks in real-time. It was both helpful and frustrating.

  The lights came back up, revealing our stage. The set was only half-built, which essentially left a mattress on the floor in the middle of the stage with little else surrounding it. The other actors watched from the sidelines, their expressions confusing and unreadable.

  “You,” Director Atkins said, pointing at me. “I can barely hear your lines even though I’m in the front row! How are the people in the back of the theater supposed to know what’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said as Braden rose from the bed. I sat up on the edge and felt my cheeks flush. “I thought I was projecting.”

  “Then project more,” he insisted. “It may seem unnatural, but you need to practically scream into his face for the audience to hear. You’re speaking to them, not him.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again. I glanced at Braden, still shirtless and smiling in front of me. “Can we try it again?”

  “From the top,” Atkins said. “Right after the proposition.”

  Braden went back to his marked spot on the floor and I did the same. My entry point would eventually be a doorway when the set was finished, since I was the one visiting him in the show, but for now I had to use my imagination.

  Which I had no problem doing. Simply being out here in the center of the stage, rather than a backup dancer, filled me with awe. I’d wanted to be a theater actress since I was a little girl and my parents took me to see Cats, and I was finally doing it. I was living the dream.

  At least, I almost was.

  The door at the back of the theater opened. “What is going on?” Tatiana demanded loudly. She wore a white fur coat that doubled her minuscule size, and I could see her glare from here. She marched down the aisle toward the stage like a runway model showing off the newest long-sleeved Valentino.

  “Tatiana…” Director Atkins began.

  She stopped when she was in the front row, and her voice cut like a whip. “Why are you rehearsing the scene without me?”

  Atkins rose from his seat. “You were late. We had to begin rehearsal with your understudy.”

  He should’ve been scolding her, but he wasn’t. His tone was that of a subordinate meekly explaining a situation to an angry boss. The way Tatiana put her hands on her hips and rounded on me, she might as well have been.

  “My understudy?” she said, looking me up and down. Just as quickly, she put me out of her mind. “I am here now. We can begin the proper rehearsal.”

  I smiled awkwardly and shuffled to the back with the other dancers. That was my real role, so long as Tatiana was alive and kicking. A dancer without any lines.

  Atkins made a show of checking his notes. He always did that when Tatiana was late, buying himself a little time to make it seem like he didn’t jump whenever she said to.

  But the act was ruined when he said, “From the top. Tatiana. We’re starting with the—Tatiana?” He looked around. “Where did she go?”

  “Um, backstage,” one of the other actors said.

  “Son of a…” Atkins grumbled as he chased after her. “Nobody move. We’re continuing as soon as I get back.”

  I glanced at Braden, who was already looking at me. We shared a smile together while Tatiana began shouting backstage.

  At least I’d gotten a taste of what true acting was like—and a taste of our show’s hot male lead—even if it was just for a few minutes.

  2

  Nadia

  Opening night for The Proposition was just two months away, and we were totally fucked.

  Most of the problems stemmed from Tatiana, the female lead. She was usually late, and sometimes didn’t show at all. For some reason Director Atkins was terrified of her, so he never scolded h
er or gave her criticism, let alone threatened to cut her from the show the way he would with any other actor. Usually we all waited around until she showed up, or did dry-readings of our lines. And since most of the scenes involved her, all the other actors were behind in their rehearsals. A cascading problem as we slowly ran out of time.

  Those weren’t the only issues. The theater was new—in the sense that it had just been converted into an off-broadway theater. It was previously an abandoned manufacturing building stuck in re-zoning limbo while developers tried to turn it into apartments, until a producer with too much money finally swept in and bought it. It had old wiring, strange smells, and issues with the plumbing almost every day. Not the best working conditions, and certainly awful viewing conditions if they weren’t fixed by opening night.

  But an aspiring actress had to work her way up, building the resume from nothing into something. I was lucky to land a role as a backup dancer, let alone the understudy to the lead. And even though I would never get a chance to replace Tatiana, it was good practice to hone my skill.

  Tonight was the first night Atkins finally used me as the understudy. I’d been practicing my lines religiously in case the night finally came. Five glorious minutes under the spotlight with everyone’s eyes on me. Only the eyes of the other cast members and the crew rather than a proper audience, but still. That single scene with Braden left me feeling lighthearted and gleeful for the rest of the night. And it had nothing to do with a totally hot guy plastering his body against mine in the scene.

  Well, it mostly didn’t have to do with that. I was a professional, but I was still a woman.

  Once Tatiana had changed—a process which took another ten minutes—they rehearsed the same scene. It was the climax of the first act of the musical, when the lead female finally succumbed to the lead male’s proposition. Tatiana delivered her lines with too much drama, like someone in a daytime soap opera. She had no chemistry with Braden, who seemed to cringe as he covered her body with his.

  Or maybe I was just being jealous.

  Sweet baby Jesus, he was hot. A perfect triangular torso leading up to a face made for the movies. Everyone was hot in the business, of course. Fit, too. There was a lot of dancing and track movement in this musical, which required a level of fitness that attracted men who were sculpted like Greek statues. Every guy in the room was easily a New York eight or nine. Dorian, one of the minor cast members I briefly joined arms with and twirled in time with the stage music, wasn’t as jacked as Braden but still had a lithe figure and a gorgeous face. A thimble-sized person could ski down the slopes between his abs, that’s how defined they were.

  The musical number ended, and Director Atkins paused to give stage directions to a few of the cast. Since this was an off-broadway show with a minuscule budget, we didn’t have a dedicated choreographer, dance captain, or musical director. All of that fell onto Director Atkins’ slim shoulders, which was yet another thing that slowed down the rehearsals. I ran through my track—the choreographed movement route—for my next song while we waited, both for practice and because I wanted to look like I was a hardworking member of the cast. I was hardworking, but looking it was just as important as being it. Actors knew that more than anyone.

  Tatiana and Braden had a duet next, a heart-tugging song about the internal struggle their characters were feeling. The lyrics were already cheesy enough, but Tatiana’s delivery put them over the top to the point of parody. Several of the cast exchanged glances while running through our choreography. Everyone’s face said wow, this is bad.

  “Fantastic work Tatiana!” Atkins said when the number was done. “I love how you bellowed the lines from your diaphragm. Singing with your body, not your throat.”

  “Mmm hmm,” she said while glancing at her cell phone.

  Atkins gave stage directions to half a dozen others in the cast—but pointedly not Tatiana, even though her footwork was as sloppy as a drunk woman stumbling home from the bar. Then we did the number again, and a third time after even more feedback. Each time the overall group’s work got tighter and more seamless. I prided myself on nailing it each time without any notes from Atkins.

  Things seemed to be going well, until during the fourth rendition of the song two lights in the hanging trusses malfunctioned. The screws used to rotate them up and down suddenly gave out, causing them to swing uncontrollably, turning the stage into a techno rave party of blue and white. In the back of the theater, one of the techies cursed.

  “Keep going!” Atkins said while motioning with his hand, but Tatiana had already stopped singing and was now crossing her arms.

  “How can anyone work with this distraction? The lights must be fixed before I can go on!”

  Braden stopped singing mid-note and slumped his shoulders. “I was just getting to the part the director said I—”

  “I’m leaving,” Tatiana interrupted, storming off stage.

  “Tatiana, wait! We can…” He gave up and whirled around to face the back of the theater. “Andy! What the fuck is this?”

  A tall man came jogging down the aisle. His blond hair was cut short, and he wore wire-rimmed glasses. “We just set the lights up yesterday. They must have been installed wrong.”

  “Bro, I didn’t fucking install them wrong,” shouted one of the stage hands. He was a bull of a man in a tight tank top, and the scowl was perfectly suited for his handsome face. “I checked them after install, and again before tonight’s rehearsal.”

  “They didn’t just malfunction on their own,” Andy replied.

  Ryan looked all around. “This place is fucking haunted.”

  While they climbed up into the trusses to check the lights, Director Atkins pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Might as well call it a night. Great job everyone, see you again tomorrow. Same time.”

  *

  I went backstage to gather my things along with the rest of the cast. People were clustering into their clicks and making plans to meet up for dinner, or drinks. The gay dancers in one little group, the straight ones in another. The four stage hands were arguing about the malfunctioning light in another corner.

  Me? I was still flying high after my five minutes of fame. Such a small thing to be excited about, but it was still my first real chance since performing in Jesus Christ Superstar in high school. It was important to have milestone’s in one’s career, and as far as I was concerned, this was one worth remembering.

  And if I’m being completely honest? I was still a little flushed from the sexy scene with Braden.

  We didn’t have scenes like that in high school. A gorgeous, shirtless guy covering me with his body. Pressing himself into me, his hard-on impossible to hide. And the look in his eyes said he wasn’t just acting. It was more than that.

  At least, that’s what I told myself.

  The scene left me so hot-and-bothered that I opened the Tinder app on my phone. A friend had convinced me to install it two weeks ago, and I’d swiped right for an hour while drunk, but I never went back to check my matches. A friendly little notification popped up and let me know that I had seven. Now that rehearsal was over I had my real job to go to, but it was tempting to at least get the ball rolling on one or two of these…

  Braden walked backstage. He was still shirtless, and his muscles glistened with sweat from all the movement and dancing. I wasn’t a dumb girl. I knew he was totally out of my league, and I’d accepted that. He’d never even spoken two words to me, or acknowledged my existence, before our scene tonight. With so many other beautiful women around, why would he?

  But his eyes locked onto mine, and he jerked his head up in a greeting and walked straight toward me. I quickly shoved my phone back in my pocket.

  “Hey, uhh…” he said. I realized he was searching for my name. We didn’t exactly wear name tags around here.

  “Hey Braden,” I said to save him from his embarrassment. “Good work tonight.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I was coming to say the same thing to you, actually.”

  My jaw dropped. “You, uh, really?” I said. “I know I need a lot of work…”

  He shook his head and smiled. It was the kind of smile that disarmed women without even trying. “You did much better than the director implied. It felt like a real scene, not just whatever… uh, whatever Tatiana is doing out there.”