Dr. Aubrey Prentice had too many men in her life. Two Billionaires. One millionaire. And one nineteen-year-old landscaper. (Oh, and she had many male patients!) She was a psychiatrist who helped men overcome their sexual addictions, and boy, could she write a book.
In fact, she was writing a book about her male patients.
A book that would include her lovers:
Billionaire #1, who was in federal prison.
Billionaire #2, a dark, scheming alpha.
Her estranged husband, the millionaire.
And yes, her nineteen-year-old gardener.
Oh, what a book this would be!
Right now, she was in her office, reading a letter from her jailbird billionaire (a former senator) who liked to number his letters to Aubrey that he sent from the big house.
It must have been a habit from his Ponzi scheme trial.
This letter read:
Letter # 26: Roman Hayes to Aubrey Prentice
(As filed by Jennifer Mills, Office Assistant)
My Dearest Aubrey:
I have good news.
I’m getting out of prison in six months!
So, thank you for the correspondence. I pass your smut letters around the cell block (I hope you don’t mind; I've redacted your name).
I don’t need the other billionaires here getting any ideas about taking you for themselves.
Although I think you’d like them all.
We’ve all embezzled billions, and we’re all serving our time, but your letters are the highlight of our lives here on cell block seven—no dry sheets in the house after midnight.
I wish you would send some photos, but I know you can’t. It would jeopardize the psychiatry practice I bought for you.
I know about your involvement with billionaire Ian Henshaw III. (Don’t ask me how.) But once I’m back, Ian Henshaw III won’t be the only one with a couple billion bucks in his bank account.
I’ll have to work at getting my money back, though. You know they took it all when I was convicted. But I have enough money in offshore accounts to buy a small country, and I will use it to dick over every bastard who has crossed me. (Including Ian, if he is still in the picture.)
On to other things:
Think about divorcing your husband, Foster. (He only has a couple million. What a pussy.)
I know I introduced you two before my trial began, but that was for your financial security. As you know, I’ll take care of anything you need when I am available, but as I’ve said before, I can’t do much from prison.
By the way, thank you for not getting pregnant with Foster. I will need you to bear my own heirs in the near future.
Won’t that be fun?
If you start working on divorce proceedings now, we could be together in September or October at the latest.
As for Ian Henshaw III, I don’t mind sharing for now (I know you have a penchant for billionaires), but be ready to give him up when I get back into town, or I will destroy him. Then you won’t have a choice but to be with me.
You know you belong to me, don’t you?
As for your psychiatry practice, I like the idea of you writing a book about the sexual habits of derelict fathers, sons, and husbands. You know I can bankroll your publishing if you need me to, but I understand why you want to publish it yourself.
After suffering through your boring relationship with Foster, you want your own money and accomplishments.
Can’t say I blame you.
So what do I get out of the deal?
Hopefully, your devoted admiration of my power and my desire to ruin you for any other man.
Love Eternal,
(Former Senator)
Roman Hayes
Cc: cell block 8
Aubrey read the letter twice. She was deeply in love with the former senator. He had issued her into womanhood when her mother abandoned her. She would always love Roman, but his early prison release complicated things.
Things like her relationship with billionaire Ian Henshaw III.
For a psychiatrist, Ian was a fascinating study. She wasn’t going to give that up. She was falling for him, knowing that it wouldn’t work out to her advantage.
Four men. One multimillionaire, two billionaires, and one teenage landscaper.
The ultimate reverse harem? Or the ultimate downfall?
Her husband, Foster, was no threat. He was a complete groveler, taking orders from Aubrey even though he wasn’t aware of it.
Pussy whipped.
But Calder, the nineteen-year-old, was territorial and strong-willed.
Then there was billionaire Ian, the alpha male, and Roman, the jailbird.
It was all coming to a head, and Aubrey had some decisions to make.
But above all else, Aubrey was dedicated to the psychiatry book she was writing about male deviant sexuality. She needed her reverse harem to work until the book was finished and she had a signed book deal.
If her book was successful, she could tell them all to fuck off and take her young boy-toy gardener away from this.
But if the book didn’t work, Aubrey refused to remain penniless. So she would have to marry one of the billionaires. But which one? The jailbird or the alpha?
And what if she chose wrong? There would be no going back, and she might be jeopardizing her own life in the process.
But those were her choices, and who knew what the future would bring? Men in a reverse harem were dangerous, and they all wanted the same thing: to lay claim to the woman they love.
NO MATTER WHO THEY HURT.
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