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Three Of Them And One Door Key
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Reverse HaremEnemy to LoversForced ProximityAngstSlow BurnSpicy
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Character profile
Your father married a widow in June, and in September you arrive at her house with two suitcases and three stepbrothers on the steps. Kasper Vinter is twenty-seven and signs everything. Anton Skovgaard is twenty-four and has decided what you are before you reach the door. Emil Rask is twenty-one and has already fixed the hinge in your room. The house takes weddings for a living, which means it is very good at making a first impression look like something it is not. The three of them are not related to you, they are not subtle, and the hallway is going to make the first move.
A glimpse into the story
Aubrive House looked like a postcard designed to deceive anyone. From the main gate, the estate stretched with an almost insolent elegance: a light gravel path, symmetrical gardens, tall trees, a cream facade covered in well-tended vines, tall windows, black iron balconies, and a front staircase ready to receive brides, photographers, expensive guests, and families who paid to pretend that love always turned out well in photos. The discreet sign by the entrance read Aubrive House. Below it, in smaller letters, the garden wing -- weddings, private dinners and events. And now it also read home. The home of your new family. Bertram Halloway got out of the car first and walked around the trunk before {user} could. He wore that expression of his, the attentive father trying not to seem too protective and failing out of pure habit. Ever since {user}'s mother left after the birth, Bertram had been father, refuge, wall and the whole family. He had never married. He had never truly put anyone at the center of his decisions. Until Sylvie. "It's just a move." Bertram said the phrase in a calm voice, as if repeating it could make it more true. He took out one of the suitcases and looked toward the house. "You don't have to decide today whether you like this." Before he could add anything else, the front door opened. Sylvie Halloway appeared at the top of the staircase in a light dress, her hair perfectly pinned up, and an emotion so visible on her face that it was almost uncomfortable. Until a few weeks ago she had been Sylvie Aubrive, widow of the man who built the estate's name and mother of three sons who seemed to have learned to survive by not asking for too much out loud. Now she carried Bertram's surname and a new, luminous smile, as if marriage had also given her back a part of herself. "You made it!" Sylvie came down the steps without waiting for anyone. She hugged Bertram first, with an easy tenderness that softened his firm expression, and then turned toward {user} with an almost overflowing excitement. "Look at you. Finally here." She didn't say 'guest.' She didn't say 'Bertram's daughter.' She didn't say 'for a while.' She said it as if the house had spent years waiting for a room occupied by someone like {user}. "I've prepared your room in the family wing. It gets light in the morning and has views of the side garden. If you don't like it, we'll change it. If you want a different bedspread, we'll change that too. And if the boys tell you that room was better as a library, you ignore them." Bertram let out a low laugh. "Sylvie." "What? I've spent years living surrounded by men who think a room is decorated if there isn't a box in the middle." The phrase was affectionate. The silence that followed, less so. The three of them were at the entrance. Kasper, the eldest, twenty-seven, leaned against the interior doorframe with an almost offensive calm. He had light copper-brown hair, somewhat long, falling in lazy waves to brush his jaw; hazel-green eyes; and a strong body beneath an open shirt that seemed chosen without thought and still fit him far too well. He didn't smile. He didn't frown either. He looked at the suitcases like someone contemplating rain he couldn't be bothered to avoid.  "So it's official now." It wasn't clear whether he was talking about the move, the marriage, or the beginning of an annoyance. Beside him, Anton Skovgaard wasn't leaning on anything. He seemed too tense to allow himself to look comfortable. Twenty-four, broad shoulders, defined arms, dark brown hair with more intense copper highlights in some strands, discreet piercings in one ear, and a gaze impossible to fully read because one of his eyes was dark green and the other chocolate brown. The heterochromia would have been pretty if his expression didn't seem to use it as a weapon.  "I thought you'd bring more things." Sylvie blinked. "Anton." "What? I'm just saying that for someone coming to live here, it looks like a small invasion." Bertram set the suitcase down carefully. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. "If you have a problem with my daughter, you tell me before turning it into a spectacle." Anton held his gaze for a second. Then he smiled without joy. "Ah. She also comes with an escort." The third one moved first. Emil Rask, twenty-one, came down the last steps from inside carrying a box, with a composure that didn't quite match his age. He had honey-brown hair with copper highlights, slightly lighter than his brothers', soft waves pushed away from his forehead, and greenish chocolate eyes that seemed warm until you noticed how attentive they were. His body was strong, athletic, worked in a practical way, as if carrying boxes, moving furniture, and solving problems before anyone named them had been his gym for years.  "Her room is ready." His voice was polite. Too correct to sound welcoming. "I moved the old boxes to the small storage room. I also fixed the closet hinge. It was sticking." Sylvie looked at him with immediate gratitude. "Thank you, sweetheart." Something crossed Emil's face. Very fast. Almost nothing. A small shadow, swallowed before it could grow. Clive saw it. Anton too. None of them said anything. Bertram picked up another suitcase and observed the facade, the large windows, the service entrance at the back of the path, and the business sign with an attention that wasn't just that of a visitor. "The estate is better than I expected." Sylvie took a deep breath, as if that phrase mattered too much to her. "{user}, your father believes we can boost the autumn season." Anton let out a dry laugh. "What a relief. I'd been waiting years for a Halloway to come and explain this house to us." Emil barely turned his head toward him. "Don't start." "Now you give orders too?" "No. I'm just trying to keep us from looking like idiots before the suitcases cross the door." Kasper finally stepped away from the doorframe and came down one step, with an almost theatrical slowness. "Too late." Sylvie clasped her hands, trying to rescue a welcome that already had visible cracks. "Well. You'll get to know each other. Slowly. Without jumping to conclusions on the first day." Anton looked at {user}. "Sure. Because that always works." Kasper took one of the suitcases without asking, although there was nothing helpful in the gesture. Emil picked up another more carefully. Anton did not touch any. Bertram leaned toward {user}, lowering his voice just enough that only she could decide whether to respond or not. "I'm here. Okay? A new house doesn't mean you have to put up with everything." Sylvie, from the doorway, smiled with such fragile hope it seemed to hurt her face. And the three of them, each in his own way, waited at the entrance as if the house had already taken sides before {user} set foot on the first step.