Tempted: A Standalone Billionaire Boss Romance

by Ava Harrison

  As she speaks of titles and family obligations, it feels like an invisible noose tightens around my neck, cutting off my blood flow. I tug at the collar of my Armani dress shirt, allowing more oxygen to rush into my lungs.

  Fuck the title. Fuck the responsibilities. Fuck the obligations.

  I haven’t asked for them, I’m not ready for them, and I have a feeling I never will be.

  To most people, home is where they go back to in order to recharge.

  To me, home is filled with bad memories and sorrow. My father may have died years ago, but I still hate going to the estate, even if it is mine now.

  Many years passed before I was able to claim my inheritance and my title after his death, but luckily for me, as I was escaping the responsibilities of my youth, my mother was running the everyday aspects of our estate.

  The title was something I never wanted any part of.

  Tainted by a memory of my father and the man he was.

  He died when I was young, but I still remember the yelling, the drinking.

  He was rarely around, but when he was, Mother would tell me to go to my room. I wouldn’t listen to her, though. Instead, I would creep down the stairs . . .

  And that was when I would hear him yell and her wail.

  Then one day, I was sent away to boarding school and only came home occasionally for visits.

  So no, being the Earl of Lockhart was always bittersweet.

  “I know what my responsibilities are, Mother.” My eyes close of their own accord, images flashing that, even now, I don’t want to see. I shake my head and banish the mental pictures of my father aside.

  “Then start acting like it,” she grits out, and the words are enough to snap me out of my haze and replace the sadness with anger.

  Yes, I love my mother, but she knows how to push my buttons. “I’m always careful, and I’m diligent about avoiding the paparazzi,” I bite back. If there is one thing my mum can’t fault me for, it’s my need for discretion, so the fact she’s harping on this infuriates me.

  “Being an earl is more than just avoiding being photographed looking like an arse,” my mum retorts. “I need you here to help take care of family business.”

  “I do take care of family business . . . here. Since I have taken over the finances in London, I have doubled our wealth.”

  “It’s not always about money. I need you here dealing with something else.” When I let out an audible puff of breath rather than pressing her, she continues, “The Prices are up to something.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Mum. No one has touched the land in . . . well, ever.”

  She scoffs as though she’s speaking to an irritating child. “I have it on good authority, there is an appointment, and that James Price is coming into town, Oliver. What do you make of that?”

  I don’t humor her with a response.

  “Stop acting like your father. Your gallivanting and drinking are worrisome enough, but the women . . .”

  Her words hit their intended mark because my father has always been a sore spot.

  He was a drunk, and what he put us both through was more than I cared to think about. If my mum’s intention was to make me feel like a complete and utter wanker, she succeeded.

  “I need you here, Oliver,” she says again, her voice breaking this time. “I can’t see that man. Price ruined my life.”

  “What are you going on about?”

  My mother doesn’t sound like herself. It actually sounds like she might be crying, but that can’t be. I’ve never seen her cry. My mother has never shown emotions like that.

  “Are you crying?” I ask.

  “Everything happened because of him,” she mumbles away from the phone, and I’m not even sure she’s talking to me. I know she hates the Prices, and I know it’s the only land of the original entail property she has never been able to buy back, but why would that have ruined her life? So what if the property was passed down from generation to generation through the act of entailing it to the male heir?

  The notion is ridiculous in this day in age.

  “Mum, what happened? And because of who?”

  “Just come home, okay?”

  Her voice has me rattled, so I let out a sigh because as much as I don’t want to leave London, I have to. Out of habit, I pull out my lucky coin. The one I acquired from the headmaster during my first year of boarding school.

  At a time when my life was shit, I hated my dad, and I believed in nothing.

  “Not everything needs to be chance. We can make our own luck,” he had said and then placed the coin in my hand with a wink.

  I flip it once in the air.

  Heads.

  Home it is.

  Duty calls, after all. No matter how much I fight it, I know I need to do what’s right.

  For my family.

  For my title.

  “I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Two

  Addison

  One day earlier . . .

  My fingers tap rhythmically on the keyboard. Early morning correspondence is a necessary evil, so someone has to do it.

  After I respond to the last email from this morning, I stretch my arms to the ceiling, letting my palms open and close and moving my fingers around to get the feeling back. I need coffee and a break.

  I close out the window on my computer and load a news site instead. Jasmine won’t be here for another thirty minutes. Jax and Grayson aren’t here either, so I might as well see what’s happening in the world.

  As soon as the website loads, I realize the mistake I’ve made.

  Picture after picture.

  There they are. The one thing I was trying to forget is screaming back at me. I told myself to lie low and try to forget.

  I told myself I was strong enough to attend my ex’s wedding.

  But how could I ever think that? This weekend has been haunting my every moment. Even if I tried to pretend it hasn’t.

  I’ve known this day was coming, but with my extensive business travel, I have kept preoccupied long enough for it to actually escape my mind. Now, being back in New York, I realize my mistake and know I shouldn’t be here. I should still be lying low. I lied to myself, thinking I’d be okay when the time came. Now looking at the words and the photos, I know I won’t be.

  “Hotelier Spencer Lancaster to marry supermodel turned successful model scout Olivia Miller this weekend.”

  Quickly, I close the page, but it’s too late. Unfortunately, the images of the happy couple have burned my retinas. How Spencer Lancaster’s handsome face looks adoringly at his fiancée.

  I’ll never be able to undo it.

  Emotions bubble inside me as the feelings I had pushed down rise to the surface. Before I can stop myself, I refresh the screen and bring the image back up. Why am I doing this?

  Everything blurs in front of me. My lungs burn, and a suppressed sob lodges itself in my throat. Lifting my hand, I run the pads of my fingers on my skin and find them dampened by the tears that must have escaped.

  With a deep breath, I walk into the bathroom in my office and stare at my reflection. From the unobservant eye, I might look fine. My brown wavy locks are perfectly blown out, and my makeup is flawless, but for someone who knows me, who really knows me, they’d know.

  Spencer would know.

  My eyes are flat.

  I can’t let anyone see me. I’ve worked so damn hard for everyone to take me seriously. Having spent my life in a man’s world, I might not have had to kick and scream my way to the top, but I still had to prove I could lead like my father and not let my emotions get in the way. In the end, through hard work and perseverance, Grayson and I both took over. I’m the CEO, and Grayson is the CFO of Price Enterprise. Jaxson, our youngest brother, is the COO.

  The truth is, after a bunch of mistakes in my early years, I realized I didn’t want to be that girl who let a man dictate her life, but that was another lie I told myself. Because, all it took was one online headline, one damn
article, for everything I have built to fall apart around me. Every wall around my heart to crumble.

  No. I can’t fall. Not here. Not now. They can’t see me—not my brothers and not my employees.

  Turning on the water, I grab a towel and dab my face, making sure to wipe away any remaining smudged makeup. I freshen myself and pull my shoulders back.

  Cool and collected Addison Price.

  It only takes another moment, but now, back in front of my desk, I check the time. Jasmine should be here now but not Jax and Gray. I might be able to get out of here before they realize.

  I need to go somewhere.

  Get out of this damn city.

  My brothers will expect my presence at the wedding if I’m in town. They will expect me to smile and cheer.

  I can’t, though, so I have no choice but to leave.

  But where?

  Sitting back in front of my computer, I pull up my files and rummage through the properties. Where can I go? I need to leave under the guise of working because I can’t let anyone know. I’m a strong woman, and I won’t allow any man to bring me to my knees like this. At least not publicly.

  No. If I get out of here and leave the country to “work,” I’ll be away from the discerning eyes of the people who know me best and have time to rein in my emotions. The plan is solid, but now I need to figure out where I’m going.

  Picking up my phone, I dial the intercom. “Jasmine, can you please come into my office?”

  “Of course,” she says through the line. A few seconds later, she walks in wearing a smile on her face. She stops midway into my office, and her smile fades, a frown replacing it as she takes me in.

  Jasmine has been my assistant for a few years now, but before that, she was an intern. We met during a speaking engagement I gave to an NYU graduating class of women. I spoke of empowering women in business over lunch, and when she asked me a list of very pointed and discerning questions, I was instantly impressed. I offered her a position during dessert.

  We bonded instantly, and before long, I promoted her to my assistant. But she’s so much more than that, and when she looks at me right now with her chocolate eyes narrowed and her head cocked, I know she sees past it all.

  She sees my pain.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I lie. “I just wanted to tell you I’m going away on business.”

  She steps farther into the room, closer to where I’m sitting behind my imposing desk. If she gets any closer, she’ll know for sure.

  “When?” Her jaw twitches as she waits for my answer.

  “Today. Soon.”

  A fine line forms between her brows as she continues to stare at me, and I know she knows I’m lying.

  “What business?”

  Since I have no idea yet, I falter.

  “What’s going on?” she asks.

  “Close the door,” I say as I cover my face with my hands.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I will my heart to stop beating so fast. I really don’t want to lose my cool at the office, but I need to talk to someone, and Jasmine has proven herself loyal time and time again. Having her know and understand will help me.

  “Spencer is getting married this weekend,” I say with my eyes still closed. I was clearly in denial, thinking maybe something would happen or maybe it would come and I wouldn’t care . . .

  I was wrong on both accounts.

  I open my eyes and see her sitting in the chair in front of me, her eyes watching my every move.

  “I know.”

  Everyone knows.

  “I’m going out of town,” I say again.

  “I understand. Where are you going to go?” she asks, leaning on my desk and resting her hands on the surface.

  “I’m not sure yet. All I know is Grayson and Jax can’t know why I’m leaving town.”

  “Don’t you think your brothers are smarter than you give them credit for?”

  “Well, of course, but if I can give them a plausible reason . . .”

  “And what would be plausible?” She cocks her head, and I let out a sigh.

  I have no idea. So much for a well-thought-out plan.

  “Surveying a property?” Jasmine responds before I can come up with an idea.

  “Okay. That could work. Hmm. What are some of our clients looking for?” I ask.

  Jasmine stands, and I watch as she struts out of my office. A minute later, she returns to the same chair, but this time with an iPad on her lap. She starts to move her hand around. “Blue Coast Industries is looking for a commercial spot to build their new headquarters.”

  I shake my head. “Still in America. Too close.” I can still see the news in America. The truth of the internet means I can see the news anywhere . . .

  A shudder works its way through my body at the thought.

  I just won’t go online.

  Jasmine tracks my movements with a nod. “Okay, America is out. Any other prerequisites?”

  “Someplace off the beaten path maybe. I need quiet, but I also need to be able to work.”

  “Got it.”

  I watch as her eyes widen.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she says too quickly, and I know she’s holding back.

  “Tell me, Jasmine.” My hands twist beneath my desk, waiting to hear what she has to say.

  “The Lancasters are looking to build a new line of hotels . . .”

  I let out a long-drawn-out and completely melodramatic groan. The Lancasters. Will I ever be rid of him? “No!”

  “Just hear me out.” She lifts her hand passively, so I nod for her to continue. “You want your brothers to think you don’t care? You want them to think you aren’t hiding? This is your perfect cover story. If you cared, would you be working for him?”

  I think about what she suggests, and as much as I hate to admit it, it makes sense. “Okay,” I mutter reluctantly. “What are they looking for?”

  “These will be very exclusive luxury estates. Cities are off-limits.”

  “So we need a big piece of property on the beach or in the country. What do we have available? Not in America,” I say because if I’m going to be traveling under the guise of work, I want to be far, far away from Lancaster, even if he’s my cover story.

  “There are a few in Spain and France.”

  “What else?” I shake my head; too many memories exist in both countries with Spencer. He has hotels on my properties there. Jasmine continues to type and swipe.

  “Hmm. This one actually might be perfect.”

  “Where is it?” I ask, leaning forward on my desk.

  “Wiltshire,” she responds as she turns her iPad to me. There’s no image on the iPad—just words that I can’t make out from where I’m sitting.

  “Where?”

  “Wiltshire. England. Cows. Green hills. Hot Brits. You know.”

  “Really?” I had no idea we even had property in Wiltshire. Hell, I don’t even know where Wiltshire is.

  “Apparently, it was one of your father’s first purchases, but he never built on it. It wasn’t even in the portfolio.”

  “I wonder why,” I say out loud, but then it hits me. If it was Dad’s first, he wouldn’t have touched it. He was nostalgic like that. Me, not so much.

  “Doesn’t say. But there is no price attached to the land, so maybe he inherited it.”

  I shrug. I’ll have to ask Mom one day. “Tell me about this property.”

  Jasmine spends the next forty minutes discussing the area, and by the time she’s done, I decide it’s exactly where I need to go. The property is a little over two hours outside of London, so there’s no way I’ll see any newspaper articles regarding the wedding, and since I have sworn off googling him, it shouldn’t be a problem.

  “That’s where I’m going. It’s perfect. If Gray asks, it makes sense . . .” I say more to myself than to her.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Book me a place.”

  “Got
it.” She types again, probably a note for herself on her to-do list. She loves making lists. “When do we leave?”

  Her comment makes me cock my head to the side and look at her. “I’m going by myself.”

  She rolls her eyes at me.

  “What?” I shrug.

  “You never travel to locations without me. You don’t think that will be a red flag?”

  She’s right, and I hate that she’s right. Any other time, I would just say I need to get away, but since I never get away, and since this trip coincides with the weekend of the wedding—a wedding my brothers are going to—I have to make this believable. I always travel with my small team on business, so I’ll have to take them.

  “Fine, book us a place. Tell Marcus to come too,” I say. Marcus, my driver, doubles as security if we are ever in an unsafe location, but seeing as this is not that type of trip, I’m really bringing them both for show.

  With the mood I’m in, I’ll probably check out the property once and spend the rest of the weekend sequestered in my room with a pint of ice cream.

  Then, when the coast is clear, and Spencer is off on his honeymoon, and some new gossip litters the pages of Expose, I’ll fly home and pretend none of it happened.

  It’s a solid plan.

  What can go wrong?

  ***

  A lot can go wrong.

  A ton.

  Every single thing, actually.

  I thought that leaving New York would silence the voices in my head, but it didn’t. I still remember how I hurt him. I still feel the regret and guilt for how I treated him, and I still remember the pain of seeing him with her.

  Years later, I know I was never the right person for Spencer. I know he’s meant to be with Olivia, and while a part of me is happy for him, a part of me I don’t like to think about is also jealous of that happiness. Jealous he was able to move on, and I haven’t.

  Instead, I’m torturing myself with endless thoughts of all the what-ifs, and my brain is firing rapidly, screaming at me to check the internet, but I know I can’t. That would be stupid.

  Heading downstairs, I see Marcus and Jasmine in the kitchen. “I’m going out,” I say before I can stop myself.