Mr. Temptation

by Rachael Stewart

  Her words were crushing him. ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘Why? It’s the truth.’

  ‘It’s not.’ He reached for her and shrank back as she sidestepped his move, her eyes staring daggers at his outstretched hand.

  ‘Please, Zara, it will all be forgotten about soon enough, yesterday’s news.’

  ‘For you, maybe.’ Her words trembled, the sound making his throat ache. ‘But I wanted to do this on my own, I wanted to show that bastard that I didn’t need a man, that I didn’t need anyone to make the business a success. Instead I’ve shown him the exact opposite.’

  ‘No, you haven’t.’

  ‘Haven’t I?’ She looked at him then, the self-hatred in her gaze tearing right through him. ‘I might as well have prostituted myself to save my company for all I’ve done with you.’

  ‘Kristus, Zara, stop this.’ He grabbed at her chin as she would have looked away. ‘Please,’ he urged into her eyes.

  ‘Stop what? Telling you the truth?’ She held her chin high in his hold. ‘Didn’t you tell me yourself that you would extend your requirements to keep employing me, to keep paying me so that we could continue to fuck?’

  He felt the blood drain from his face, his hand falling away. Her vulgar dismissal of the time they’d shared crushing him.

  ‘Oh, come on, Daniel,’ she scoffed. ‘Don’t look so horrified. It was always just about the sex—you were always so quick to remind me of that.’

  Around them people stirred, their argument drawing attention despite their lowered tones. He needed them out of there so that they could talk properly, so he could tell her how he felt.

  And how do you feel, exactly?

  It was one thing to second-guess, but another to know, and what experience did he have to base that knowledge on?

  Hell, just be honest with her. It’s a start. It’s better than this.

  ‘I wanted to talk—’

  ‘Oh, save it,’ she said, polishing off her drink and placing the glass back on the side. ‘There’s no need, I’m not backing you into a corner. We’ve both had our fun and I’m grateful to you for helping me see past Charles’ negativity in the bedroom department. I mean, Christ, if I can keep the infamous Swedish bachelor hooked for as long as I have, there has to be something about me—right?’

  She gave a harsh laugh, the hardness reflected in her eyes as they came back to him with force. ‘But now I’m all about the future, something you’re not, so if you’d be so kind as to deal with my assistant from now on, I’ll bid you goodbye.’

  He reached out, his hand on her arm to stop her when she would’ve moved away. ‘You’re leaving?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She tried to peel away his hand but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—let her go. ‘Don’t do this, Zara.’

  ‘What?’ She flared then, her composure cracking. ‘What do you want from me?’

  His hand fell away at the anguish in her face. She was angry, but it was pain that rode above it. And he’d done that to her.

  ‘I want you,’ he said softly, pleading with her to understand.

  ‘Want isn’t enough, Daniel.’ She raised her head, her eyes locked with his. ‘And I don’t want you any more.’

  He was struck dumb. The truth in her words hitting home and taking the very life out of him.

  You’re too late.

  And then she came alive, her lashes fluttering as she gave a gentle shake of her head and turned away. ‘Goodbye, Daniel.’

  He watched her go, the room closing in behind her and his future with it.

  * * *

  Zara pinned her sights on the exit.

  Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

  The tears were building hard and fast, the wedge in her throat threatening to come unstuck. She needed to escape before anyone caught her, before she truly made a fool of herself.

  She made it out into the foyer, halfway to the exit, she was almost—

  ‘Leaving so soon?’

  ‘Fuck,’ she swore under her breath, stilling mid-stride.

  ‘You know, I took you for many things, Zara, darling, but never a whore.’

  A whore?

  Her blood boiled, her sadness drowned out on a wave of rage as she turned to face a red-tinged Charles, her palm itching to swing for him. ‘I have nothing to say to you.’

  She made for the exit. He wasn’t worth creating a scene for; he wasn’t worth anything to her any more. He was just a sad little man who no longer had any hold over her. She thrust open the door and strode out into the evening, realising too late that he was hot on her tail, his hand reaching for her arm and pulling her to the wall.

  ‘Let go of me, Charles.’

  ‘You never used to mind me touching you,’ he said, his face so close that she could smell his alcohol-tainted breath, could see a wildness to his eyes.

  Christ, was he drunk? He hadn’t seemed drunk inside.

  She shook her head. ‘If you don’t back away, I’m going to make a scene.’

  She eyed the pavement, the few people hovering, the odd journalist out taking a break.

  He stepped towards her, forcing her back against the hotel wall. His eyes raked over her, their depths blazing. Fear clenched her throat tight and she raised her palms to his chest, pushing against his unrelenting form. ‘Please, Charles, stop.’

  Suddenly he shifted, his eyes widening momentarily before he flew away from her, his feet struggling to remain grounded on the pavement.

  ‘The lady said to back off.’

  Zara focused through the fear-filled daze, a raging Daniel consuming her vision, his expression unrecognisable as his eyes flashed dangerously on Charles.

  ‘What is it, playboy?’ Charles challenged, all drunken arrogance now that he’d recovered his stance. ‘You going to fight her corner? Your latest slapper going to draw you into a fight? I don’t think so.’

  He laughed at his own joke, rolling his shoulders as he moved to step past them and then Daniel moved, so swiftly she couldn’t judge his intent until it was too late, his fist making cracking contact with Charles’ jaw. He flew back to the ground his hand coming up, his face slackened and distorted with pain, with anger, with humiliation.

  Daniel stood over him, his shoulders heaving, his rage palpable and all Zara could do was watch, her body quivering, the same realisation she’d had inside, when he’d faced Charles off, flooding her anew and bringing terror rushing with.

  She loved him.

  And for a silly deluded second, when he’d come to her defence, she’d believed he loved her too. Had got caught up in the moment. Had believed she wasn’t just another girl. It wasn’t just sex.

  And then reality hit and she realised she needed to escape. To get away from him. From Charles. From everything that tore her heart in two.

  And yet, here they both were, refusing to let her go.

  Well, fuck that.

  She turned and started walking, ignoring the curious looks of passers-by, the calls from Daniel as he took up chase. She walked as fast as her heels would permit.

  ‘Zara, wait up, please, we need to talk.’

  He came up behind her, his hands reaching out for her shoulder, and she ducked him. She couldn’t risk his touch, knowing how it would make her feel, how it would crush her resolve so easily. ‘No amount of talking is going to change my mind. I can’t do this any more.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Please, Daniel,’ she begged into his wavering gaze, his confusion beating down into her. ‘I just want to go home.’

  ‘At least let me take you—let Peters take you?’ he said, his hands thrusting into his pockets. ‘I need to know you get home safely.’

  Behind them, she could hear Charles’ raised voice, the mutterings of several others that had joined him and the scene that was bu
ilding.

  Christ, what a night.

  It wasn’t just her that needed out, it was Daniel too. The press were going to be on this imminently. Her need to protect him had her nodding. ‘Call Peters, get him to meet us at Victoria Bus Station.’

  He looked over his shoulder, to the swelling group outside the hotel, and understood her meaning. With a nod, he placed a hand in the small of her back to usher her forward and, again, she stepped out of his hold. Moving with him but pretending he didn’t exist. She just needed to get home. Then she could let go. Let it all out and deal with the mess she had made of her life. Again.

  She’d rebuilt it before, she could do it this time too.

  Couldn’t she?

  Her heart squeezed tight in her chest, pain like nothing she’d ever experienced piercing her and sending her step faltering.

  He reached out, steadying her, the warmth of his hand permeating her skin, her belly, her heart. ‘Steady, baby.’

  Baby—the endearment taunted her.

  It wasn’t her life that needed rebuilding, it was her heart, and it was in tatters.

  She’d thought she’d been in love with Charles. The very idea was now laughable in light of how she felt for the man beside her. The man who’d made it clear he could never give her what her heart now craved.

  Well, you only have yourself to blame, said her inner conscience, and she wrapped her arms tighter around her middle, her pace picking up to increase the distance between them.

  The sooner she got away from him, the better.

  * * *

  They sat in silence in the back of the car, each hugging their own side, the cabin filled with the heavy strain of the scene they had left behind. He’d tried to speak to her, but she’d refused. And he got that she didn’t want to talk but, hell, he had so many burning questions, the biggest of all he couldn’t even bring himself to ask. Fear of what she might say keeping it trapped inside.

  But he couldn’t stand it any more and he found himself apologising. ‘I’m sorry I hit him.’

  ‘He deserved it,’ she said quietly, her eyes still on the window, her tear-streaked face illuminated intermittently under the passing street lights.

  Fuck, this was killing him.

  He needed to know.

  Was she upset with him? Or was it really Charles? Had she loved the man that much? Was she still in love with him?

  Bile rose to the back of his throat and he forced it down, courage failing him.

  ‘I’m sorry if it ends up front-page news tomorrow.’

  ‘I couldn’t give a fuck what the press make of it,’ he retorted, emotion getting the better of him. ‘The bastard did deserve that punch and I’ll make sure any reporter that listens knows it.’

  She looked to him then, properly for the first time since it had all gone south, her sad smile a thousand times more poignant with the water welling once more beneath her eyelids. His heart ached and he reached for her on instinct, but she recoiled into her seat, her face and body turning away, everything rejecting him.

  The nausea swelled in his gut; he was losing her.

  Hell, you’ve already lost her.

  He leant back into his seat, his own eyes turning unseeingly on his own window, confusion raining thick and heavy on his senses.

  Is this what life will feel like without her in it? As if something’s missing?

  Was this what it felt like to truly care for someone? To actually love someone...

  He looked across at her, broken and curled into her seat, and inside he cracked, his fists clenching in his lap.

  Ja, you love her, and just look where that’s got her. Not so good at escaping your parents’ example now, are you?

  Kristus—he was no better than Charles. And she’d actually loved him. The lucky bastard had had it all and thrown it away.

  Whereas he’d never even given them a chance. How could he convince her he had changed, that she had changed him?

  ‘Zara?’ He barely recognised his own voice, its strangled quality alien even to him.

  Slowly, she turned to look at him, the trail of tears upon her cheeks wrenching him in two.

  He swallowed, the words catching in his throat. He’d never done this before. He didn’t even know where to begin.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you tonight, after the party. It had always been my intention,’ he began and took an unsteady breath, looking for courage that he didn’t feel. Somehow voicing it made it feel ever more real and the vulnerability that came with it terrified him. He’d never been more scared, or so desperate. ‘I know we’ve not had the best start to a relationship and I know I’ve said and done a lot of things that I’m not proud of.’

  Her lower lip trembled and she clutched her arms around her tighter, but she didn’t stop him.

  ‘And I know nothing of this, not really, but I think I’m falling in love with you and if you—’

  ‘You think?’ She gave a tremulous little laugh. ‘Please, Daniel, don’t go there.’

  Of all the reactions he’d envisaged, her laughing wasn’t one. ‘I’m trying to be honest with you.’

  She shook her head. ‘You’re trying to keep me any way you can.’

  She sounded tired, done in, and then her gaze swept back to the window as her words echoed around the cabin. ‘You’re confusing desire with love.’

  He swept towards her, one arm hooking around her waist to draw her in and she came willingly, her body falling into his.

  It was a start.

  ‘Desire is something I know plenty about, and this is more than that.’

  Gently he nudged her chin up and their gazes locked, her voice whisper-like. ‘I wish I could believe it.’

  ‘You can.’

  Beneath them the car nudged gently to a stop and he realised they were here, at her place, and any moment she would be gone.

  ‘Don’t go,’ he rasped, his arms tightening around her. ‘Give me the chance to prove it.’

  ‘I have to go,’ she said softly. ‘I can’t do this with you.’

  He could see the truth of her words in her face, knew that any argument he could give would fall on deaf ears. He’d spent so long convincing her—hell, the world, even—that he wasn’t capable of love, that she couldn’t see past the facade.

  Behind her, Peters opened the door and he slipped his arm from around her, letting her go, his words doing anything but. ‘I’m not giving up on us.’

  She dropped her gaze, her breath shaky as she slid away. ‘Goodbye, Daniel... I mean it this time.’

  And then she was gone, and his life emptied out, his insides carved hollow. In that second, he’d never been more convinced or more scared of something in his life: his love for her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘I THINK WE need to change the office number,’ EJ muttered as she brushed through her office doorway, two coffees in hand.

  Zara looked up from the property details she’d been poring over for the last hour, nothing making sense. It was a one-bed studio, not some mansion, and yet it might as well have been Buckingham Palace for the amount of time it was taking. ‘They’re still calling?’

  ‘Yup.’ EJ set the coffee down and grimaced. ‘Brings a new meaning to not taking no for an answer.’

  She felt a pang of guilt. It was enough that she was being hounded, tailed on an almost daily basis, the intrigue her brief outing with Daniel had sparked still burning strong after three weeks of no contact. Not from her at any rate.

  She sat back in her seat and took in the fresh bouquet that had arrived that morning. She hadn’t had chance to share this one out among the staff yet.

  ‘The press aren’t the only ones,’ EJ mused, spying her focus and bringing Zara’s gaze back to her.

  ‘He’s just not used to dealing with the word.’

  ‘You think that’s al
l it is?’ EJ arched a brow over her coffee cup, taking a sip as she watched her, concern softening her penetrative blues. It wasn’t as if Zara looked a mess, but there was only so much make-up could do to hide the bags under her eyes, the reddened rims, not to mention the fact that she was sporting an ice-cream-fuelled swell.

  ‘Of course it is.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ EJ said, looking back to the flowers and letting out a contemplative breath. ‘Seems to me the whole reason the press are on it so bad is because he’s so quiet, not a story in sight, not since he decked Shit-Bag and, let’s face it, the man had that coming.’

  A bittersweet smile touched Zara’s lips, the memory of Daniel’s defence of her warming her through, and then the tide of pain hit, as it always did.

  It doesn’t mean he loves you, no matter what he says to the contrary.

  ‘Sorry,’ EJ said, pulling her out of the abyss she spent far too much time in these days. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, I just—I don’t know, maybe there’s more to how he feels for you too. Maybe you should, you know, just talk to him.’

  Zara took up her mug and sipped at it. It was the same conversation they’d had every day this past week, and every day she said the same. She couldn’t trust herself to speak to him and not cave, dive in wholeheartedly and come out broken when he eventually decided he’d had enough.

  It was better to have ended it now, before she fooled herself into believing they had a future, before she got so wrapped up in their life together... She didn’t think she could survive that level of heartache.

  ‘He’s coming in today.’

  ‘What?’ Zara’s eyes snapped to hers. ‘When?’

  ‘In about an hour,’ EJ said, a hesitant smile curving her lips, her brow raised in hope.

  Zara’s heart hit her throat, tension throbbing through every muscle. ‘Why?’

  ‘He’s collecting the keys for the Mayfair place.’

  ‘That was quick.’

  EJ shrugged. ‘What can I say? When you have a dedicated legal team and you’re working with us, what’s to delay it?’