Scandalous Box Set

by Layla Valentine

  I nodded.

  “I won’t let you down, Edward,” I said.

  Moments later I was back in the hallway, striding toward my office. And as soon as I stepped through the door a thought hit me—I was going to need someone to come with me.

  There was Sandy, of course. I was sure she’d be up for the task. But with the news of her pregnancy, the last thing I wanted to do was subject her to a strenuous trip to the other side of the equator. Not to mention I was sure she’d like a little time to enjoy the good news with her fiancé.

  But who to accompany me?

  It hit me the moment I dropped into my chair.

  I’d need someone smart, someone capable, maybe even someone who already knew the ins and outs of the situation in Rio. And there was only one other person who fit the bill.

  Isla.

  It’d be perfect. She’d already proven herself to be the perfect fit for the task.

  There was, however, the matter of how badly I’d screwed things up between us. I’d assumed that the damage I’d caused was irreparable, that I might as well forget that she even existed.

  Well, I’d learned how impossible that task was proving to be.

  I leaned forward and drummed my fingers on my desk, Edward-style. Maybe the situation wasn’t totally hopeless. Maybe there was a chance I could reach out to her and enlist her help. Sure, maybe she’d tell me to screw off—and I wouldn’t blame her one bit.

  But maybe she’d jump at the opportunity, just as she’d done before.

  There was nothing to do but ask her. Not only because she was the right woman for the job, but because I wasn’t about to let her go without at least trying to reach out to her and make things right. If she said no it would be hard, but maybe it would be exactly what I needed to finally put her out of my mind.

  I looked up her number in the employee database, finding that she was still based in the LA office, and still at the same position. Her number in front of me, my heart pounding, I dialed it in and prepared to call.

  Right at the moment I was going to hit “dial” however, I had a second thought. If I were to call, there was an excellent chance she’d simply hang up as soon as she realized who it was.

  No, I needed some other angle, some way that would allow me to get out what I wanted to say, and to be able to choose my words carefully. I couldn’t afford to mess this up the way I did last time.

  My eyes tracked over on the database, over to Isla’s email.

  Perfect.

  I set down my phone and opened my email client. Once it was open, her address in the bar, my fingers began moving almost on their own accord.

  Isla—

  I know it’s been a long while since we’ve spoken. And I know that the circumstances the last time we were together were less than ideal.

  ‘Less than ideal.’ Look at me speaking like a CEO and not a person.

  They were terrible. I don’t know how else to put it, but I screwed up—badly. I was careless with your feelings, selfish, cruel. And for that, I don’t know what else to say other than that I’m truly, deeply sorry.

  I know that you’ve gone out of your way to not be near me, and I completely understand. But even though months have gone by, I can’t stop thinking about you, can’t stop thinking about how I could possibly make things right between us. The odds are slim, I know, but I have to try.

  I have a proposal. The situation in Rio has escalated to the point where I’ve decided to travel down to the factory myself and set things right. It’ll be hard work, but I’m sure it can be done. However, as soon as the name ‘Rio’ appears in my mind, your face is right there with it.

  You were an excellent employee—still are, I’m sure. And I can’t think of a single person I’d rather have at my side during the trip. And that’s the offer. Come with me to Rio, give me the chance to show you that I’m not the man who behaved so callously toward you. Show me that I can be a man worthy of a woman like you.

  If you delete this message and never speak to me again, I’ll understand. If that’s the case, let me tell you that I still deeply treasure the time we spent together. You’ve got a bright future ahead, Isla. I can only hope that you allow me to be some part of it.

  Yours,

  Adam

  The moment I typed the last letter I felt as exhausted as if I’d just sprinted a mile. I read the draft over and over, making sure that it conveyed what I wanted, and was certain that I could send it and not feel as though I’d left anything out.

  But I stopped myself on my third read-through, knowing that if I didn’t simply send it, I might never. With a single click, it was off.

  All I could do was wait.

  Chapter 25

  Isla

  Being on forced early maternity leave was not as fun as people might think. At home curled up on the couch, I couldn’t shake the idea that I was being lazy. Sure, I was nearly nine-months pregnant with twin girls, my stomach as big as a beach ball, but that didn’t mean I wanted to cool my heels. My team needed me, and there I was eating ice cream at three in the afternoon not knowing what to do with myself.

  I looked around the place, my new two-bedroom that I’d only moved into a few months ago. It was big—far too big for one person. And that was the idea. I needed a nursery for these little ladies, and my old one-bedroom bachelorette pad wasn’t going to cut it. The rent was higher than I’d hoped, but I was counting on a decent Christmas bonus and a raise come January. It was going to require some doing, but I was determined to make it happen.

  After one last bit of the double-fudge-and-caramel ice cream, I decided that enough was enough. With a heave, I set the pint on the coffee table and fell back into my seat. The ice cream was satisfying the insane sweet tooth I’d developed over the last few months, but I knew I needed to rein in my overeating sooner rather than later. Not a chance I’d be able to squeeze in a gym routine worth a damn once I was the single mother of twins.

  Single mother. The words were still hard to wrap my head around. Not that I’d ever been the type to be judgmental about women in my situation. But knowing that was going to be my life from here on out was still something I was having difficulty swallowing.

  What about dating? Sure, it was hardly the first thing on my mind, but I knew I wasn’t going to be cool with being single forever. How on earth was I going to feel confident enough to hit the dating scene, knowing my baby twins were waiting for me at home?

  I didn’t want to have to put myself through that. I wanted to skip it all, to fast-forward to the part where I was in a safe, stable relationship with a guy who loved me, and was hopefully handsome and smart to boot.

  Someone like Adam.

  I let out a loud “ugh!”—the same noise I made whenever I found myself thinking of him, which was far too often for my liking. But I couldn’t help it. As much as I knew I had a right to be mad at him, sometimes all I’d want would be for him to come through the door ready to help me raise our little girls.

  But just like I did every time I found myself thinking this way, I remembered that I was doing something extremely difficult all on my own. It was natural to want some help, and the father was the most sensible option to pitch in.

  “I can do this,” I said. “It’s hard, but it’s going to be worth it. It’s going to be worth it.”

  It was my little mantra, but the closer it grew to the due date, the hollower it had begun to feel. All I could think about was when the babies would finally come, how I’d have them and bring them home to my apartment and not have anyone here to share in the joy. Sure, I had friends from work who’d be happy to congratulate me, but it wasn’t the same.

  A chill ran down my cheek, and I realized I was crying.

  “Oh, come on, Isla,” I said, wiping it away. “It’s…it’s hard, but it’s going to be worth it. It’s going…”

  I couldn’t even finish. At that moment I felt hopeless, so hopeless that I could hardly think or move or do anything else.

  Then, o
ne of the girls kicked, as if reminding me who I was doing all of this for. I placed my hand on my belly and forced a smile. My feelings really didn’t matter any longer. It was all about these two.

  With a heave, I reached over and grabbed my computer to see if there might be anything work-related that I could busy myself with. Better than sitting around stewing in my own thoughts, I figured. Emily had been clear that I was not supposed to do any kind of work, insisting that even sitting around watching TV would be better in preparation for the birth. But that had never really been my style.

  A pillow on my lap and the computer open on top of it, I decided to start with my emails and see if there was anything that could use my attention. Nothing really at first glance—only a handful of CC’d emails that I didn’t have anything to do with.

  But one caught my eye. It was titled nothing more than “Isla.” My eyes tracked over to the sender, and I nearly slammed the laptop shut I was so surprised.

  “aforde@coriss.com”

  No way it was him—it couldn’t be. After steadying my hand, I moved the cursor over the email and opened it with a click. Any doubt that it was from the father of my children vanished as soon as I read the first line.

  I read it. Then I read it again. Then again. Then one more time, this time pinching myself to make sure that I wasn’t dreaming. I wasn’t. After all this time, Adam had finally connected with me.

  It wasn’t simply an attempt to reconnect either. He was asking me to travel with him to Rio, the place where this had all begun. I couldn’t even begin to think about how I was going to respond.

  “Okay,” I said. “He wants to see you again. And he knows nothing about the babies.”

  It was a dilemma, all right. Apparently, exactly like me, he’d been thinking about me constantly since we’d gone our separate ways. I’d gone all the way to freaking LA to get away from him, but that didn’t seem to have worked for either of us. We’d both spent the year wondering the same thing—whether or not we should see one another again. And despite me being the one who was mad at him, he’d reached out first.

  Mad at him. Was I even still mad at him? I knew I had every right to be. He’d pulled some scummy shit and hadn’t offered much in the way of an apology. But I’d been thinking about it over the last few months, and it was hard for me to not even consider looking at it from his perspective.

  What if he hadn’t been BS’ing me? I’d assumed that Adam had lied and had planned to ditch me from the get-go. But maybe that wasn’t the case? Had he really gotten so caught up in the moment with me that he’d forgotten about that he wasn’t supposed to do what he’d done?

  I supposed it was possible. And during our conversation, despite how cold he’d been, there had been moments when I’d seen through his icy façade at what looked to be a hurt man doing something he wished he didn’t have to.

  Of course, there was also the matter of the babies. I’d sworn to go it alone, but was that really the right thing to do? Not only was I denying Adam the chance to know his own children, but I was also denying the girls the chance to know their father. What would I even say when they were old enough to ask about him—“Dad’s alive and well, but I’m kind of pissed off at him so that’s why I never let you meet?”

  The more I thought about it, the more I realized I was doing the wrong thing. Adam was reaching out to me, and not taking the offer to reconnect with the father of my girls didn’t seem like an option. Sure, he might still try to buy me off, not want anything to do with them, but that was a risk I was willing to take.

  I opened the computer back up and began typing up my email reply. But halfway through the first sentence, I closed it.

  All of a sudden, I had a much better idea.

  Chapter 26

  Adam

  The heavy sadness that had taken hold of me the moment I stepped onto the plane was still there as we touched down in Rio.

  I felt hopeless, lost, like a plan I’d been making for months had just been undone. As the plane slowed to a stop, I took out my phone one last time and checked my email, knowing that the odds of there being an email or call or text were slim. After all, I’d been checking nearly every half hour.

  It’s time to accept it, I thought as the plane came to a stop on the tarmac. You tried to bring her back into your life, but she didn’t want anything to do with you. Nothing to do but live with it.

  My night’s sleep had been restless, and I was hardly in the frame of mind to do what needed to be done—the whole reason I’d come to Rio. As silly as it might’ve sounded, part of me had been hoping for a repeat of the last time I’d been here with work and fun and love with Isla.

  But that wasn’t going to happen.

  I stepped off the plane into the Rio air, warm and sweet and familiar. At least the weather was pleasant. The car awaited me, and after a forty-minute drive I was back at the hotel, the same one where Isla and I had stayed all the way back during Christmas. But it was only September, and there was no festive mood in the air. Business as usual in Rio.

  I checked in and was soon on my way up to the suite, the bellhop following at my side. The master suite—the one I’d stayed in before—had been booked by someone else. One of the grand suites remained, and as I held the keycard, I considered how the number seemed strangely familiar.

  As soon as I opened the door, I realized why—it was the suite I’d booked for Isla. I was going to be staying in the very same room where we’d spent our Christmas together.

  The realization made my chest tighten. All around the room were reminders of back then—the bed where we’d made love, the couch where we’d cuddled, the table where we’d eaten our Christmas breakfast. It was all there, as though it were mocking me with the memory.

  As I unpacked, my phone lit up over on the nearby table. My heart leapt, but as I snatched the phone off the table, I saw that it was merely a text from Pedro, the factory manager. A simple text sent to confirm that I’d arrived and was still on for our meeting later that day.

  I felt foolish, as though my reaction to the text was a perfect summation of how I’d been behaving—focused entirely on Isla and not on the work I was there to do.

  Get your head in the game, Adam, I thought. You’re the CEO and here you are constantly checking for texts like a heartsick high-schooler.

  My mental pep talk worked to focus me, and after a quick shower and change of clothes, I was ready to head to the factory and begin the task at hand.

  Nine long hours later I was back in the suite, ready to strip out of my clothes, take a long soak in the tub, and get some sleep so I could do it all over again the next day.

  Unlike the quick stop-in when I’d been here before, the day had been long and strenuous. Pedro, his team and I worked our butts off going over the data I’d brought, figuring out how to best implement it, and interviewing workers for their perspective on the situation at the factory. I was determined to meet with every single one, to know the people there whose jobs were on the line and look them in the eye.

  The next day I was back at the factory and repeating it all. Around eight p.m. I arrived back at the suite, showered, and hit the hay. The next day was the same, and then the next. By day five I was certain we were making some serious progress, and as difficult as it was, it was a welcome distraction from the Isla situation. And not only that, it was looking like I’d be able to get the changes implemented before I left. That meant I’d simply have to head back and wait to see if the bottom line had been affected in the way I was sure it was.

  But it was strange. On the way back from day six of the factory, a thought occurred to me that I’d never considered before.

  What the hell was I doing it all for?

  Sure, there were jobs to be saved and productivity to be increased. And I was damn good at my work. But what was the point? Was I really busting my ass for a little more money in the bank? A slightly nicer house? Maybe someday to have Edward’s office? Was that really what all of these years of making a
name for myself had been about?

  But to what end? Where was I going to be in ten years, twenty? Even Edward had a family, a life beyond Corliss. I had…nothing. I’d go home to my penthouse apartment, maybe have a drink or two, and start the next day at work. I’d been making waves as the new CEO, really kicking ass. But so what? Say I had Edward’s position someday, that he turned the company over to me. Would I simply immerse myself in my work even more than I already had?

  I’d never thought like this before. I’d always been so happy and eager and enthused about working. But at that moment, other than the idea of doing some real good through saving the jobs in Rio, I was questioning it all.

  I decided I needed a walk to clear my head. After freshening up I was soon down on the city streets, aimlessly strolling around the still-bustling roads. Before too long I found myself in familiar territory, the old parts of town that Isla and I had seen during the holidays. I spotted the family-run restaurant where we’d had our meal together. Briefly I considered stopping in for a bite, but I had no appetite.

  Walking on, I found the church where the mule incident had gone down. I smiled as I recalled getting thrown onto my ass right before watching Isla handle the animal with expert skill. But the smile soon faded, and I found myself wishing she was there with me.

  By the time I reached the town square where we’d watched the carolers, I’d decided that enough was enough. I couldn’t believe how much the familiar sights had affected me, how much they’d pulled me back to that Christmas as though no time had passed at all.

  I was ready to go back to the hotel, but the thought of sleeping once again in that same bed sent another pulse of sadness and longing through me. Instead I stopped for a drink, hoping that my trick of a glass of something stiff before bed would do me some good.

  After my drink I had a decent buzz, but the booze had only brought my mood down even further. Tension gripped me as I realized that I truly had no way to cope with the feeling of emptiness that had taken hold of me. What else could I do? Return to the bar and drink until I passed out? Talk about a temporary solution.