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A Touch of Temptation
A Touch of Temptation

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A Touch of Temptation

Язык: Английский
Год издания: 2019
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“I realized what I had done wrong the moment I left the island,” he said, unable to stop himself from wringing out the last drop of satisfaction. He had never claimed to be a great man. He had been born a bastard, and to this day he was one. “I’ve come to rectify that mistake.”

Kim trembled all over, an almighty buzz filling up her ears.

“A mistake?” Her throat ached as it pushed that word out.

His golden gaze gleamed, a knowing smile curving his upper lip. “I forgot a tiny detail, although it was the most important of all.”

He plucked a sheaf of papers from his coat pocket and slid them on to her desk. Every inch of her tensed. The words on those familiar papers blurred.

“I need your signature on the divorce papers.”

She struggled to get her synapses to fire again, to get her lungs to breathe again.

The innocuous-looking papers pierced through her defenses, inviting pain she had long ago learned not to feel. This was what she had wanted for six long years—to be able to correct the mistake she had made, to be able to forget the foolish dream that had never stood a chance.

Her palms were clammy as she picked up the papers.

“My staff at the villa were never able to locate the copies you brought.”

She shivered uncontrollably at the slight curiosity in his words. Because she had torn them up after that first night when Diego had made love to her.

No, not love. Sex. Revenge sex. The this-is-what-you-walked-away-from kind. For a woman with an above average IQ, she had repeated the same mistake when it came to Diego.

She turned the papers over and over in her hands. This was it.

Diego would walk out of her life. She would never again have to see the foolishness she had indulged in in the name of love. What she had wanted for so long was within her grasp. Yet she couldn’t perform the simple task of picking up the pen.

“You could have sent this through your lawyer,” she said softly, the shock and confusion she had held in check all evening by the skin of her teeth slithering their way into her. Her stomach heaved. “You didn’t have to come yourself.”

He leaned against the table, all cool arrogance and casual charm. But nothing could belie the cruel satisfaction in the curve of his mouth. He wanted blood and he was circling her like a hungry shark now that he could smell it.

“And miss the chance to say goodbye for the final time?”

“You mean you wanted to see the fallout from your twisted seduction?”

“Seduction?” he said, a dark shadow falling over his features. The force of his anger slammed into her like a gale. “Why don’t you own it, like you do everything else? There was no seduction.” He reached her before she could blink. “What does it say about us that even after six years it took us mere hours after laying eyes on each other to end up in bed? Or rather against the wall...”

Her stomach somersaulted. Her skin sizzled. He was right. Sex was all she could think of when he was close. Hot, sweltering, out-of-control, mind-blowing, biggest-mistake-of-your-life-that-you-made-twice sex.

She would die before she admitted how much truth there was in his words, how much more he didn’t know.

She grabbed her pen and signed the first paper, her fingers shaking.

She lifted her chin and looked up at him, gathering every ugly emotion simmering beneath the surface and pouring it into her words. “It’s nothing more than a stimulus and response—like Pavlov’s dog. No matter how many years pass, I see you and I think of sex. Maybe because you were my first. Maybe because you are so damn good at it.”

The papers slithered to the floor with a dangerous rustle. She felt his fury crackling around them. He tugged her hard against him, his body a smoldering furnace of desire.

She had angered him with her cold analogy. But it only made the void inside her deepen.

His mouth curled into a sneer. “Of course. I forgot that the cruise, those couple of months you spent with me, were nothing but a rich princess’s wild, dirty rebellion, weren’t they?”

She felt a strange constriction in her chest, a tightness she had nothing to fight against. A sob clawed its way up her throat.

She hated him for ruining the most precious moments of her life. For reducing them to nothing. She hated herself for thinking he had loved her six years ago, for losing her mind the moment she had seen him again four weeks ago.

For someone who had been emotionally stunted for so long, the upsurge of emotion was blinding—pulling her under, driving reason from her mind.

She bunched her fingers in his jacket, his heart thundering beneath her touch. “It’s good that you’re so greedy you came back for more. Because I have news for you.”

CHAPTER TWO

“YOU HAVE NEWS...?” He frowned, his fingers locked in a tight grip over hers. “What, princesa? Do you have a new man lined up now that your sister has stolen the last one? Do you think I give a damn?”

“I’m pregnant.”

He didn’t move. He didn’t blink. Not even a muscle twitched in his mobile face.

Hot satisfaction fueled her. She had wanted to shake his infuriating arrogance. She had. On its heels followed raking guilt.

Her knees buckled under her. Only Diego’s hold on her was keeping her upright.

God, she hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that. She hadn’t even dealt with what it meant to her, what it implied...

What did it say about her that the only positive thing she felt about the pregnancy was that it could shock Diego like nothing else could?

After the way he had treated her she owed him nothing. And yet keeping him in the dark required a price higher than she was willing to pay.

He had provided her with the best opportunity to tell him, to get it done with. For all she knew he wouldn’t even care. He had wanted revenge, he’d got it—with little scruples—and now he had divorce papers ready. And he would keep on walking.

His gaze sliced to her, searching her face. Her composure unraveled at his silence.

The roguish arrogance was gone from his face, replaced by a resolute calm. Every inch of her quaked.

“Is it mine?”

Her gut started that dangerous fall again. She needed to get herself under control. Because Diego was a master at reading her. Whatever she wished, he would do the opposite. Just to make her life harder.

She needed to play it cool. “Why do you think I’m giving you the good news?”

“You slept with me mere hours after laying eyes on me again,” he said, his golden gaze betraying his fury, “while the man you were ready to marry still had his lapdog out looking for you and your twin was being your damned placeholder in his life.”

She trembled as he walked away from her, as though he couldn’t bear to breathe the same air as her.

“And you went back to him as soon as I left you. Except he was two-timing you just as you were doing him. So I repeat: is the baby mine?”

“That’s not true. Alex and I—”

She shut her mouth with a snap, leaned back against the soft leather, trembling from head to toe. Guilt hung heavy in her stomach. The media, her father—the whole world had crucified Liv, while Kim was the one responsible for it all.

Except Diego knew where she had been and what she had been up to while Liv had pretended to be her. And of course Diego thought Kim had quietly crawled back to Alex, that nothing had changed for her. That she had jumped into his bed from Alex’s and then jumped straight back.

That was untrue on so many levels.

Even before Diego had made his true intentions known Kim had broken it off with Alexander. Only Diego didn’t know that.

Her next breath filled her with his scent—dark and powerful. Her eyes flew open.

He raised a brow, watching her with hawklike intensity. “It’s a simple question, gatinha, and sadly one only a woman can answer.”

There was nothing in his tone—no nuance of sarcasm, no hint of anger or accusation—nothing that she could latch onto and feed her fury, her misery.

“Alex and I...” she whispered, feeling heat creep up her skin. “We—”

“All I need—” his words came through gritted teeth “—is your word. Not a day-by-day update on your sexual activity.”

Mortification spread like wildfire inside her. Really, she needed to get a grip on herself—needed to stop blurting out things Diego had no need to know.

More information on her non-existent sex-life fell into that category without a doubt. She already had a permanent reminder of how scandalously she had behaved. And now Alex and Liv, her father—the whole world was going to find out...

Her gut churned again with a vicious force. “Of course it’s yours.”

His jaw tight, he nodded. His easy acceptance, his very lack of a reaction, sent a shiver running down her spine. She had expected him to burst out, had braced herself for an attack.

Why did he trust her so easily? He had every right to demand a paternity test. Every right to question the truth of her claim. That was what she wanted from him. That was what she expected from him.

Instead his self-possession—something she usually prided herself on—grated on her nerves. She was still panicking. She had blurted out the news in a petty fit of pique. Whereas he didn’t even blink.

She laughed, the sound edging toward hysteria. “What? No accusations? No demands for proof? No talk of DNA tests? Just like that, Diego?”

He turned away from her to lean against the wall and closed his eyes. He ran his hand over the bump on his nose. Tension overflowed from him, filling up the huge suite, rattling like an invisible chain, reaching for her. His eyes flew open and her gaze was caught by his.

“DNA tests are for women to whom being pregnant with a rich man’s child means a meal ticket to a better life. An accusation my father threw at my mother every time she showed up with me on his doorstep, begging for support.”

His words vibrated with emotion. His very stillness, in contrast to the loathing in his words, was disquieting in the least. “However, with our history, I don’t think that’s what you’re going for.”

Kim tucked her head in her hands, wondering what she had started. A lump of something—she refused to call it gratitude—blocked her throat, making it harder for her to speak. He could have turned this into something ugly if he wished. He hadn’t.

Everything within her revolted at being obligated to him for even that small display of honor. It made her weak, plunged her into useless wishing.

She couldn’t let him put her in the wrong. She couldn’t forget that the very reason she was in this situation was because he had orchestrated payback.

She felt the hard wall of heat from his body and stiffened.

“For a woman who fairly blazes with confidence in every walk of life, your hesitation would be funny if it wasn’t the matter of a child. Are you not so sure who the father is yourself?” he whispered softly, something deadly vibrating in his tone.

“There’s no doubt,” she repeated.

Thinking with a rational mind, she knew she should just tell Diego the stupid truth. That she had never slept with Alexander. But then Diego would never leave the truth alone.

“Now that we have solved that particular puzzle, what do you need from me?”

It took her a moment to realize that he was waiting for an answer. A chill began to spread over her skin. “I...I don’t need anything from you.”

“Of course not.” An edge crept into his tone, his gaze devouring her. Something stormy rumbled under that calm now. “Then why tell me?”

“Honestly? I wasn’t thinking,” she said, wondering if she was destined always to make mistakes when it came to him. “You were gloating. You were...”

“Nice to know something touches you,” he said, a fire glinting in his gaze. She opened her mouth to argue and shut it just as quickly. “And if I hadn’t been here to gloat? Would you have called me then?”

“That’s a question I don’t have to answer, because you are here. And stop pretending as though this means something, Diego. You were ready to walk out of my life, and I say keep on walking.”

“Your arrogance in thinking that you know me is astounding, querida. Did I teach you nothing four weeks ago?”

His words rumbled around her, and images and sensations tumbled toward her along with them. But she refused to back down. “You take risks. Your business tactics are barely on this side of the law. The last thing you need in your life is a baby. If I had hidden this from you you would have only found more reason to hate me.”

“To think for a moment I assumed that you weren’t doing this for purely selfish reasons but for the actual wellbeing of the child you’re carrying...”

She flinched, the worst of her own fears crystallized by his cutting words. Her earlier dread intensified. That was what she should have immediately thought of. The child’s welfare. “I want nothing but a divorce and an exit from you.”

His laughter faded and shadowed intent filled his face. He grabbed the papers she had signed not five minutes ago and shredded them with his hands.

His calm movements twisted her gut. “Then what do you have in mind? We’ll kiss each other and make up? Play happy family—”

He came closer—until she could see the gold specks in his eyes, smell the dark scent of him that scrambled her wits.

“I’m not turning my back on my child.”

Panic unfurling in her stomach, she shot up from her seat. “You’re out of your mind. This is not what I planned for my life—”

“I’m sure you had a list of requirements that needed to be met in order to produce the perfect offspring,” he said, his words ringing with bitter satisfaction, “but it’s out of your hands now.”

“It is. But what I can control is what I do about it now. Being a mother is going to be hard enough. Dealing with you on a regular basis will just tip me over into...”

Perverse anger rose within her—perverse, irrational and completely useless. He could walk away from this. She needed him to walk away from this. But she...she had no such choice. She had a lifelong commitment. She was supposed to love this baby. She was supposed to...

“You don’t want this baby?”

“Of course I don’t. I’ll even go so far as to say it’s the worst thing that has ever happened to me!” she shouted, the words falling off her trembling lips.

Shock flickered in his gaze, but she didn’t have the energy to wish them unsaid.

“This baby is going to be a walking, talking reminder of the biggest mistake of my life. You’ve achieved what you wanted, Diego. You’ve done your worst. You have changed my life in a way I can’t control. Now, please, leave me to get on with it.”

* * *

Diego breathed out through his teeth and hit the punching bag again with renewed force. His right hook was beginning to fall short again. The injury to the muscle in his bicep was making itself known. The same injury that had forced him to withdraw from financially lucrative street-fights. The injury that had forced him to reach out to his father for help when he had been sixteen and unable to pay for his mother’s treatment.

But he wouldn’t stop now. He breathed through the vicious pain, hating himself for even remembering.

The clock on the wall behind him chimed, reminding him he’d been at it for more than two hours now.

Sweat poured down from his forehead and he shook his head to clear it off. His T-shirt was drenched through and the muscles in his arms felt like stones. Adrenaline rushed through him in waves and he was beginning to hear a faint thundering in his ears. Probably his blood whooshing. But he didn’t stop.

Because even trying to drown himself in physical agony he couldn’t block out Kim’s words.

Stimulus and response!

Meu Deus, the woman reduced him to the lowest denominator with her infuriating logic. No one had ever got under his skin like she did. And she was carrying his baby. The resentment that had glittered in her brown eyes pierced even the haze of his pain.

Punch.

Of course it’s yours.

Thump.

It’s the worst thing that has ever happened to me.

Punch.

This baby is going to be a walking, talking reminder of the biggest mistake of my life.

Thump.

Nausea whirled at the base of his throat, threatening to choke him with its intensity. He’d had enough rejection from his father to last him several lifetimes. He would be dead before he did the same to his child or became a stranger.

He took one last punch and pulled his gloves off. He picked up a bottle of water, guzzled half of it down and dumped the rest over his head. The water trickled over his face into his eyes. The biting cold did nothing to pacify the crazy roar in his head.

Because Kim had been right. He didn’t want to be a father.... He wasn’t fit to be a father...

He let a curse fly and went at the punching bag again, shame and disgust boiling over in his blood. Pain waves rippled up his knuckles. His skin started peeling at his continued assault.

He had no good in him. All he had was hatred, jealousy. He didn’t possess a single redeeming quality that said he should even be a part of a child’s life. He had chosen to walk the path he had with full clarity of thought—to take everything from his father that he deserved. He had known exactly what he was doing when he’d reached for that goal.

And that was what he wanted to do now, too. He wanted to take his child from Kim and walk away. Every nerve in him wanted to ensure he had full custody.

But he could not sink so low again.

He had let his hatred for his father lead him to destroy his half brother’s life in the process. If not for Diego’s blind obsession Eduardo would have been...

He shivered, a chill swamping him.

He couldn’t risk that happening with his child. If, because of his obsession with Kim, he hurt his child in any way he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. He couldn’t let his anger at her drive him into making a mistake again—not anymore. Not when it could hurt his own child.

Playing happy family with Kim, seeing her every day, when she was the one weakness he had never conquered—every inch of him revolted at the very thought.

And yet he couldn’t escape his responsibility. He couldn’t just walk away and become a stranger to his own child.

He had a chance to change the vicious cycle of neglect and abuse he and Eduardo had gone through.

He would move mountains to make sure his child had everything he’d never had—two loving parents and a stable upbringing. Even if that meant tying himself to the woman who brought his bitterest fears to the surface.

CHAPTER THREE

KIM PULLED THE satin pillow over her head and groaned as her cell phone chirped. She hadn’t gotten into bed until three in the morning, after going over the new feature on The Daily Help with the design architect and writing her own feature for the career advice section she did every Tuesday.

Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. It was only seven. She felt a distinct lack of energy to attack the day. When her phone rang for the third time in a row she switched the Bluetooth on.

“Kim, are you okay?”

Liv.

Tension tightened in the pit of her stomach at the concern in her twin’s voice. She had been putting Liv off for two weeks now.

She pushed herself up on the bed and leaned against the metallic headboard. “I’m fine. Is everything okay with you and Alex?”

“We’re fine. I’m just...” Liv’s uncharacteristic hesitation hung heavily between them. “God, Kim—is it true? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

Kim swallowed, fear fisting her chest. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve made front page headlines. Not just the scandal rags, like I did, but even the business channels on television.”

“What?”

“It says you’re pregnant. Are you?”

Diego.

Kim closed her eyes and breathed huge gulps of air. Obviously her refusal to have anything to do with him, her refusal even to answer his calls, meant Diego had begun playing dirty.

“Yes.”

“When were you going to tell me? Are you...? I mean, are you okay with this? Does Diego know? What are you planning to do?”

They were all perfectly valid questions. Kim had just shoved them down forcefully.

“I’m perfectly fine, Liv. I don’t have the time right now to process what it means. Once this upcoming milestone for my company has passed I’ll make a list of the things I need to do.” She closed her eyes, fighting for composure. “I’ll even have a few sessions with Mommy Mary.”

“Who is Mommy Mary?”

“The expert on all things maternal on my team.”

“On what?”

“On what I need to learn to be the perfect mother. It’s not like we had a good example, is it?”

“And until then you’re just going to put it on the back burner?”

What else was she supposed to do? Focus on the relentlessly clammy feeling in her stomach every time her thoughts turned to the baby growing in her womb?

The stark contrast between the terrifying emptiness she felt and her newly pregnant CFO’s glorious joy was already a constant distressing reminder that something vital was missing in her own genetic make-up.

“I can’t botch this opportunity for my company by losing my focus.”

“I don’t know what to...” Olivia’s tone rang with the same growing exasperation Kim had sensed in their recent conversations. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Kim tucked her knees close as Liv hung up. She wanted to reach out to Liv. Liv’s love came with no conditions, no judgment.

But Kim—she had always been the strong one. She had had to be in order to protect first her mother and then Liv from their father’s wrath.

She couldn’t confide her fears in anyone. Least of all to her twin, to whom loving and caring and nurturing came so easily.

Whereas Kim had trained herself so hard to not care, not to let herself be touched by emotions. She’d had to after she had learned what her mother had planned...

Only had she accomplished it so well—just as she had everything else in life—that she felt nothing even for the child growing in her womb?

Because even after a week all she felt was utter panic at the thought of the baby. She had spent a fortune buying almost a dozen more pregnancy test kits, hoping that it had been a false positive. And every time the word “pregnant” had appeared her stomach had sunk a little lower.

Or was it because of the man who had fathered her baby? Could her anger for Diego be clouding everything else? Was this how their mother had felt? Beneath her fear of their father, had she felt nothing for her children?

Without crawling out of bed, she pulled her reading glasses on and powered up her iPad. Her heart thumped loudly. She clicked on to one of her favorite websites—one she could count on to provide news objectively.

It was the first time she wasn’t in the news being lauded for one of her accomplishments.

The article, for all its flaming header, didn’t spend time speculating on the answer to either of the questions it posed. But suddenly she wished it did. Because the speculation it did enter into was much more harmful than if they had spawned stuff about her personal life.

The article highlighted the way any woman—especially one who was pregnant and with her personal life in shambles—could expect to expand her company and do it successfully.


Should investors be worried about pouring their money into a company whose CEO’s first priority might not be the company itself? One who has been involved in not one but two major scandals? Could this pregnancy herald the death of the innovative startup The Daily Help and its brilliant CEO Kimberly Stanton’s illustrious career?


She shoved the tablet away and got out of bed, her mind whirling with panic. She ran a hand over her nape, too restless to stay still. It might have been written by Kim herself, for it highlighted every little one of her insecurities— everything she had made a list of herself.

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