Corrupted--A Scorching Hot Romance Read online

  Dammit.

  Marci yells out, “Cut,” and I dip my head.

  “Do you want to hang around a bit longer, or head to the restaurant?”

  She smiles up at me, all dreamy-like. “I’m ready to go.”

  The walls around my heart crumble a little more and I shake my head. “Let’s go.” I put my arm around her and lead her through the crowds.

  “Did you notice the costumes?” she asks.

  “Yeah, they went with the ones you fixed. You did such a good job they didn’t need to order more. I’m sure they put the donations to better use.”

  “It kind of makes me happy that they went with the original costumes. It sort of fits with the rags to riches story they’re going for.”

  “Couldn’t have happened without your sewing talents.”

  She smiles, a new lightness in her step as I lead her into the well-known seafood restaurant. I open the door and put my hand on her back to guide her in.

  “This place is gorgeous,” she says quietly. “I’m sure we’ll need a reservation.”

  “I called ahead.”

  She gives my arm a squeeze and it travels to my damn heart. “Here I’ve been ignoring you and you’ve been planning this.”

  I bend and whisper in her ear. “Is that what you think, that you’ve been ignoring me?”

  “It’s what I know.”

  The hostess takes our coats, and puts us at a quiet table for two, a nice private spot in the corner like I asked. I unbutton my suit jacket and sit. As she admires the aesthetics of the place, I open the wine menu and scan it.

  “Chardonnay?” I ask.

  “Still my favorite.”

  “Since we’re walking...” I close the menu and order a bottle when the server comes.

  “Are you trying to get me drunk?” she asks, as bread, oil and vinegar are served to us.

  I wait until we’re alone. “When I get you in my bed, I don’t want you drunk, babe. I want you wide-awake and aware of everything I’m doing to you.”

  She visibly quakes, and I grin. The bottle of wine is brought over and served, and when it’s just the two of us again, I tap glasses with hers and we both take a sip. I don’t want to spoil tonight, or pierce her balloon of happiness, but I lean forward, wanting to talk about the auction, and her eyes meet mine. Her body stiffens. Clearly she knows what’s on my mind.

  “So, the auction house,” she begins, takes a big sip of her wine and sets it on the table. She toys with the stem, her gaze flitting to mine. “As you know my father can be controlling at times.”

  I smooth my hand over my coat, and push back in my chair. “I know.”

  “Unfortunately for me,” she says, twisting her cloth napkin in her hand. “He’s made some very bad investments.” Her lashes lift slowly. “From what he said, his conglomerate is in real trouble.” She laughs but it’s humorless. “I have ideas, of course. But he won’t listen to a word I have to say.”

  “That’s a mistake on his part.”

  “Thank you for saying that.” She takes another sip of wine, and the server comes to take our orders. We both have a quick look at the menu but after what I just heard, and what I fear she’s going to say, my stomach has soured.

  After she orders, I close my menu. “I’ll have the handmade ravioli,” I say. At least that will give me something to move around my plate.

  “He doesn’t believe women belong in ‘business.’” She does air quotes around that word. “I’ve mostly been doing charitable work with my mother.” She cringes like she’s embarrassed at what she’s about to say next. “I’m basically on an allowance for that.”

  I nod, and she continues. “It’s not that I’m not trying to get work. I-it’s just no one takes me seriously.”

  “I take you seriously.”

  Her eyes widen, and she almost looks like she’s going to offer a counterargument, when I say, “Why is this unfortunate for you, Londyn?”

  “You’re going to find this hard to believe. Heck, I still can’t wrap my brain around it. It’s the twenty-first century for God’s sake.” She shakes her head, and goes quiet. Her thoughts a million miles away.

  “What will I find hard to believe?”

  “He wants me to marry to better position his businesses,” she blurts out, and a wave of disbelief and anger screech through me.

  Bastard.

  “So you go onstage to raise a sizable amount of cash to flood the company.”

  She glances down, and her face is a bit paler. “In a nutshell, yes. Crazy, right?”

  “What’s crazy is what your father is doing. Forcing you into marriage, to someone of his choosing.” I clamp down on my jaw. I want to say more, I do, but I’d rather her find out from someone else, or for herself, that her father is likely full of shit. Everything in my gut is telling me this is a stunt to marry her off to a guy with the right pedigree, and less to do with him needing a business partner.

  “I’m not even sure if my father likes me.”

  My heart cracks, right down the center. Her whole fucking life she’s been seeking his approval. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but can’t stop myself from saying, “Maybe you should spend all that energy on someone who does, Londyn. I know he’s your father, and I would probably do the same if mine were still alive, but it rips me into pieces to see how hard you work, and how little respect he gives you, as a designer and as a woman. You have more talent in your little finger than most, and you’re a good person.” I take a breath. “I know what you did to me...it was all for your father. Your way of getting approval.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Why did you think I was going to send you back once I found out?”

  “You bought me, Cason. That money is going to save my father’s business. I can’t even imagine how that would make you feel after...”

  “The money is going to keep you from a marriage you don’t want. I’d spend it all to stop that from happening, Londyn.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Londyn

  I’M STILL A LITTLE stunned to be honest. I thought Cason would be livid once he learned where the money he spent on me would be going, but instead he showed more concern about my well-being, more concern about protecting me from a forced marriage. Over the course of the meal, while he seemed infuriated that my father would put me in such a position, not once did he direct any of that anger at me. In fact, he was incredibly sweet and charming, engaging me in conversation and encouraging me to talk about my work, which I could go on and on about for hours, and pretty much did. Dammit, I really did hog all the conversation, although he seemed to enjoy sitting there listening to me. I love that about him.

  I love a lot about him.

  “You all set?” he asks as we finish our last sips of coffee and Kahlúa.

  “I’m glad they finished up the film,” I say, and he gives me a strange look. I rub my tummy. “They might mistake me for Santa with a bowl full of jelly when we walk by.”

  He laughs, and the easy sound wraps around me. After he pays the bill, we head outside and the night is a bit cooler. I hug myself, and he moves closer. His mere presence, his proximity, leaves me light-headed. How I’m ever going to go back to “normal” after this week is beyond me. Actually, maybe it’s not. Maybe there is just no coming back from this fairy tale.

  “Do you think it will snow for Christmas?” I ask as my shoes tap on the dry sidewalk.

  “Doubtful.” He glances at the dark night, the stars shining against a black velvet backdrop. “They don’t get much snow here. I think something like only three days a year, but I’ve yet to see it.”

  I scrunch up my nose, disappointment swirling through me. While I don’t like the cold, snow at Christmas would be the perfect ending to this fantasy I’m living. “Bummer.”

  “You want snow?”

  “I think it would be nice.�
�� I smile and nudge him. “Maybe if I wish really hard for it, Santa will bring it.”

  “Yeah, maybe, and maybe I’ll get that Transformer I always wanted?” he says, and then curses silently under his breath. “I mean, it’s probably not going to happen,” he redirects, like he said more than he wanted to and is desperate to get his words back. Too late.

  I stop walking. “What?”

  “Nothing,” he says, slowing his steps but not stopping. With his back still to me, he adds, “I guess I was just making a point that Christmas wishes don’t always come true. It’s best not to get your hopes up.”

  “I know,” I say and start walking again, hurrying my steps to catch up. This man has faced far too much disappointment, and I hate that I added to it. I look up at him and he briefly pinches his eyes shut. “What?” I ask. “Are you okay?” Jeez, he looks like he’s in total agony.

  “I can’t believe I’m about to do this.”

  “Do what?” I glance around but can’t figure out what he’s talking about.

  “Come with me,” he says, putting his arm around my back to lead me down toward the port. “I hope you don’t have any work that can’t wait.”

  “My work can always wait for you, Cason,” I say with an honesty that makes his brow furrow. I glance down as we walk, my mind on Cason. Now what did I say to give him grief? “What do you have in mind?” I ask, assuming it’s something to do with us both getting naked. The man sort of has a one-track mind, and I’m not complaining, not one little bit.

  “This,” he says, and I lift my head to see all the Christmas trees being sold in the lit-up lot.

  My entire body shakes, and my knees turn rubbery, as I take in the festive display before me. It’s gorgeous with all the colored bulbs flashing, and a hot chocolate stand set up. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was part of the Christmas movie.

  “Why are we here?”

  “You want a tree, don’t you?”

  I stand there, sure I’ve heard him wrong. Perhaps the hustle of the people around me has distorted his words and has me hearing things.

  “I... I don’t understand.”

  He laughs.

  “Would you like to put up a tree, Londyn?”

  “I...yes,” I say. “Only if you do.”

  “I do,” he says.

  I narrow my eyes. “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”

  “More like what are you doing to me?” he mumbles under his breath, and my heart does a little happy dance against my rib cage. I love seeing him get into the holiday spirit, love that he’s feeding off my happiness. Although I don’t want to get too excited. I’m still not sure I haven’t taken a wrong turn, and stepped into the twilight zone.

  “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to pick out a tree?”

  I snap out of it and give him a playful glare. “You don’t have to be an ogre.”

  He laughs harder, and takes my hand. “Oh, we’re back to that are we?” We weave in and out of all the gorgeous trees, until I find the most perfect one.

  “This one,” I say.

  “Seriously?” He gives me a look that suggests I’m crazy, and I’m not sure he’s wrong. I am crazy. Crazy to get mixed up with him again, to fall into his bed, to make something of this holiday season, and to try to bring a new kind of joy into his life. But in the end, while I’m going to leave here heartbroken, if it brings a modicum of happiness to this amazing man, then the pain will be worth it. He deserves more than this life has given him. “You had to pick the biggest one on the lot?” he asks, dragging my thoughts back.

  “Hey, you told me to pick one out, and you never said there were restrictions, so if we’re going to do it, we’re going to do it right.”

  “Have you never heard of moderation?”

  “If you’re going to do it, then overdo it.”

  “Right, moderation is for the weak,” he says. “I remember that was your motto back in college.”

  I laugh at that and he puts his arms around me. His lips find mine for a warm kiss. “You’re kind of crazy, you know that?”

  Crazy about him? Yeah, I know that.

  “Funny, just a minute ago I was thinking the same thing.”

  “I’m not too far off either, so again something we have in common.”

  I arch a playful brow. “Does that mean we can get this one?”

  “Of course,” he says, and as he reaches for his wallet, happiness wells up inside me. This tree goes hand in hand for what I want to plan, and speaking of, with Christmas just around the corner, I need to hit the ground running.

  “Now we need to find a store with all the bulbs.”

  He groans, but there is a new kind of happiness about it. “What have I gotten myself in to?”

  “Save that thought for later...” I tease.

  He grabs my arm. “Come on, I’m getting a boner.”

  “Oh, that reminds me. We need to get some logs for the fire.”

  He groans. “Really, Londyn?” I burst out laughing and he shakes his head at me. “Let’s go find these bulbs and logs.”

  A little over an hour later, we’re back at his villa with a fire raging in the hearth. We’ve both slipped out of our formal wear and into our casual clothes. Cason looks edible in his jeans and a T-shirt that showcases his broad shoulders and trim waist. I’m currently in my yoga pants and one of his button-downs, which he seems to enjoy, judging by the way his gaze keeps going to my cleavage as we move furniture so we can put the tree in front of the big window.

  “We won’t be able to see the sea,” Cason says.

  “I want to look at the tree, not the water.”

  There’s a knock at the door, and Cason goes to answer it as I finish rearranging his place. As he brings in the tree, I dash to the kitchen to put the kettle on. There will be no decorating without the prerequisite hot chocolate. A bubble of happiness wells up inside me, and I almost burst, until my ringing phone brings me back down to earth. I grab my purse, stare at the number and debate on answering it.

  If I don’t, he’s soon going to start worrying, and for all I know he’ll send out a search party. Since Cason is busy, I run my finger over the phone and answer the call.

  “Hello, Father,” I say.

  A beat of silence and then, “Londyn.”

  “Ah, how are things? How’s Mother?”

  “Your mother is preparing for her holiday in the Alps. Will you be home for Christmas?”

  I lower my voice, not wanting Cason to overhear. “No, I told you I’d be spending my holidays in Florida with a friend.”

  “Is that right?” he asks, his voice hard, doubtful.

  I straighten my spine. Honest to God, I’m a grown woman, and I no longer have to answer to him. Let him cut off my monthly stipend, or as he calls it my allowance. That’s ridiculous, considering I work for every last dime, and if you ask me, he’s not paying me nearly what I’m worth, or utilizing me the best way he could. I wish I didn’t have to depend on him. Wish I could make it on my own. The second that thought hits, so does another one. I gasp, and cover my mouth as a brilliant complementary idea to Cason’s Hard Wear app pings around in my brain.

  “Londyn, are you still there?”

  “I’m here,” I say, struggling to tamp down my excitement. Cason curses under his breath in the next room and I chuckle silently as he struggles to get the tree in the stand. I should be in there helping him not trying to placate my father.

  “I can’t really talk,” I say. “I’m a bit busy.”

  “Is that why you haven’t been answering my calls?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Are you sure that’s the only reason, Londyn?”

  A chill goes down my spine, taking me back to my teenage years, when my father reprimanded me for one thing or another. Was there
ever a time I could do anything right in his eyes? Ever a time where he was impressed or told me he was proud of me? Over the last week, Cason has been filling me with confidence, giving me the courage to run with my ideas. My creativity has come back under his care, which is likely why that brilliant idea hit moments ago. I can’t wait to tell Cason about it. I’m sure he’s going to want to run with it.

  “I’m positive,” I say.

  “You are visiting the parks.”

  “The what?” I ask, trying to focus on his words as Cason grunts and groans in the next room.

  “You said you were visiting a friend in Florida. I assume you’re visiting the parks.”

  “Right, the parks. For sure,” I say, hating to lie but having no choice in the matter. I can’t let him know who I’m with. He considers Cason, a boy who was tossed around in the system, from the wrong side of the tracks. If you ask me, that’s why he has so much character and integrity, and is so unlike the judgmental, unyielding stuffed shirts my father wants to see me with.

  Cason said horrible things about you, Londyn.

  Why am I suddenly second-guessing that?

  Oh, because it just doesn’t fit with his character.

  “Is everything under control, Londyn?” he asks.

  Wow, not “How are you, really?” Or “I’d really like to see you for Christmas,” but instead, “Is everything under control?”

  “Yes, of course everything is under control,” I say, and when I hear movement at the door I lift my head and find Cason watching me carefully. One hand goes to my chest in surprise, the other clutches my phone tighter when it nearly falls to the floor. “I have to go,” I say quickly. I end the call and slide my phone into my shirt pocket.

  “You okay?” Cason asks, his gaze moving over my face.

  “I’m good,” I say and push my father from my mind. “I’m just about to make hot chocolate. The tree is up?”