Page 14 of Temptation

“Since when are you questioning my decisions?” The words taste bitter on my tongue; their harshness feels unjustified. Because ever since I brought the woman home, I’ve been questioning the decision myself. But for an entirely different reason than Oliver does.

Perhaps because I can’t deny the way my pulse quickens when she’s near, the way her presence feels like a steadying anchor rather than a potential threat.

He gives me a curt nod, a silent acknowledgment that he overstepped a boundary and that his personal opinion should stay exactly that—personal.

“I want you to dig into her and find out everything there is to know,” I order, my mind already racing with possibilities. “Her friends, her enemies, her connections—I want to know fucking everything she does when she’s not standing in front of a classroom.” I lean forward, my elbows on the cold wood of my desk, my eyes boring into his. “Everything.”

“Yes, sir,” he responds curtly.

I am far from naive and no stranger to the concept of my family having targets on their backs. Being in the position I am in, doing the business I’m doing, there is hardly a person I can trust, and I certainly don’t trust Sienna. Still, something inside me defies the thought that she would deliberately harm my children, her students. The way the kids talk about her, their faces filled with a mix of awe and affection, sometimes makes me think she is the only reason they function like normal children.

My cock twitches in my pants as I think of her, a reaction I haven’t experienced in years. Damn it. I haven’t felt anything like this… hell, I haven’t feltanythingsince my wife’s death.

While I left the house to be able to think straight, I find my thoughts constantly circling back to the woman. Ms. Walsh is an exquisite creature, unassuming in her beauty, yet there’s a fire burning in her that attracts me. The little taste of her I allowed myself this morning only fueled my carnal hunger. The force of my need for her surprises the hell out of me, and I am tossed into a moment of filthy visions, longing for all the dirty things I wanted to do to her. That I am going to do to her. Her full lips, her smooth skin, the way her eyes flash with determination… it all combines to create a package I can’t resist. And I am no longer sure that I intend to.

“Daddy!”

The screeching sound that erupts from my daughter’s mouth is music to my ears.

A high-pitched squeal piercing the air—it’s both ear-shattering and heart-warming at the same time. Everyone who resides onmy father’s premises will have heard her proclamation of my arrival. I can’t help but smile as she flies across the foyer and flings herself into my outstretched arms, wrapping her little arms around my neck in a tight hug as I scoop her up, twirling her around in a circle as she giggles and squeals even louder.

Her warm body pressed against mine, the sweet scent of her shampoo, supposed to smell like fairy glitter and unicorn, fills my nostrils—it’s the best feeling in the world. Behind her, my son saunters into the room, not sharing his sister’s excitement to see me again. His legs carry him across the room with a laid-back ease that makes him seem older than his years. His face is a mask of cool indifference, but I can see the faintest glimmer of a smile in his blue eyes. He’s always been the tough one, the one who acts like he doesn’t care, but I know he’s just as happy to see me as his sister is. He’s just like his father, stoic and reserved, only showing his emotions when he’s angry.

It’s a trait that worries me, seeing my own shortcomings reflected back at me in my son’s face. A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I lean back to look at my beautiful babies. They’re growing up so fast, changing every day. It won’t be long before these childhood displays of affection from my daughter are a thing of the past, before my son’s stoic reserve turns into the same kind of emotional blockade he and I share.

Appearance-wise, they are a perfect mixture between my deceased wife and me. Lexi’s golden locks and my dark hair have combined into a beautiful brown color in our children, a shade that shimmers with golden undertones in the sunlight. Both kids have inherited my blue eyes, but the subtle gray undertone of their mother’s irises makes their gaze appear warmer, softer than my own. It’s as if they’re looking at me with a piece of her—a tiny fragment of the woman I lost, the woman who should be here to see the incredible children we created grow up.

But it’s not just their physical appearance that reflects their parents. In every other way, my daughter is the spitting image of Lexi, while my son is his father reincarnate. Maddy possesses her mother’s spark, her innate zest for life that draws people in like a magnet. She lights up a room with her presence, her laughter and smile infectious… just like her mother’s.

My son, on the other hand, has my reserved nature, a tendency to observe from the sidelines before getting involved, and when he does, he does it with all of his force. He’s brooding, intense, with a quiet strength that commands respect. He’s a thinker, a planner, and harbors just as much anger inside as I do. Which occasionally leads to behavior that becomes more and more unacceptable as he struggles to find healthy outlets for his emotions.

“How was your day? Did you have a good time with your granddad?” I ask.

“Yah! It was super fun.” Maddy’s enthusiasm is radiant, and I can’t help but smile at her excitement.

Flynn wrinkles his little nose. “Old people are boring.”

A part of me wants to chuckle at his blunt assessment, but another part of me wants to scold him for his disrespect.

“That’s not a nice thing to say,” I gently reprimand him. “You know your grandfather loves you and is always beyond excited when you stay with him.” The words are not even meant to make my son feel bad; they’re the truth. Ever since my father stepped down, handing the reins of his business to his oldest son, his greatest joy has been his grandchildren. Maybe he’s making up for lost time with his own kids now, maybe he’s finally figuring out this whole parenting thing, even if it is with the next generation.

“Sorry,” my son mumbles.

“Now, come on. Grab your stuff and let’s get home. I have a surprise for you.” Their faces light up at my words, and theyscramble to gather their things. I watch them, my heart swelling with pride and love, with a touch of melancholy.

Six

Sienna

Time seems to slip away as I sit mesmerized by the view outside the window, soaking in the stunning beauty of the garden that surrounds the house. The lush greenery stretches out like a vibrant tapestry, with flowers blooming in every conceivable color—from pure whites to soft pinks to deep reds. A gentle breeze rustles through the leaves of the towering trees, their branches swaying softly in the wind. When the sun begins its slow descent toward the horizon, it casts a warm, golden glow over the entire scene. That’s when I realize, with a start, that I must have been sitting here for hours, completely lost in the tranquil beauty of the garden, adrift in my own thoughts.

The sound of the door unlocking and creaking open breaks the spell. I turn to see it slightly ajar, but there’s no one there. It’s clear I’m expected to make my way downstairs to join Fabrizio and his children for dinner, just as he mentioned this morning.

A touch of apprehension settles in my stomach as I rise from my seat and step into the hallway, enveloped in an almost palpable silence. The house is surprisingly quiet, considering it’s inhabited by two young children and a group of Fabrizio’s… soldiers, or whatever they call themselves. The atmosphere is thick with an air of anticipation, and I can’t help but feel a sense of trepidation as I make my way down to the main floor. I see no one around as I descend the stairs, and it isn’t until I reach the bottom that I hear giggles coming from the kitchen.

A soft gasp escapes my lips as I round the corner and am met with a scene that takes me completely by surprise. Fabrizio, having swapped his dark suit for a pair of faded jeans and a snug t-shirt, stands at the stove, spoon in hand, seasoning what smells like homemade pasta sauce. The rich aroma of garlic and basil wafts through the air, and my stomach growls in response. I suddenly realize just how hungry I am. Flynn is perched on the kitchen counter, eyes fixed on his father’s every move as he helps with the cooking. Maddy sits on the floor, clutching a doll and singing a little tune to herself, her face alight with joy. A smile spreads across Fabrizio’s face as he glances down at his son, his previously hard features softened.

I am completely entranced by the heartwarming scene that unfolds before me. The man standing there bears little resemblance to the cold, calculating criminal who took me captive and demanded I was hispossessiononly mere hours ago. In this very moment, Fabrizio appears to be just an average, loving father, completely devoted to his children. I find myself unable to tear my gaze away from him, my heart aching with a strange sense of longing.

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