Page 33 of Dangerous Temptation

The view from the Park Avenue penthouse was stunning.

Elena looked out of a window that competed with the clouds.

The altitude, the opulence and the magnitude of it all made her head reel.

The Art Deco limestone building gave a bird’s-eye view of Central Park and tree-lined boulevards.

It was the most coveted real estate in the city.

Yet the clouds hung low and fat, a familiar sight in a not so familiar world.

She turned away from the view to get her sea legs.

They’d only arrived a short time ago. She hadn’t yet seen all of the apartment, which took up the entire top floor, but in one sweep she recognised more of Alex here than she’d seen in the entirety of Wolfe Manor.

The penthouse was crisp and modern. The style was the reverse of the look-but-don’t-touch antiques of the main house.

Here, things begged to be touched. Everything from the curtains to the television to the lighting was controlled by the push of a button.

She should have expected nothing less from a technology guru.

Yet even with as much black-and-glass as she found around her, the place had more soul. More comfort. The sofa alone probably cost more than her yearly rent, but it begged her to curl up on it to watch the huge television that disappeared into the wall.

This was Alex’s true home. She swept her fingers over a plush recliner. He’d been torn away from this place and all his belongings to be put in a prison. They’d locked him in a barren cell with no diversions for that brilliant mind.

She bit her lip as she felt a pang. She couldn’t imagine how that must have felt. He’d had his freedom ripped away, but he was finally home for the first time in eighteen months.

And he’d brought her with him.

She took an uneven breath and perched on the arm of the chair to watch him.

He was speaking with his security people.

He was in full business-shark regalia: grey suit, blue tie and gleaming Ferragamo shoes.

He looked rich and powerful, but the tussled hair and dusty five o’clock shadow pushed the sex appeal into another realm.

She was wearing her Vera Wang blue sheath dress that fit her like a glove. She’d pulled her hair back in the clip that seemed to entrance him so, and new Jimmy Choo shoes smiled prettily from her feet. On the outside, they looked like a power couple. No traces of the nature lovers showed.

Yet he fit into this role so much better than she did.

‘Elena?’ He held his hand out to her. ‘Could you come here for a moment?’

She crossed the room to the foyer. It felt funny to be walking in heels, and it added another element to her gait. As properly as she was dressed, she felt sexy.

Apparently, it showed.

Alex’s gaze glinted and the bodyguards averted their gaze to become overly intrigued with the skylight.

‘I want to introduce you to the security team. This is Smith, Hanson and Vasquez. If you need anything at any time, you can go to them.’

‘Hello.’ She looked over the trio and tried not to be intimidated.

Smith and Hanson were the size of linebackers, while Vasquez was whipcord lean.

They all had that dangerous quality to them that made a woman’s radar ping.

With their concrete chins and scarred knuckles, she was glad they were on Alex’s side.

‘Gentlemen,’ he said, looping an arm proprietorially around her waist. ‘This is Elena.’

So he had seen the male appreciation in their eyes.

‘Miss,’ Smith said.

‘Good day,’ Hanson greeted.

Vasquez merely nodded his head.

‘Whatever she wants, she gets.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Alex turned to her. ‘If I’m not around, you go to them, but don’t ask them to do anything that would put you in danger.’

‘Danger?’

‘You never know which way a crowd will turn, ma’am,’ Smith explained.

A crowd. The paparazzi, protestors and gawkers would soon be here. She knew they were going to congregate.

Alex nodded in dismissal. ‘Thank you. That will be all.’

The three men turned like soldiers who’d been given their marching orders. They left as silently as they’d appeared.

Elena looked up into Alex’s face. He appeared calm and in control. He was back in the scene and on his game.

He was also more closed off than she’d seen him in a long time.

He ran a finger along her cheek. ‘You’re pale.’

It had already been a challenging day. ‘I’ve discovered I’m not a fan of helicopter rides.’

He pulled her over to the bar and took his place behind it. He searched briefly before finding another bottle of the white wine she liked so well.

He popped the cork like an expert. ‘You seemed to enjoy the flight.’

That part had been thrilling. She’d loved the views of the lake and the countryside and Bedford. Things had gotten a bit too exciting when they’d made it to the city. ‘The flying part is fine. It’s the landing I could do without.’

They’d used the East 34th Street heliport, which had the FDR overpass practically on top of it. The approach had been nerve-wracking, but once they were on the ground, the location was convenient. A limo had been waiting only steps away, and the drive to the penthouse had been short.

She took the glass he handed her and sipped. She looked at him over the edge of the flute. ‘How does it feel to be back?’

He unbuttoned his jacket and glanced around the place. As she watched, the line of his jaw hardened.

‘Like it’s about damn time.’

She recognised that cool, determined look, but she could appreciate it better now. ‘What are your plans?’

That sharp grey gaze landed on her. ‘Our plans.’

Warmth unfurled in her chest. She was glad he considered this a partnership, but she was definitely the weaker link. She wasn’t as brave as he was or as focused. People were still angry, and they had questions. His return would poke the hornets’ nest.

If anyone recognised her, that would only compound the problem.

‘Easy.’ Rounding the bar, he took her hand.

She didn’t know who needed the other’s support more right now.

Together, they walked back to take in the spectacular view.

The sky was heavy. Dark and moody. It was the same sky that hovered over the rural part of the state, but the feel of the city was entirely different.

New York had an energy like no other. It was stimulating and scary.

Everything was going in top gear. Part of Elena craved that energy and wanted to dive back into it.

Yet a bigger part of her wished she was in the peaceful, secluded confines of the lake house.

She sipped from her glass again, and he squeezed her hand.

‘Are you ready for the board meeting tomorrow?’ she asked.

‘I’ve read all the materials. It’s going to be contentious.’

Couldn’t anything be easy any more? She worried about him walking alone into that meeting, but she knew, if she went, it would only cause even more of a distraction.

She’d read the materials, too, and the company was in chaos.

Alex might not have any connection with Wolfe Financial on paper, but it had been in his family for over a hundred years.

Someone needed to do something. The board itself had been floundering.

‘How are you going to reclaim your good name?’ She hoped he was going to step up. WF needed someone who knew how to take control and wasn’t afraid to make the tough decisions. Right now, the financial institution was leaderless.

He looked pensive as he swirled his drink. ‘There is no good Wolfe name any more.’

She breathed slowly. That was right. His grandfather was still out there, running from his responsibilities. Then again, the Bardot name had lost its lustre, too.

He tossed back a gulp of whiskey, gritted his teeth and put the empty glass on an end table. ‘I’m not going to fight it any more.’

Her hair swished as her head swung around. ‘Why not?’

She’d never considered him to be one who would just take the abuse and slander.

‘There’s no use looking back.’ He smiled harshly. ‘They say that the best revenge is living well.’

She frowned. ‘You don’t mean that.’

‘The hell I don’t.’ He waved his hand over the city. ‘I’m done hiding, and I’m not about to apologise.’

There it was, that anger that poked through the surface every so often. It had made fewer appearances recently, but she was beginning to understand it wasn’t going away. That anger was bone deep inside him.

She put down her drink and moved closer. As warm as his body was, he was stiff and uncompromising. She cosied up to him, trying to take some of that anger away. She knew she had power over it, and it didn’t scare her.

His fury was justified. He’d taken the brunt of the blame in the scandal, simply because he’d been available. Bartholomew hadn’t been around and her father had been dead. Alex had a right to be outraged, but she didn’t like how it ate him up from the inside.

She spread a hand over his chest above his heart, and he wrapped his arms around her.

‘You think I should beg for forgiveness.’

She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t. But you have to understand the way people think. Your grandfather still hasn’t faced the accusations, and you’re the closest thing to him.’

‘I’m not my grandfather.’ Alex snorted in derision. ‘And he won’t be saying he’s sorry, that’s for sure.’

Her fingers paused where she was stroking his tie.

Letting go of her, he drew a hand through his hair. ‘He never apologised for anything he did in his life. Ever.’

Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked fast. The bastard. How could someone do the things that man had done and not feel the slightest bit of remorse?

Then again, her father had never said he was sorry either.

Not even in his suicide note.

She closed her eyes and cleared her throat.

‘I’m nervous about this,’ she confessed. ‘Maybe returning to New York wasn’t such a good idea.’

‘There’s no going back now.’ He cupped her chin. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.’

‘But who’s going to protect you?’