Page 7 of Filthy Rich Temptation

2

SADIE

Seven Years Ago…

‘Right, I’m tapping out,’ Taylor says, coming to a rolling stop as we hit the edge of the park, 5k into what was supposed to be a 10k run. ‘I’ve got a client in two hours, and this body isn’t going to preen itself.’

‘Ha! You could show up like that and the guy would probably double your rate,’ I say, bouncing from one foot to the other, still high on adrenaline. And I’m not even kidding. She’s tall, glossy-black-haired perfection – like if Wonder Woman and Black Widow had a baby, raised it on protein shakes and Pilates, and gave it a supernatural aversion to sweat. Boom: DominaTay!

‘Tell her, Theo.’

‘Hell no,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘Too weird.’

‘Weird, huh?’ Taylor cocks a perfectly manicured brow. ‘Thanks.’

‘You know what I mean,’ he says, hands gripping his hips as he pants for air, his ripped physique in a compression tee making my heart dance harder than the run ever could. ‘It’d be like telling my sister I think she’s hot.’

‘You know we’re not blood, right?’ I cut in before I can stop myself, aiming for playful but hearing the edge in my own voice. Because the truth is, I’m crushing on him. Hard. Have been for as long as I can remember, and this past year? It’s only gotten worse. Watching him unravel after his dad died, seeing the softer, broken parts he let no one else near… it’s wrecked me in the best, most irreversible way. I’m hooked. Head over heels.

Twelve-year age gap? Pfft!

He glances at me, his expression unreadable. ‘Doesn’t make it okay.’ Then he looks to my sis. ‘Sorry, Tay. Never gonna fancy you.’

‘And on that amazing note,’ she says, hazel eyes sparkling with laughter, ‘I’ll see you both later. Try not to kill him, sis. We’re not as young as you remember. No matter how much we’d kill to be eighteen again.’

‘Geez, Tay. You make yourself sound ancient.’

‘After that run, Ifeelancient. And I need these legs in prime condition for tonight’s black-tie gig.Ciao ciao.’

She jogs off, ponytail swinging, fingers fluttering high in farewell… and somehow looking more energised than she did ten minutes ago.

‘You think she’s going off to finish the other 5k alone?’ I say.

‘If you’re asking whether she wanted to escape your pacing, then yes. Completely possible.’

‘So why aren’t you following her?’

He shrugs, and that grin I know too well tugs at his lips. ‘What can I say? Your pacing does it for me. Move it, Gonzales.’

‘Gonzales?’ I raise a brow.

‘Speedy? The cartoon mouse?’ He lets out a strangled laugh. ‘Ok-ay. Not feeling old. Not feeling old at all…’ And then he takes off.

‘Hey! Wait up!’ I call, grinning as I chase after him.

We settle into a rhythm side by side again, his pace way more brutal than mine ever was.

‘So,’ he says, after several racing minutes of silence. ‘How have things been since you dropped the beauty-school bombshell?’

I roll my eyes. ‘She’s still pissed. Told me it’s not a real career. Which is hilarious, considering she runs an escort agency.’

‘She just worries about you.’

‘Tell me something I don’t know. But she can’t have it all her way. She doesn’t want me in her business because she doesn’t think it’s suitable and I?—’

He loses his footing and I flick out a hand, stopping just short of his bicep. ‘You okay?’

‘Yep!’ He stares resolutely ahead, jaw clenched. Then, ‘You were saying?’