Page 3 of Naughty or Nice

‘You want me—’

‘Yes, I want you.’ He launches the words at me, so certain. ‘But that’s not love.’

‘It is—because I love you.’

‘You don’t love me. You’re infatuated, confused, doped up on hormones.’

My heart starts to split in two, ice running through the middle. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about...’

‘I know you and your family are all that I have. That without you I have nothing.’

I don’t know what to say to that. I know the truth of it. But it makes my reasoning all the more valid. It’s so simple.

‘Then accept that we love one another and that my family will be happy for us. Once they adjust.’

His head shakes violently. ‘No, they won’t. Don’t you see? Nate was banging this door down to stop us. He knows.’

‘But—’

‘No, Eva, he’s already made it clear you’re off-limits and, hell, he’s right. What happens to me a year or two down the line when this...whatever this is...fizzles out?’

‘It won’t.’

‘You can guarantee that, can you?’

‘I... I...’

He rakes both hands through his hair, his torment written in his haunted brown eyes. Eyes I’ve dreamed about for so long.

And then he’s turning away and heading for the door.

‘Please,’ I hear myself say. ‘Don’t go.’

He doesn’t even pause—doesn’t even look back as he unlocks the door and slips away. Leaving me standing there, my heart in tatters, as I realise he means it.

That no matter how much I love him he can never be mine.

CHAPTER ONE

THIS IS MY MOMENT. For the first time in my life I know that I’ve made it. That I stand apart. My family name hasn’t handed me this. Aside from a small investment from dear old Ma and Pa, this is all me.

My baby is finally ready, and companies are clambering over themselves to head up its manufacture, its distribution, wanting to join forces, to conquer the field.

But I have weeks to decide.

Tonight is about enjoying the buzz...feeding it.

The room is fit to bursting with prospective producers and vendors alike. And here’s me, confident in a festive red silk dress that just sweeps the floor, my blonde hair knotted up high, sophisticated, yet softened by the loose locks that fall free. The delicate bubbles of the champagne in my hand are feeding my ego and my mood to perfection.

‘Well, you did it, angel.’

I turn and lift my chin to meet my father’s eye. I can see the admiration in his gaze—something I’ve hungered for since I found I could outrun my brother at fourteen.

It’s not that I’m naturally competitive, but when you’re always deemed the less capable, the girl, it can happen. Even more so when your brother can apparently do no wrong, when in truth he does plenty wrong, and still has admiration dished out in spades.

‘I know.’

He tenses, and I fear he’s read the bitterness in my tone. But, no, his eyes leave me and narrow. Something else has caught his attention.