Temptation Read online

  I smile. I scrub his scalp for a few more minutes and he hums pleasantly in the back of his throat.

  “Can you stand so I can rinse the soap out?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” he replies, and stands up from the bench.

  His muscular chest is suddenly directly in front of my face and I swallow thickly. He’s gorgeous. Model gorgeous. Siva has to be the most handsome men alive. I want to run my fingers over the contour of his abs, over his muscular arms.

  Sloane. Oh, my God. Stop it. Stop it right now. This is insane. You can’t be thinking these things about Siva or anyone. You just lost Dev. Are you sick in the head? Get a grip already. This can’t happen. It won’t happen.

  I swallow past the lump in my throat and climb up on the bench so I can help him rinse the soap from his hair. I’m thankful for the bench since he’s at least a foot taller than me—though at my short stature it’s not hard to be taller than me.

  Short and chubby. That’s me.

  He chuckles. “Needed a boost, huh?”

  “I’m short. I can’t help it.” I stick my tongue out at him.

  The soapsuds gradually disappear from his thick, inky black hair.

  “All done,” I announce.

  “Thanks.”

  I turn the shower off and open the glass door. I grab a towel and toss it to Siva and then grab one for myself.

  “Aspirin and antibacterial ointment?” I ask him since I have no idea where it is.

  He grins and points to a closet door. I open it up and find a little mini pharmacy inside. He has a surplus supplies of everything. I grab the bottle of aspirin and ointment. He has a cup beside his sink and I fill it with water and hand him two pills. He chugs them down and hands the cup back to me.

  “Anything else, Dr. Campbell?” he jokes.

  “Sit,” I say, motioning to the toilet.

  He puts the lid down and sits down, eyeing me.

  I squirt some of the ointment onto my finger and gently dab at his cuts.

  “I don’t like seeing you hurt,” I whisper when he winces from the pressure.

  He jumps as if startled.

  “Really?” he asks, surprised.

  I shrug my shoulders. “I worry about you. Even more so now,” I say, motioning to his face as I put the cap back on the ointment.

  “No one’s ever worried about me before,” he says, sounding like a lost little boy.

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “It’s true,” he laughs cynically.

  I put the ointment and medicine away and turn back to him.

  “I think you can manage to get your own clothes on,” I say and start to shiver from the cold. I’ve been cold, but now with no task at hand my body seems to be solely focused on the temperature.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to help me?” He grins roguishly and I’d be lying if I said my stomach doesn’t flip the teeniest tiniest bit.

  “I’m sure,” I say, shaking with cold.

  His face turns concerned. “You better get some dry clothes on before you get sick.”

  “Yeah.” I turn to leave, but look back. “You’ll be okay?”

  “I’m not as drunk as I looked,” he says softly.

  “Really?” I ask with a quirked eyebrow.

  “No.” He grins. “I’m completely wasted but unlike most people I can hold my liquor.”

  “Sure,” I say, not sure if I believe him. Could it all have been an act? I don’t know.

  I leave his room and head down the hall to mine. I strip myself of my dripping wet clothes and pull on a pair of lavender shorts and a white button down shirt once belonging to Dev before I claimed it as my own.

  Exhausted, I climb in the bed and turn off the light.

  Just as I’m about to drift off asleep the door to my room opens.

  Siva stands there in gray pajama pants and a black long-sleeved shirt.

  “Siva?” I inquire curiously.

  I can see his ears turn red and then it spread to his cheeks. He keeps his head turned slightly away, as if he’s scared to look at me.

  “Sloane, I was … uh … wondering … can I sleep in here tonight?”

  I gape openly at the handsome man standing in my doorway.

  Any other time or place and the answer would be a resounding hell yes.

  But this was Siva, and I was Sloane, and this shouldn’t be happening.

  The word no is on the tip of my tongue, but it won’t come out. The word is lodged there, choking me, so instead, I blurt, “Yes.”

  He smiles shyly, clearly having expected me to say no like I should have.

  But around him I’m learning I can never do what I should. It’s like my brain shuts down and stops computing all together around him. Logic goes flying right out the window.

  He climbs under the covers on the other side of the bed. The bed is a king size so there’s practically room for two other people between us, but right now it hardly seems like enough space. My breath is short and I can barely form a thought so I have no idea how I’m actually going to sleep with him so close.

  “Thanks,” he says, getting situated. “I … uh … I’ve never actually slept with someone before.”

  “What?” I gasp in disbelief and he laughs.

  “Not like that, I’m no virgin, but I’ve never slept with someone before. This is new for me.”

  “Then why now?”

  “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I think maybe I feel safe with you.”

  My breath stutters at his admission.

  “I’m exhausted,” I say, even though now I feel wide-awake with him so close.

  “Me too,” he says, scooting under the covers and turning on his side.

  “Goodnight,” I murmur.

  “Goodnight, Sloane.”

  ***

  Somehow I did manage to fall asleep and when I wake up I’m literally draped over top of Siva like some sort of tree sloth. His scent invades my nose where my face is pressed into his neck. I lift my head and find in sleep he’s like a whole different person. So peaceful and uncomplicated. His face is free of tension.

  I gently extract myself from his arms, which he has wrapped around me, and climb out of the bed.

  I instantly miss his warmth. I look longingly at him for a moment before I force myself into action. I grab some clothes and head into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

  I take a hot shower and scrub my skin until it’s a soft pink. I’m trying desperately to get the smell of his skin off me, but it’s useless. It clings to my pores.

  I wash my hair, rinsing away last night’s stress, and hope and pray today will be better.

  I turn the water off and dry my body before wrapping the towel around my torso.

  The bathroom door opens suddenly and I pale.

  “Oh,” says Siva. “Sorry.”

  I hold the towel tighter to my body. I can’t believe I forgot to lock the door. When I lived with Dev we never locked the doors so I guess it was a leftover habit. I hope, at least.

  “I-It’s not a problem,” I stutter, wrapping my arms around myself.

  He motions behind him. “I’ll head back to my room.”

  “Yeah,” I say, nodding my head.

  The door closes behind him and I turn to face the mirror. I brace myself against the white marble countertop and take several deep breaths. I turn the water on and splash my face.

  “Get yourself together, Sloane,” I scold myself.

  My golden eyes gaze back at me. I can see the panic shimmering in their depths.

  Three days.

  Three days is all it took for Siva Kapur to burrow himself underneath my skin.

  ***

  “Scrambled eggs?” Siva asks as I slide onto a stool in the kitchen.

  “Yes, please,” I reply, my stomach rumbling a little too loudly for my liking.

  He slides them onto a plate, the steam wafting off them.

  He’s already dressed for work in a sharp green suit with a whit
e shirt and tie. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone wear a green suit, and if I’d thought to imagine it I wouldn’t have pictured it looking nice. But it does.

  He sits down beside me and pours syrup over his eggs. I can’t help but laugh.

  “You do that too?” I ask.

  “What?” he responds, not knowing what I’m talking about.

  “The syrup thing,” I clarify. “Dev always used to do the same thing.”

  Siva shrugs. “Our mom did it,” he says. “Want to try?”

  “Sure,” I say and he dumps a generous amount of syrup onto my eggs.

  “Whoa, that’s enough,” I commanded and he chuckled.

  “Sloane, uh …,” he begins, clearing his throat. “About last night …” He looks around shiftily and I straighten, bracing myself for whatever rude comment is about to come flinging out of his mouth.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say before he can speak, hoping to shut him down. I don’t need my feelings hurt this early in the morning.

  “I … I’m not normally like that.” He runs his hands through his hair in frustration but it stays perfectly in place. “I feel very protective of you,” he admits so softly it’s no more than a breath.

  “I have a question for you,” I start, hesitantly gauging his reaction.

  He stiffens and tugs on his green suit jacket. “Go ahead.”

  “Why do you always wear long-sleeved shirts?” I ask.

  He swallows thickly and squirms in his seat.

  “You know why,” he says, looking down at his plate.

  I nod my head. “Your scars, I know. But … how did you get them?”

  He slams his hand against the counter. His jaw tightens and his teeth clench. He turns to me and his violet eyes burn with fire. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes?” I speak hesitantly, but it comes out sounding like a question.

  His face softens at my hesitance. He takes a breath to prepare himself and then plunges on. “My father threw me through a window.”

  I gasp in horror. “No.”

  “Yes, he did. That was ten years ago.” Siva takes a sip of his juice. “I never did live up to what he wanted me to be. I was the oldest and he wanted me to follow in his footsteps. I wanted to please him but I went through a bit of a rebellious stage. Well, rebellious is a bit of an understatement,” he concedes. “It’s funny now … Rajas disowned me but I’m the one who succeeded. Now I’m his biggest rival in business. My dad wasn’t always the hardened man you see today. My father changed after my sister died. He blamed me for her death. He drove my mom away and then he nearly killed me. Only Devak stayed by his side. Maybe that makes Devak the better man but after everything he did I had no respect for my father.”

  “Sister? I didn’t know you had a sister,” I breathe in shock.

  He nods his head. “Her name was Saia. She killed herself when she was only fourteen,” he whispers.

  Saia. The name he has tattooed on his chest.

  “I’m not surprised you didn’t know about her. My dad pretended she had never existed after she died and Devak followed suit. I couldn’t forget though.” He hands his head as if in shame. “She doesn’t deserve to be forgotten. She was the best of us.”

  “That’s horrible,” I say and mean it.

  “What’s done is done. You can’t change the past.” He clears his throat and grabs our plates. “We better get to work.”

  “Oh, right,” I say, startled. I want to hear so much more about his life, to learn everything. I’m beginning to see I didn’t know Dev at all, and it makes me sad. How could I live and love someone for so long and not even know he had a sister? What other things had he not told me? Was it his version of protecting me or did he not love me or trust me enough to know?

  I stand and smooth the skirt of my dress down. It’s not a fancy dress, not like the one I wore the first night here for dinner. Honestly, I own most of my dresses for comfort and hardly care what they look like.

  “Where’s Jacob?” I ask, looking around.

  “He left already,” says Siva, grabbing his stuff and heading for the door.

  “I’m sure Mac will be awesome today,” I say, sarcastically.

  “That guy is a jerk,” snaps Siva, and his fists clench at his sides. “You should stay away from him.”

  “Thanks for the advice but I think I can decide for myself.”

  I already avoid Mac as much as I can anyway. It’s not always easy when he’s popping his head over the partition like a whack-a-mole but at least I try.

  “Of course,” he says, and his violet eyes flash.

  I strap my messenger bag across my shoulder and grab my purse before climbing into the elevator, which Siva keeps open for me. The ride down to the garage is silent.

  Siva unlocks the Porsche and I scurry in before the moody man can decide to leave me behind.

  The ride to Avid News is as silent as the one in the elevator was. I keep wringing my hands together imagining five hundred different scenarios for my day. I hope Mac won’t bother coming in today, but I’m sure my luck isn’t good enough. Siva parks at the front of the building. I open the car door and start to get out out but I’m pulled roughly back inside by Siva.

  “Sloane,” he says and clears his throat. “I sincerely hope I did not cause a problem for you.”

  I try to smile. “It’ll be fine,” I say, with a dismissive wave of my hand.

  “Still,” he mutters. “My behavior was careless and I put you in a difficult situation with your job.”

  “Siva, I really have to go,” I say, pointing to the building and trying to untangle myself from his grip.

  “Right,” he coughs and lets go. “Watch out for that guy. I mean it. I don’t trust him.”

  “I will,” I say, hoping to alleviate some of his worry. “Will I see you for dinner?”

  “Certainly,” he says, and straightens in his seat, tugging on his suit jacket.

  I close the car door and wave. I don’t know if Siva waved back. The windows are far too tinted.

  I scurry up the cement gray steps and hustle into the building. I can hear fingers clacking on keyboards and the sound of the coffee maker percolating. I make my way to my desk bracing myself for Mac’s wrath. I know he’ll be mad about the scuffle with Siva.

  He isn’t at his desk and I send up a silent prayer. I slide into my chair, pull out my computer, and read over the assignment April has left on my desk.

  I’ve started typing when a dark, ominous shadow creeps over me. I shiver from the sheer feeling of the presence.

  “Sloane.”

  So much for my luck.

  “Mac,” I say, saving my document and sliding my chair around so I can lean back and look up at him.

  His right eye is an ugly purple and green. Like Siva, cuts litter his face. His lip is split and he all around looks like hell.

  “Whew, you look terrible,” I say lightly, hoping for levity in this situation.

  He laughs but it isn’t his normal laugh. For some reason the sound frightens me. My grip tightens on my chair.

  “I’m sure you already know what happened. That psycho boyfriend of yours attacked me,” Mac glowers.

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I defend, bristling.

  Mac leers down at me. “I don’t care what he is. The guy is crazy and I think you owe me.”

  I gulp. This is bad.

  “A drink. One. That’s all I ask,” he says, flipping his shaggy curls over his eye so he can glare at me better.

  “One?” I swallow thickly.

  “One.” He grins, realizing he’s winning.

  “Fine,” I whisper back, even if I don’t want to agree.

  “Tonight,” he demands. “Across the road. We can walk over after work,” he says, smiling like the Cheshire cat.

  I nod my head and he takes it as the affirmation he needs and bounces over to his desk.

  At least someone is happy.

  Whenever you’re dreading somet
hing, the time beforehand always flies by and that’s what happens to me as the minutes tick by until I have to share a drink with Mac.

  Just one.

  Only one.

  One.

  I hope.

  I bury my head in my hands. Was I never allowed one day of peace?

  I pull out my iPhone and send Siva a quick text telling him I’m working late and I’ll take a taxi home. There’s no way in hell I’m going to tell him I agreed to have a drink with Mac. On the other hand, maybe I should. That way I would be able to get out of it. But knowing Mac, he’ll only finagle me into it at another time. It’s best to do it and get it over with.

  I shove my hair back and grab a hair tie from my desk drawer. I tighten the band around my hair until it’s almost painful.

  My phone dings with a return text from Siva. He says not to bother with a taxi he’ll come get me when I’m done. I text back and say thanks. At least I won’t have to pay for a taxi.

  I finish my article and turn it into April. Mac is right behind me. He touches me briefly on my waist, startling me.

  It’s going to be a long evening.

  I go back to my desk, turn my computer off, and gather up my bags.

  Mac comes back grinning.

  “Ready for a drink?”

  No.

  “Yes,” I say instead.

  “Great.” He grins, completely oblivious to the fact I don’t want to do this and he coerced me into it.

  “As friends,” I add bluntly. “Just two friends getting a drink and hanging out,” I clarify for him before he gets any ideas.

  “Of course,” he says, but his smile dims. “Just friends.”

  I smile in a friendly manner, I don’t want to hurt the guy after all. “Well, let’s go,” I say, motioning to the door.

  He instantly brightens again for which I’m thankful.

  We go out and across the street to the bar. TV’s blare with some sport—sports hold no interest for me—and men yell loudly while swinging their beers around. Lovely, just lovely.

  Everything in the bar is dark blue and dark wood tones. Very manly.

  Mac sidles up to the bar where there are two empty seats. He pulls one of the leather stools out for me.