Naughty Temptations

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

DELANIE

Insisting on coming home was stupid. Sure, all my things I need to get ready for work are here, but Ky isn’t. I laid in bed staring at the ceiling most of the night, missing Ky and thinking about what happened on Friday.

I want Boyd Logistics but hate the idea of the company floundering while tied up in the courts. Winning back my birthright won’t be worth it if the company suffers in the process. I’d rather see Ky running it as part of Harrington’s holdings instead of watching as it withers and dies while I lose my mother in the process. Not that we’ve ever had a great relationship but she never wanted to run the company and I know she resents how it’s dominated her life.

I’m going to have to let it go—let the merger stand. At least I’ll have Ky.

God, merely thinking of him makes my heart lighter and brings a smile to my tired face.

I refuse to be embarrassed that everyone at Harrington knows Ky and I are sleeping together. And I will not let those who frown on the relationship because we are now technically stepsiblings bring me down.

I am a professional, damn it.

Dressing in a scarlet red power suit and a sexy pair of strappy black heels, I spend extra time with my makeup, covering up the dark circles under my eyes. Pulling my hair into a messy yet stylish chignon, I grab my purse and phone, ready to face whatever the day brings with Ky by my side.

Pulling open the door, I stumble back in surprise at seeing my mother standing on the other side wearing a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin.

“What are you doing here?

She breezes past me into the apartment then turns.

“I came to stop you from going back to Harrington and embarrassing yourself again.”

“W-what?”

“Darling,” she croons. Oh boy, that alone tells me I’m in for a boatload of her drama. Sauntering back over, she closes the door, takes my arm and guides me to the couch. “Sit.”

“No.” My backbone goes ramrod straight and I stare back in defiance. “Whatever it is you’ve come to say, get to the point. I refuse to be late to work.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Lanie. There’s no reason for you to go back to Harrington.”

“Mother,” I growl, a wave of dread cramping my stomach.

She waves a hand dismissively. “I was surprised you weren’t at the meeting Kyler called.”

That statement leaves me stunned speechless.

“He arranged everything early Sunday morning. I just signed the papers.” She scowls at me. “Didn’t he tell you what he was doing?”

My body feels cold but my torso has broken out in cold sweat and I feel like the steel bones of a corset are squeezing my chest, severely limiting the amount of oxygen going into my lungs. I have no way to respond because my heart is a lump in my throat. Whatever my mother has done, it’s bad. Really bad. All the signs are there in her behavior. I want to stick my fingers in my ears and chant la-la-la-la so I can’t hear the blow being delivered.

“That boy.” She clucks her tongue and shakes her head.

“Mother,” I croak weakly.

“Fine, fine. Considering your outburst on Friday, the merger paperwork was never filed. In fact, we tore it up and signed a new agreement giving sole ownership of Boyd Logistics to Kyler.”

Everything dims and it’s as if I’m seeing and hearing through a thick wall of molasses. But one thought materializes in a brain that has turned to mush. What did she get in return for giving Kyler my company? Because I know there’s something. Something big.

But the thought slips away because the room is spinning like a drunken merry-go-round and my body is being pulled by the g-force. Reaching out, I latch onto a console table, but the force is too strong. The table and I are being sucked into the void.

CRACK!

A cold hand slaps my cheek and I fight to open my eyes.

CRACK!

The other cheek is slapped and I come out of it fighting.

Well, that was my intention. The punch that was supposed to cause a TKO barely brushes over my mother’s cheek. Looking around, I realize that I’m on the floor, which is littered with the contents of the table I knocked over. Camille is on her knees peering into my face with what seems to be genuine motherly concern.

Ha, as if.

“Christ, Delanie. You scared the crap out of me. Don’t ever do that again.”

“Sure thing, mommy dearest,” I mumble. “I’ll try not to go into shock, have vertigo and pass out over something you’ve done to screw me over.”

“Oh, please,” she chastises. “It shouldn’t have come as a shock. You know I don’t like running the company. And I was certain Kyler would have told you.”

“No. My f**k buddy turned stepbrother did not tell me that he went behind my back and bought my company from his wicked stepmother. Sadly, that never came up in conversation.”

“Get over yourself, young lady. We did it for you.”

It started with a huff that turned into laughter. But it was the unpreventable snort that really made me lose it and I dissolved into hysterical laughter, rolling on the floor, hugging my belly.

Camille’s high heel stomping down way to close to my face snaps me out of it. Gathering myself, I slowly rise, adjust my jacket and face off with the b***h who has f****d with my life for the last time.

“Get out.”

Her brows furrow and she stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. Won’t know for sure until I have time to mentally process what’s happened.

“W-what?”

“Get. Out.” I speak slowly, enunciating each word clearly. Camille just continues to stare. Fine! I’ll make it crystal f*****g clear.

“Get the f**k out of my apartment and never, ever, come near me again. You are dead to me, you evil witch. You are not my mother.” Okay, that’s pretty brutal and over the top but I need her to leave. “As of this moment we share no connection. So go. Leave. And never come back.”

“Delanie Louise—”

“GET THE f**k OUT!” I yell it at the top of my lungs then go to the door, pull it open and extend an arm to show her the way.

“I’m sure your father is rolling over in his gave,” she’s muttering as she passes into the hall. I don’t hear the rest of what she’s saying as I slam the door behind her.

All the fight drains from me as the adrenaline rush bottoms out. Leaning back against the door, I sink down to the ground, wrap my arms around myself and this time, I cry. For the loss of my dad, the company, the connection I wish I’d shared with my mom. But most of all, I cry over Kyler’s part in this mess.

KYLER

Glancing down at my watch, I see that it’s almost lunchtime. My meetings with the lawyers took up most of the morning but we got a lot accomplished. Camille walked away happy with the document that gave her my interests in Harrington International. Then we got down to work.

My hand is sore from all the paperwork I initialed and signed. But it was all worth any discomfort because Boyd Logistics is now safely and irrevocably one-hundred percent owned by Delanie Boyd. Her mother can’t touch the company and no longer has any say in its operations.

God, that felt good. But it didn’t end there.

Considering the root cause of this disaster—Michael Boyd’s untimely death—I created a will. Never expected it to be so complicated but my attorney came up with numerous scenarios that were all worked into the document.

For example, should I have children when I die, all of my worldly possessions, including any business interests, will be divided equally among them. In the case of my passing before producing offspring, and if Delanie and I are still together, she gets everything. But the condition I liked considering the best—if Delanie and I are still together and have had children together, she gets fifty percent and the rest is divided equally among our children.

Holy s**t, what that does to me. Imagining marrying Delanie and having children with her makes my heart kick against my ribs and has me standing taller than normal.

Honestly, I’d never imagined a future beyond running Harrington International. But now, with Delanie in my life, my dreams are different. One where work is not what I live for but something I do to provide for my wife and children. Sure, I’ve given up my life’s work to this point but I have her. That makes me the winner.

I stop cold outside Delanie’s office door and rub a hand over the sudden ache in my chest.

I want that future. Her and kids. Want it bad.

“Are you all right?” Stacey asks, snapping me out of my daydreams.

“Fine.” I shrug it off. “Where’s Delanie?” I need to see her. Tell her the good news. Then drop down on one knee as beg her to be mine. Although, scratch that. A proposal should be romantic, well thought out. I’ll have to do put some thought into it. Go get my mom’s ring from the bank.

Stacey’s lips are pursed and she’s staring down at her hands.

“Stacey?” I question hesitantly. “Where is she?”

“She…uh. She didn’t come in.”

“WHAT?”

The admin’s eyes bug out and I struggle to be calm.

“What do you mean she never came in?”

“Uh…just that. She didn’t come to work today.”

What the f**k? Where is she? It’s almost noon? Is she okay?

“Did she call out sick?”

“No. She didn’t call. Didn’t come in.”

I slam my fist down on the desk and lean into her personal space. “And why the hell am I just hearing about this.”

“Y-you…uh…you gave orders not to be disturbed during your meetings.”

Stacey appears on the verge of tears so I back up a few steps and hold up my hands. “Okay. Okay. It’s fine. All good. I’ll just go call her.”

Turning and heading for my office, I pull out my cell, find her contact info and hit the call button. After four rings her voicemail picks up.

“Hi, this is Delanie. You know what to do.”

Fuck that. I end the call and open up our text thread.

Ky: Where are you?

Ky: Are you okay?

Ky: What’s going on?

I stare at the screen waiting to see the dots indicating that she’s typing a response but there’s nothing.

Ky: D? You’re freaking me out.

Still nothing. A sick feeling has my stomach turning over. I have to go find her.

Shoving the phone in my pocket, I’m out the door and halfway to the elevators when Dad intercepts me.

“You’re going the wrong way. The lunch meeting with Turner and Venkman is in the conference room.” He claps my shoulder and tries to turn me around.

Venkman. The name always made me think of Bill Murry playing Dr. Peter Venkman in Ghost Busters.

“Can’t.” I pull against his hold. “Have to take care of something.”

“Not an option,” Dad grumbles. “I can’t handle this meeting alone. You know all the data and analysis. I don’t.”

Fuck. I rake a hand through my hair, mind spinning for a valid excuse but I can’t dump this on Dad. This deal is my baby. And it will keep me tied up for a couple of hours. I sigh and head to the meeting with my father.

I can’t eat the lunch, not with my stomach coiled up in knots. Someone comments so I push the pasta salad around on my plate until I can toss the whole thing.

During our first break, I head to the john and whip out my phone. No texts. I call her again and this time don’t even get voicemail. She’s turned off her phone.

Not good.

When the meeting finally adjourns three hours later, I race out of the office as if my ass is on fire. There’s no response at her apartment and a neighbor threatens to call the cops if I keep banging on the door.

I text my attorney, who provides Camille’s address, but she’s not home either. Then it hits me that since they got married, maybe she’s at Dad’s. I leave skid marks on his tile drive that are going to piss him off but I couldn’t care less because I’m pretty much out of my mind with worry.

The housekeeper, Jodi, meets me at the door and directs me to the sunroom where Camille Boyd-Harrington is already redecorating. I don’t bother with niceties. I storm into the room and demand, “Where is Delanie?”

“Well hello, son. I didn’t expect to see you this afternoon.”

“Stop!” I hold up a hand. “I am not your son. Now tell me where the hell Delanie is?”

She pouts her lips and puts her hands on her hips. “Well, how would I know?”

“When’s the last time you saw her?” I demand.

She taps a red manicured nail against her lips and rolls her eyes upward making me want to knock the stupid expression of her face. I have no patience for dealing with Camille.

“I went to her apartment this morning after our meeting and she was fine. Well…”

“Well, what?” I ask from between gritted teeth.

Camille tsks then waves a hand dismissively. “She was fine after she got all dramatic and passed out. Well enough to scream at me and slam the door.”

Oh Christ.

An evil smile spreads over her botoxed lips. “I was surprised to learn you hadn’t told her about our business deal.”

Oh f**k. She only knows half the information, that Camille transferred ownership of Boyd Logistics to me. She doesn’t know the rest. I have to find her. Now!

“She’s not at the apartment. Where would she go?”

“I don’t know.” Camille resumes her thinking pose then strikes her finger up in the air as if she’s had an epiphany. “Did you try her cell phone?”

I want to strangle the b***h. And once again I’m wondering what the f**k my Dad saw in this woman to make him marry her. Christ!

“She’s not answering.”

“Well…” Camille drawls again, and I am actually picturing my hands wrapped around her neck. “She’ll come home when she’s ready. Then she’ll hide under the covers until I make her get up.”

The woman is completely useless. How can she not even know where her daughter goes when upset?

This time when I return to the apartment, I get the manager to open the door to check on Delanie. The place is empty. Finding the overturned table would have upset me if Camille hadn’t told me about Delanie passing out.

“f**k, D! Where are you?”