Page 33 of Tempted By the Bosshole

“Marrying Isabella?”

“Yes, especially without a prenup. You lost your ass in your divorce from Julia.”

“This time, there will be no divorce.”

“You can’t know that.”

“She wants stability and security. I’ll give her those things.”

“You gave those to Julia and?—”

“She didn’t want them.” My ex-wife wanted to make partner at her law firm and take another man’s cock. She didn’t have a sentimental or maternal bone in her body.

Isabella seems like Julia’s opposite.

“When your divorce was final, you swore you were never getting married again.”

I tug at my bow tie. “Things change. People change.”

“Sure, but don’t you think marrying this girl you barely know is taking your revenge too far? I was all for it when I thought you planned to take her to bed once or twice. You’d get what you needed to let go of the past, and she’d get a valuable life lesson about trusting the wrong people. Everyone would go on, and that would be the end. But marriage?”

How do I explain that I’m dangerously close to falling for Isabella Shay? Of course she’s gorgeous, but it’s not her looks. Her other intangibles attract me more. She’s smart. She’s kind. She’s eager in bed, responsive as hell, and she looks at me like I’m a god every time I make her come. And she’s so real. The way she clings to me when I fuck her… It’s not just the pleasure. She yearns for something, and based on her history—her parents divorcing, her mom dying, her father skipping out—she wants everything I crave. Family. Future. Forever.

Yes, I drew Isabella into my web for payback. And I’m still getting an epically satisfying revenge…but I’m shocked by how important this girl has already become.

After tonight, after she’s your wife and we’ve started our lives together, how will you feel about her then?

It’s a terrifying but unavoidable question.

“Just…reserve judgment until you’ve met her.”

My brother sighs. “It’s not her I’m questioning. Laurel texted and said she’s lovely. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“I’ve got everything under control.”

“Do you?”

Scowling, I turn to him. “Do you have her wedding band?”

“Of course. And I had Laurel give her maid of honor yours. But?—”

“Thank you.”

“Damn it, Nate. Please think about what I’ve said.”

“I have. She’ll come through those double doors any minute, and I have zero hesitation. She’s going to give me everything I want.”

Steve gapes at me. “Holy shit, are you going to?—”

“Yes. Of course.” I turn to him, willing him to understand. “She’s my last chance.”

My brother looks ready to object. Thankfully, the music in the hotel’s swanky wedding chapel saves me from hearing it.

I look up and see who I presume is Jen Simpson, a tall brunette with curls swinging around her elbows, big doe eyes, and a pillowy pink mouth that invites a fucking. I’m not interested, but I see the appeal. According to my private investigator, Jen has a colorful love life. More importantly, she’s been a devoted friend to Isabella since they were kids. She’s hardcore loyal to my bride. That’s what matters.

“Maid of honor?” Steve asks.

I nod. “Jen.”

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