Page 6 of Taming Her Temptations

“They’re Midnight Sons. You know that song that Ruby was always playing last summer? Little Bird? That’s by them. You’ve enjoyed everything we’ve played for you by them. Great music.” My brother, the traitor, nods approvingly.

“I didn’t play that song that much, and it doesn’t matter because we don’t listen to them anymore.” I shrug.

“Ruby!” My dad exclaims, horrified by his usually polite daughter.

“Levi is Madison’s brother.” I interrupt him before he can scold me. “There is no way they are here for positive reasons.”

I haven’t shared too many details about Madison with my family because, well, it’s embarrassing. She is everything I’m not. She is in her early 20s and has her whole life ahead of her, and I’m thirty-three and had to move back in with my dad. She’s independently wealthy with access to all of her rockstar brother’s connections, while I was almost entirely reliant on Steven and now have nothing. She’s a blonde, rail-thin beauty and I’m just… me.

But they know her name, there’s no question about that. Because I paced around the entirety of this house for about three days straight muttering it when I first found out.

My family seems to get it. They all quiet down. My dad runs his hands along his white beard. My dad is nice, but he’s not a traitor. He’s fiercely loyal to me and my brother when he needs to be.

“Well, actually,” Asher’s voice breaks through the awkward silence. “We want to hire you.”

“Really?” Ryan and I say at the same time. That’s the last thing I was expecting him to say.

I look Asher in the eye. He has a gentle face and a slightly more reserved demeanor than his bandmates. He might even be a kind person under different circumstances. When I met him at the dinner last year, I immediately liked him. But I can’t trust these guys. Not after they served as Shithead Steve and Madison’s personal bodyguards earlier.

“We were asked to host the Ocean Guard Foundation Gala.” He continues. “And we’re completely out of our depth. Maria over at the Yacht Club said you organized it last year and that you also teach etiquette. Well, we need help with both.”

My mouth just hangs open for a moment until my dad knocks his foot against mine. Daisy giggles in my lap when he does.

“I teach etiquette to teenagers.” I squeeze Daisy tighter against me. “And yes, I did organize the gala last year but they kicked me out of that position this year as I’m no longer of their… What was it?” I cock my head in an exaggerated thinking pose. “I believe they said I wasn’t in the right frame of mind for that responsibility any longer. Also known as ‘no one wants a jilted ex-wife to be in charge of raising money.’”

“Listen,” Levi leans forward. “We’re not so into this idea either. But we’re trying to get settled in this town and we don’t know a damn soul, besides, well-” He pauses. Besides his sister and Shithead Steve. “Well, you get the point. So it’s either you taking our money or we have to find someone else.”

I adjust my posture, straightening my back. I’ve been a mess recently, and frankly, from what they’ve seen, I’m surprised that they would think I could help them at all. But I know that I can. Of course, I can. I’m the daughter of an artist in the smallest house in a town that has the wealthiest zip code in the whole United States. I’ve never fit in here and yet, I’ve hosted dozens and galas and fundraisers. Sure, partly because I married one of those rich kids from my town. But I taught myself every last thing there is to know about propriety, etiquette, and fitting in with the upper echelons of society, even though I could never really be one of them.

But their damn sister. If I help them, then I would be helping her. And the most shameful part of me wants to see her suffer. I want to see her try to blend in with Steven’s peers and flounder. It’s no secret that she’s incredibly wealthy, but that doesn’t matter here. Money can’t buy everything in this town. You’ve got to fit in too.

“No,” I shake my head emphatically. “I want nothing to do with your family.”

My dad hums in disapproval, while Daisy mimics me. “No, no,” she says, shaking her head in tandem. At least one person in the family is backing me up. I shoot a glare at my dad.

Levi leans back and sighs, running his hand through his perfectly tousled hair. Then he cocks his head and looks at me.

“Five thousand upfront. And then another five thousand every two weeks until the gala at the end of May.”

Ryan lets out a whistle. But Levi just looks like those numbers mean nothing to him.

“You’ll need to help us find dates, too.” He continues, sensing the offer gave him an upper hand. “Preferably dates who know the town and can navigate a black-tie gala.”

As repulsive as I find that caveat, for my current situation, his offer is life-changing money. The gala is about two months away. So if I accept, and I don’t quit or get fired (which are both big ifs), they would be paying me about twenty-five thousand dollars for two months of work. Not to mention, organizing a gala is something I used to do for free.

And I really need the money. Steven has essentially locked away everything from me and my only recourse is court. Most of my possessions are still in the house we shared, my credit cards have been canceled, and my personal bank account is quickly dwindling. I made the fatal mistake of believing him when he told me I didn’t need to worry about making money and should just concentrate on philanthropy. And now I’m living at my dad’s house with essentially only the designer clothes I had on my back when I got kicked to the curb. Twenty-five thousand would mean I could afford a lawyer to represent me against Steve.

“I’m paid weekly, not biweekly,” I say, pushing my luck. “My dad has the right to use your grounds. And you get my clothes from shithead Steve’s house, so I have something decent to wear again.”

“They didn’t let you take your clothes?” Asher’s voice is low and almost sounds angry. I’m surprised by how much I enjoy hearing his tone when he asks.

I shake my head no, meeting his pale blue eyes.

He swears under his breath. “We’ll get your clothes back, if you decide to work with us or not.”

I stifle a small smile that threatens to spread across my lips because that would lose me any upper hand.

“Deal,” Levi says.

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