Page 3 of Moonlit Temptation

“You ditched me, Archer,” I reminded him as I stared at the cars zooming past.

“It was because?—”

“Because Dad, yes, I know. I don’t need a reminder.”

“Interrupt me one more time, Madelayne…” he growled.

“What’re you going to do? Jump on a plane and yell at me? Do it! At least then you’d be here!” I was being a brat. I knew this, but I couldn’t stop the verbal lashings. I was hurt. Betrayed. Lonely and abandoned.

You’d think after nineteen years I’d be used to it by now…

“I’m sorry, okay!” I could practically see him running his hands through his hair with how frustrated his words came out. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

I stayed quiet, familiar with this song and dance of his. He’d disappoint me, then buy me something in apology. We’d been doing it for years at this point and each gift was more elaborate than the last.

Last year, Archer forgot my birthday and to make up for it, he got me a limited edition skateboard that cost just over a grand.

Wonder what he was going to get me this time?

I was in need of some new wheels for one of my boards. Or maybe the skate shoes I’d been eyeing.

Just how guilty did he feel?

“What about Saint?” he asked, and I almost dropped my phone.

My stomach filled with swirls and knots at the mere mention of his name. Wicked eyes and a sinful smile invaded my thoughts.

Saint Delacore.

A man eight years older than me.

My brother’s best friend. And business partner.

My escape. My obsession.

“Wha—what?” I pushed past the lump that caught in my throat, trying not to focus on the spike my heart just took.

Was he offering me his best friend as penance? Surely not.

Unless…

With my free hand, I pinched the skin at my waist and flinched.

No, nope. Wasn’t dreaming.

Why was Archer offering Saint, then? It didn’t make sense. While Saint had spent a few years in London for university, he lived in Atlanta now.

Archer continued, unaware of the spiral my thoughts were on. “Call Saint up, he’s been there on business for the last two weeks, and have him take you to dinner or something.”

Saint was in London? Flutters erupted in my stomach over the prospect of seeing him.

“Are you pawning me off on your best friend out of guilt? He has to babysit me because you can’t?” Flashes of me and Saint sitting in a dimly lit restaurant in a romantic city swirled around my mind.

I bit my lip.

“Why do you have to make everything difficult?” He groaned in guilted agony.

Like he was one to talk.

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