Page 40 of Tender Temptation

At this point, we’re running a few minutes late, but my dad never rushes. Everyone adjusts to his schedule, and heknows it. We reach the conference room, he hands me a presentation folder and opens the door. I glance down and freeze.

This can’t be true. It’simpossible.

The McGloughlin Construction logo is embossed at the top of the proposal.

Cillian’s company.

My mind reels as I take my place next to my dad. Instinctively, I glance up and see the man I love looking at me in shock, though he’s trying to keep his composure. I try to communicate to him with my eyes. Tell him not to give himself away. He stares back at me, processing. A myriad of emotions flash in his eyes. Surprise followed by hope. Then pain. Confusion.

Devastation. Utter and total devastation.

Because of me.

“Cillian, this is my daughter, Ivy.” Dad places his hand on my back and I can’t help but flinch. I fix some sort of smile on my face until I hear him say, “She’s only eighteen, but finished high school and her business degree this year. I’m proud to say, she’ll attend Stanford Business School this fall to further her education before she takes her executive role at Bright Shipping.”

I didn’t think my life could getworse. I was wrong.

I stare at Cillian, horrified he’s finding out my biggest secret this way.

The look on his face might be unreadable to the room, but I’ve stared into those hazel eyes for hours. I know this man. He looks away, trying to hide his disgust for me after he learns the truth. I know what I’ve done is irreparable. He finally realizes how completely I’ve deceived him.

There’s no going back to the way things were.

I feel like I’m going to faint.

eighteen

Cillian

Later That Night

I’m drunk as fuck.

I’m holed up at my favorite low-key drinking hideout. The Central Tavern is steeped in 90s band nostalgia, with exposed brick walls lined with old concert posters from the grunge era. When I need a stiff drink, this is where I park my ass.

Nursing my fifth—maybe sixth—whiskey and savoring the burn as each sip goes down, I’m vaguely aware of arock band on stage, though I have no clue who it is. Around me, there’s a soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses.

None of it registers completely. All I can think about is Ivy and what a fucking mess I’m in.

Brock slides into the seat next to me, concern etched on his face. He’s a big guy, all muscle and gruff exterior, but he’s got a heart of gold. He’s been my best friend since we were kids, and he knows me better than anyone.

“Jesus, Cillian.” He takes in my disheveled appearance. “You look like shit. How long have you been here?”

“Fuck off.” I take a swig of my drink.

Undaunted, Brock signals the bartender and orders a beer before turning his attention back to me. “What’s going on? You’ve dodged my calls for two days.”

“It’s Ivy.” I run a hand through my hair, exhaling deeply. “She’s…fuck, Brock, she’s barely eighteen. The night I met her was her birthday.”

Brock’s eyes widen in shock. “Eighteen? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“She lied about her age. Hell, she lied about everything.” I finish my whiskey and signal for another. “She was a virgin and didn’t tell me. I feel like such a dirty fucker. I can never tell my family about this.”

He leans back and lets out a low whistle. “Rough. How did you find out?”

“Oh, in front of about a dozen people at Bright Shipping where I was making my final presentation,” I say bitterly. “Imagine my shock. She showed up at the meeting and sat next to Stanley-fucking-Bright and he introduced her as his daughter. I nearly shit my pants.”

Brock shakes his head, running a hand over his face. “Fuck. A hell of a way to find out.”

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