Page 16 of Illicit Temptation

“Hey, isn’t that the guy from Vegas a few years ago?” Larke motions to the double French doors to the party room where Trace’s girth nearly fills out both doors.

“It sure is.” I run a finger through my hair making sure any loose twigs from being thrown into a bed of pachysandras aren’t sticking out. All while ignoring the ache in my center feeling Trace’s thick massive cock grow from being pressed against me.

Did he really pound me for hours with that thing?

I can’t believe Balor gave Trace, who is clearly a psycho, a freakingdrone.

Trace lifted me out of the brush, and with a condescending pat on my ass, telling me to get back to work, he finished with Archer all beat to shit in his brother’s trunk.

For years, I’ve brushed off whoever Lachlan shipped out to me as a guard.Thisone will be the death of me.

I still have no memory of exactly how Trace and I ended up married, or the sex we had, which I’m sure was amazing. I never get that drunk. Must have been all the forbidden freedom of just being a woman spending the night with a breathtaking man.

My subconscious said yes to getting married for somereason. We were in Vegas after all, and deep inside, I guess the pragmatic me figured nothing that happens in Sin City is real.

The next morning, Trace could have stopped me from leaving and pried that elevator door open. But he didn’t. Maybe because my guard was there and he was wrapped in a bedsheet, my scent all over him. Maybe calling mehis wifeand making it seem like he wanted to stay married in his messages was a way to ensure I’d never tell my brothers what happened between us that night. They would have killed him had they found out he married meandfucked me when I was drunk.

For some months afterward, I considered the formal divorce route. After consulting Attorney Google, I found out it’s nearly impossible to divorce someone in absentia. When a spouse leaves the country, as Trace had with his business emergency, all kinds of notices had to be posted to give the spouse a chance to respond.

Like I’d be postingpublicnotices that I married someone after a drunk night in Vegas.

Me.

I could have consulted a real lawyer to find him, but Ido nottrust any attorney in this country to see my name andnotcall Harvard Law Graduate Eoghan O’Rourke. It made me sick to entertain the thought of a slimy lawyer trying to cash in on my secret.

So, I’d just been...ignoring it.

Acting like it didn’t happen. That it wasn’t real.

But, damn, he’s very real, standing there, staring at me, looking so damn gorgeous it hurts.

A flood of tension settles into my core like the suppressed memory of Trace Quinlan fucking me is trying to break through. A rush of heat on my neck hits me strong. That man is trouble. I married him, for crying out loud, which means he can make me lose control.

Control is my brand.

“You okay?” Larke asks me, nudging my arm.

“I’m always okay,” I mutter and never told her about my drunk-addled, amnesia-driven wedded bliss to Trace.

But my stomach won’t stop turning, thinking Archer would have hit me. I’d come to accept that my future had to be with a man like that. It’s the consequence of needing someone who will accept my family, a man who can stand up to my brothers, and whotheywill also approve of.

Sometimes I wonder, is there a man out there who’s balanced enough with that kind of power but would also be gentle with me? Someone who can respect a mature woman with her own life and career? Clearly, Archer didn’t. He just faked it all these years.

Hopefully, he’ll crawl home and remember this was a private matter between us. He made the stupid mistake of raising his hand to me, knowing my bodyguard,anybodyguard, is never more than a few feet away. Man, it killed me to know Trace and his brother Rhys were dealing with Archer when I wished they’d have held him for me so I could have kicked him in the balls.

I blow out a breath, hoping this doesn’t blow up in my face.

The next four hours of the party pass quickly. Larke and I jump to meet the needs of the guests. I plan parties from beginning to end, the venue being only a part of the package. I make all the calls busy clients don’t have time for. I rely on my subcontractors to fulfill their parts of the event. I don’t micromanage anyone’s business, but I always stay to oversee the whole event and step in when needed.

“Well done, Ms. O’Rourke.” The man of the hour, Edward, a handsome, older widower shakes my hand.

“Thank you, Mr. Coyle. The night isn’t over.”

“You’re right.” Edward’s voice gets low as he producesan envelope from his suit jacket. “This is a little something extra for you.”

With my eyes on the envelope, I remark on the obvious tip, “That’s not necessary. Your wonderful children took care of me.”

“I’d like to take care of you, too.” Coyle presses the envelope into my palm, the thickness of it surprising. “Care to join me in my hotel suite later tonight?”

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