Page 3 of Tempting All The Way

“To work here?” Alistair points to the ground.

“Yes, what the fuck is wrong with that?” I frown, getting slightly pissed off now.

“Ah, nothing. Good luck with that.” Nathan shakes his head.

Sure, my little sister has been known to be flaky, always late, and a little spoilt. Because well, she is. But I’m confident that this job is going to change that for her. It’ll give her direction, discipline, and something to look forward to other than partying and sleeping her days away.

Besides, I happen to love my sister, even when she’s a pain in my ass. When she called today and asked if there were any positions open, it was perfect timing. I’d just fired Tanya—or was it Tiffany? Doesn’t matter. The idiot spilt coffee all over me and then proceeded to start undoing the buttons of my shirt before sinking her hands inside and copping a feel.

And in true Christianson form, Lucy negotiated the salary. I’m paying her more than the award rate, more than I’ve ever paid a secretary before. Not that she needs it. I’m not sure why she’s doing this, but I wasn’t in the mood to question it too much. It wasn’t worth the effort.

Our family is old money. My sister and I both have trust funds that would fully equip us to never work a day in our lives. Not to mention, the companies we’ll eventually inherit. I’ve never been one to take the silver spoon lifestyle for granted though. I’ve always been goal-oriented; from a young age, I was headstrong about making it on my own. And I have. I’m a partner at Christianson, Miller, and Warner. Nathan and Alistair being the two other names on our wall.

Looking around my corner office, I can confirm I really have made it. I’m at the top of my game as one of Melbourne’s bestdefence attorneys. Nathan specialises in corporate law while Alistair’s speciality is family; they call himthe divorce kingbecause his clients always come out better off than their ex-spouses.

I made my way through university with academic scholarships. I never used a dime of my family’s money to get to where I am today. And that is something no one can take away from me. Does being a Christianson open doors that would otherwise shut in my face? Fucking oath, it does. But no one can choose the family they’re born in to. I’m just fucking blessed to have received the one I did.

“Who’s keen for the club tonight?” I ask, finishing my second glass of Scotch.

“I can’t. Sorry, I have a date.” Nathan stands and places his glass on the coffee table.

“With who?” I press, intrigued.

“No one you’d know.” He smirks.

“Try me. I know a lot of women.”

“No, you know a lot of hoebags. This is a nice girl, so you don’t know her. Catch you two on Monday.”

“See ya.” I shake my head at him as he leaves, and Alistair mimics the gesture.

“He’s going to hate his date with the nice girl.” Alistair laughs.

“Yep,” I agree. Nathan is in search of the future Mrs Miller and seems to think he’s going to find her in one of the polite, boring girls he’s been going on endless dates with.

The thing is… he always ends up at the club afterwards. Because, again, men like us need a woman who’s going to pique our interests. And that’s definitely not going to happen with a “nice” girl.

I can’t believe I let these assholes talk me into coming here on a Sunday night. Friday night? Saturday night? No worries. But Sunday? Fuck, I have to be in the office at six in the morning—which is exactly five hours from now.

“One more,” Alistair yells, holding up his empty glass.

“One more,” Nathan agrees.

It’s one a.m. We’re all on our… I don’t actually know the count. We’ve all had a lot of drinks. Usually I’d be up for another, but not tonight. “I’m out. I got things to do before I have to be at the office,” I tell them.

I’ve had my eye on a particular redheaded siren for the past thirty minutes. Walking to the edge of the dance floor, I wait for her eyes to connect with mine. It doesn’t take long. Crooking my finger in her direction, I call her over to me. It’s always better when they come to me.

“You summoned.” She laughs into my ear.

I get a whiff of her over-the-top Chanell No 5 perfume. It’s the one scent I fucking hate. Fuck, maybe I could make her shower before I fuck her? Shaking my head, I put that thought away.

“I did, but I just realised I have somewhere to be,” I lie. Turning around, I hightail it out of the club before drawing my phone from my pocket. I call David, my driver. “Hey, man, can you swing by and pick me up?”

“I’m just down the road. Look left,” he says.

I crane my neck and sigh in relief. I don’t have to wait. David holds open the door to my Mercedes and I climb into the back seat. “Thanks, Davo, ‘ppreciate you, man,” I slur.

“Anytime, sir,” he replies before closing me inside.

---