Page 65 of My Sweetest Temptation

Now, back to the task at hand.

WINTER

“Stop fussing,” Holly, one of the contractor servers, whispered at me while I tugged onto my collar, trying to loosen it to find some relief. The white blouse was buttoned all the way up to my chin, and the tie felt like a noose. I could barely breathe, and I let out a frustrated groan. And these damn black slacks clung to my legs like paste.

My ballet flats pinched my feet with every step. I shifted my weight, trying to find some comfort, but it was hopeless.

“Come on,” Holly said. “We have to walk around with the hors d’oeuvres.”

I followed her into the kitchen and saw several trays laid out on the quartz countertops, with several different appetizers on each tray.

Holly grabbed the tray with some fancy bread. “You take this one.” She gestured at another tray.

Of course, I got slimy food—fish. Or whatever it was. It glistened with a sheen that looked like a snail’s wet dream. I grimaced; the sight alone was enough to send my stomach into a mini revolt.

“What is this?” I crinkled my nose when I got a whiff of...something.

“That’s octopus.”

I gaped at her. “Are you serious?”

Oh, my God, I was going to vomit. I just wanted to know why I couldn’t serve something normal, like a meatball.

“Let’s go,” she said, ignoring my reaction.

I hoisted the tray with my slimy friends squirming away on it onto my shoulder, and it teetered dangerously as I struggled to keep it steady. A slight tremor ran through me, sending a few pieces of octopus wiggling across the tray.

“What are you doing?” Holly hissed, her eyes narrowing like she was trying to shoot lasers at me. “Don’t spill it!”

“I’m trying not to,” I retorted, sarcasm dripping from my words. “But I’m also not a giraffe, Holly. Ever heard of a little thing called height?”

Holly rolled her eyes. “Just follow my lead. You’ve got the left side of the room. And remember to come back every so often before you start running low.”

“Got it.” I took a deep breath, adjusting the tray as I shuffled away. A couple of the octopus pieces decided it was their moment, sliding around like they were auditioning for So You Think You Can Dance.

Gripping the tray tightly for dear life, I focused on keeping the food steady to avoid spilling it on someone’s expensive dress or suit, which would likely be worth more than my rent.

Without saying a word, I held out the tray with the dead fish, and to my surprise, several people reached out to take one.

“Gross,” I muttered under my breath, scrunching my nose.

“Not a fan?” I heard a familiar voice behind me say. I turned around to find Preston standing there, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

The mayor’s son.

“No, I’m not,” I replied, forcing a smile. This guy gave me the creeps with the way he stared at me like he was undressing me with his eyes.

Preston leaned in slightly, his eyes sparkling. “Well, speaking of brave, did you know octopuses are predators? They stalk and ambush their favorite foods.” He looked me up and down and circled around me like I was his prey.

“Would you like one?” I asked, trying to end this uncomfortable conversation.

His grin widened. “I prefer my food a bit more... alive.”

Our eyes locked for a moment, and I felt the kind of tension that made the air feel thicker—in a bad way. A very bad way.

He licked his lips, and I took a step back, crashing into a chest that was hard like concrete. The impact jolted me, and I held onto the tray to prevent it from falling. I turned, and there he was—Nico, his glare sharp enough to cut through steel.

Preston’s lips curled into a fake grin. “Nico.”

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