Page 1 of Tempt Me

CHAPTER ONE

CADEN

I crack the window of the town car and allow wisps of humid summer air into the sleek interior.

That smell—sun-soaked grass and the tang of the ocean—brings a wave of memories. It’s been five years since I left Magnolia Bay, the small Long Island town my family calls home.

Let’s be honest, my family basically rules the town. Everton Estate is the most successful winery on the North Fork, a billion-dollar company that my father runs with an iron fist. A company I was meant to inherit.

I swore when I left that it was the right thing to do. I couldn’t let my father control my life anymore. Even if it meant leaving my home—and the woman I loved.

My stomach clenches, thinking about that day when everything changed. The day I lost it all. The dreams I had. The future I was so sure of.

That was the day my mother died.

And it had started so well. Perfectly in fact. That morning, I woke up with Isla in my arms.

Five years ago, there was a grand gala to celebrate Everton Estate’s seventy-fifth anniversary. Mom invited the whole town to mingle alongside the influencers, politicians, and businessmen my dad always surrounded himself with. Mom never cared about the glitz and the glamour of being an Everton—she loved Magnolia Bay and the people who gave the town its charm. The party was meant to be the highlight of the summer. But for me, it was so much more. It was the night I confessed my feelings to Isla. The night I spent making love to her in her small, cozy apartment. It was the start of something new and hopeful.

The next morning, I returned home to discover my mother had been murdered.

Right there, on our property. At ourhome. Someone had shot her.

The sheriff believed it was a robbery gone wrong. My father was certain it had something to do with the estate, some business enemy out for revenge.

But whatever the motivation, the result was the same. My mother was dead.

My stomach turns at the memories—a body bag on a stretcher, the sound of my sister Von screaming. My dad in his robe and slippers, looking deranged. Broken. These are thoughts I’ve tried to keep locked away along with Isla. The scent of her. The warm softness of her skin. I gave all that up. I abandoned her.

I didn’t even give her an explanation. But I couldn’t play Dad’s games anymore. And he would never let me see Isla again.

So I left.

Then, two days ago, I got a text from my best friend, Noah. He’s a deputy in the Magnolia Bay sheriff’s department now.

Your mom’s case is officially cold,he’d written.The files are going to be moved down to the basement next week. There just aren’t any new leads. There’s nothing to investigate. I’m so sorry, Caden. I thought you should hear it from me.

It felt like losing her all over again. The thought of everyone just…giving up.

So I said fuck that and bought a plane ticket.

If the police won’t do their jobs, I will. I’m not letting my mother’s killer escape justice. I’ll find out who did this myself.

“It is good to have you back,” Alex says from the driver’s seat, in his thick Ukrainian accent. Dad’s chauffeur has a few more lines around his mouth and eyes since last I saw him.

“I’m not back,” I say tersely. Once I get Mom’s case restarted, I’m on the next flight to Buenos Aires, back to Catarina Azul, the vineyard I’ve been working at for the past four years. Where life is simple, and I don’t have to think about everything I’ve lost. Where I’m not an Everton. Just another pair of hands.

We roll down Magnolia Way—or just the Way, as it’s called in town—the street where the wealthy residents of Magnolia Bay live. Our town has always been split in two. I was on one side and Isla on the other. I wonder if she’s still baking for her family’s bed and breakfast. If she still has that faintly sugary scent. If her eyes are as green as I remember. I stare at the mansions we pass, stone behemoths set back from the road with perfectly manicured lawns. Everything looks remarkably the same.

Our house is the last one on the Way. We turn down the drive, passing the lodge where our winery holds tastings and events. Rows of vines, a showcase of our estate, sit between the lodge and the house. My family home is enormous, a mix of stone and wood, with a long farmer’s porch and big front windows.

Someone has planted rosebushes along the front of the porch. I feel a jerk in my chest.

Mom would have liked that.

I wonder if her garden is still the same—if they’ve kept it up or let it grow wild and unkempt. As I get out of the car, I see two girls in running gear jogging down the road. They slow as they catch sight of me, then pick up their pace.

Great. My presence has been noticed.

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