Page 33 of His Temptation
“Where are we going?” I ask as we move through the crowd of people, his hand still on my back.
“Just going to get some fresh air. Also, I thought you might like to see the view,” he whispers in my ear, leaning down, his lips brushing against my skin.
Before I get completely lost in his touch, he opens the doors to the balcony, where the lights of the city take my breath away. If I thought LA from the rooftop this afternoon was a sight, this is something else.
It’s the palm trees that get me. It’s such a foreign concept to me to have them surrounding city buildings. It’s like a glittering tapestry, stretching all the way back to the horizon.
“Wow,” I whisper as we both lean our forearms against the marble railing. “It’s incredible.”
I smile as I look out at the view, not quite able to believe this is my life right now.
I steal a glance at Lincoln, who is watching me intently. “What?”
“The view has nothing on you,” he says as his finger comes up and brushes my cheek.
My breath catches. “Do you tell all your assistants that?”
I thought reminding him of who I was would pull him out of his trance, but he steps toward me, closing the distance between us—not that there was much distance.
“I don’t remember a single thing about any of my other assistants.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. “But you would remember me?”
Before he can answer, the doors open.
“Mr. Monroe. Fifteen minutes until your speech,” a man with a headset says, sounding slightly panicked.
I wonder if he’s been looking for Lincoln. I shouldn’t be out here with him, getting swept away, when we’re here for business purposes.
Instead of sticking around to hear his speech, I race to my room as a wave of panic sets in. This isn’t good. I need to remember this man is not a good man. He has literally treated me like shit since the day I stepped foot in his office.
Now, just because I’m dressed up in some expensive clothing, he thinks he can make me give in to this … desire. Never.
14
LINCOLN
Islam my suitcase shut as I remember the events of last night. How I let myself get carried away with the evening and my body’s reaction to Kylie. I can’t believe I almost kissed her. If I hadn’t been interrupted, there was a chance I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.
The moment I saw her in front of me, looking like the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on, I knew I was screwed. What I didn’t expect was for her to run away from me and leave me stranded for the rest of the evening.
Now we are about to get on a five-hour plane ride with just the two of us and nothing to break the tension.
Why did she leave last night? Does she hate me that much that the mere idea of someone like me kissing her is revolting?
There’s a lot she doesn’t know about me. I’m not the monster she makes me out to be.
Any other assistant who would ditch their duties and leave me at an event without so much as a text would be fired.
I should fire her. There have been many reasons for me to fire her. But, dammit, I know I’m not going to. Apparently, I’d rather torture myself with these insane feelings of equal parts desire and frustration.
The only communication I’ve had from Kylie since last night was a morning text, letting me know she’d have a car ready to take us to the airport at eight in the morning.
When I get downstairs, she’s already packed up and in the back seat of the car. I toss my luggage in the trunk and take a seat next to her. She keeps her head facing the window, like greeting me is too much of an effort.
I scoff. “Good morning, Kylie.”
“Morning, Mr. Monroe,” she says sternly.
