Page 1 of Savage Temptation
1
EMILIA
Ishiver as the icy chills of regret engulf me. My pulse quickens as the curtain falls and I leave the stage. Glitter clings to everything. My hair, skin, and I think I have some on the back of my throat. I can’t seem to shake it off any better than the remorse filling my heart.
I grab a water bottle and down it in a few gulps. It helps.
That was our last show for the evening. Echoes of cheers and whistles reverberate off the theater’s walls. Calls for an encore would normally call me back on stage, but I’m done. I can’t take another minute in these shoes or feathers, much less ten.
I dodge around stagehands all aiming to pull me back on stage for a crowd calling for an encore, but I keep my head down. If I’m quick, I can shed the feathers before Oliver bursts in to berate me for not milking the crowd.
I can already hear his snarky and snide tone calling me ungrateful for all he’s done for me the second he barges into my dressing room. By my count, I have about three minutes until that happens.
I spot the yellow door with my name stenciled across the center. I slip inside, finally alone. Cool air washes over my heated, balmy skin and I sigh with relief.
The scent of roses and the muted glow of the flatscreen on the wall greet me. There’s some kind of music video playing with soothing tones that Oliver swears helps “his girls” relax after a show.
Ugh. My stomach gurgles at being part of that man’s “girls”.
I used to be someone’s girl. Until I told Oliver no. Then he did every underhanded thing in the book to own me. I either agreed, or my younger sister would pay. I couldn’t let that happen.
But before that, Jagger Malone owned my heart and soul. The scent of his cologne and the feel of his thick black hair through my fingers is a memory I will carry with me forever. Jagger is every bit the ruthless biker badass you see in all the T.V. shows, but that man treated me like his queen. And then my dreams shattered.
Wanna know a shameful secret? Of course you do. We love to know the misery of others. It makes us feel better about our own lives. No judgment from me. We are all the same. We all do it.
I lower myself in the chair in front of the dressing mirror, my gaze coming up to meet my own. Water swims along the rims of my eyes and I blink quickly, forcing the tears back.
I should be fat and happy with our third or fourth kid by now.
But another person’s greed ruined that.
How is that, you wonder?
Well, I fell in love as about every fucking story in the universe starts out. Wait, I know. That’s not the shameful part. What breaks my heart to even say out loud is this… I found a man who loved me from the tips of my hair to the very ends of my toes and then I walked out on our wedding day.
I had my reasons, but yeah. After falling for him and him for me, I walked away before he could slip his ring on my finger and put a baby inside me. Something we both professed to want with all our souls. He was the one. I didn’t care that he was fifteen years older, or that I was barely drinking age. We loved each other.
Walking away broke both our hearts, but I never gave him my reason. I couldn’t.
What kind of monster does that make me?
A cruel one.
But it was that or a swampy grave for him.
I couldn’t have another person die for me. Not that I was given a lot of choice in the matter.
My lip quivers despite me wrangling my emotions back into their tight box in the back of my mind. Exhaustion makes it hard to keep my regrets from festering into a crying fest, but deep down I know it’s more than just shoulda-couldas coming back to haunt me.
I want out so bad I can taste the sweetness of freedom. I unfasten the large feather headdress and toss it on the nearby couch.
I grab a brush and run it through my hair.
Jagger and I ended five years ago, and I swore I would never come back to this city, as if I ever had any control over my life.
Not a chance. Oliver calls the shots. Still, I never wanted to set foot in the place that brought Jagger and me together, or feel the magic that pulses through the darker undercurrents of the Big Easy. I always knew this city could break me, and right now, I’m balanced right on the edge.
So, guess where fate has me. Yep. New Orleans. Home sweet home, I guess.
