Page 8 of Reputation (Tempt)

It was a big reason why I rarely dated. And when I did, I didn’t let myself get attached.

I clenched my fists at the thought of Annalise fucking Windsor. A supermodel, a one-time relationship, and the current bane of my existence. I’d once thought that title would only ever belong to Trinity, but apparently I’d been wrong.

My divorce had been nasty, public, and expensive, despite the prenup. And my breakup with Annalise—long ago though it was—was turning out to be a big headache of its own.

CHAPTERTHREE

The security alarm chimed twice, indicating that the front gate had opened, and I braced myself. After I’d picked Brooklyn up from school, I’d taken her to a therapy appointment, and then we’d come home and finished her homework. Eaten a snack. She’d been distracted and fidgety, eager for her dad to return. Hell, I was eager for his return myself, albeit for different reasons. We had some important things to discuss.

The house alarm chimed once, alerting us that a door had been opened. The front door, judging from the direction of Brooklyn’s gaze and the huge smile on her face.

“Daddy!” she yelled, popping up from her seat and running toward Nate.

His megawatt smile was blinding, and for a second, I forgot my anger over his email and saw a father who absolutely adored his daughter and was happy to be home. The way he looked at her…it always made my ovaries quiver.

He’s your boss, I repeated in my head. He’s just a dad boss. Definitely not a dad bod, though.

Great. This wassonot the time for my brain to short-circuit and focus on the fact that Nate had been my celebrity crush for a decade, while ignoring the way he’d treated me the past few months.

Even so, I couldn’t help but appreciate his physique. I mean,damnhe looked good. I’d always been a sucker for a man in a suit. And this one was no exception, despite my personal feelings toward him.

The subtle pattern of his gray suit drew the eye from his broad shoulders to his tapered waist and down to his designer loafers. The top few buttons of his white shirt were undone, revealing skin that was even darker after a summer by the pool with Brooklyn. Scruff lined his jaw, the rich brown color slightly darker than his wavy hair that looked as if it had been highlighted by the gods themselves.

“Dad!” Brooklyn yelled, launching herself into his arms and breaking me out of whatever trance I’d been in. “I missed you so much.”

He buried his face in her neck, and I hung back, giving them a minute. The way he doted on her was…gah. Sometimes, it made it easy to forget how infuriating he could be.

Fortunately, between Nate’s busy work schedule and my training, we were rarely ever home alone together.

“I missed you too, Queen B.” He lifted his chin in greeting. “Thorne.”

He always addressed me as if I were a thorn in his side. And with that one word, all my anger came rushing back. But the second Nate walked in the door was not the time to ambush him about his email, even if the idea was tempting.

I forced his name past my lips. “Nate.”

Brooklyn chattered nonstop about school and her guitar lessons, and I quickly excused myself. I had plans—a workout and hanging out with Kendall—and if I stayed, I was likely to blow up on my boss. I’d had a few days to calm down, but I wasn’t willing to let this go.

So, for the moment, I made myself scarce.Rule number three.

I didn’t return to the house until after dinner. And then I waited until long after Brooklyn had gone to bed to approach Nate. I padded down the hall to his office.

I was sick of the men in my life telling me what to do. Thinking they knew what was best for me. First, my dad and his insistence that I wasn’t ready to retire. And Nate and…everything.

I rapped my knuckles on the door, and he barked, “What?”

I stepped inside, barely passing over the threshold. A stack of books was piled on the desk. If I wasn’t mistaken, they all looked like romance novels.Huh.

“Is Brooklyn okay?” he asked, immediately glancing toward the door, his brow etched in concern.

“Brooklyn’s fine,” I said, and his shoulders relaxed. “But we need to talk.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him so distressed. He was usually unflappable. “Unless it’s an emergency, please email me. And while you’re at it, you can provide an explanation for why you never responded to my last email or complied with my request.”

Oh. Was it a request? Because it had sounded more like a demand.

I could feel a headache building.

I’d come here, prepared to be reasonable. And then he had theaudacityto demand this? To treat me like this?

---