Page 7 of Reputation (Tempt)

And while, yes, Emerson was my employee and a reflection of me and my values, she should be free to post what she wanted. Her social media was as much a part of her brand as mine. Even if I hated the thought of so many eyes on her gorgeous, scantily clad body.

“I already emailed her,” I said, and I hadn’t given it much thought since. Though, come to think of it, I hadn’t seen a reply from her.

“Good.” There was a muffled sound in the background. Then he added, “Recently?”

“A few days ago. Why?”

“Because her latest posts aren’t going to help your image. Especially since we need to lean into the family man narrative and away from the billionaire bad boy one. At least until this tell-all thing blows over.”

I nodded, wondering what the hell Emerson had posted that had riled up Pierce. I typically avoided her socials, but only because I already found it difficult enough to hide my attraction to her when she was in my home. I didn’t need to add more fuel to the fire.

“How long do you thinkthatwill take?” I asked.

“Not a fucking clue. Rumor has it Annalise plans to release it before the holidays.”

I nodded. That didn’t give us much time. “Is that why you’re pushing me so hard to take the Brock Ransom role?”

“It could help refocus attention, especially if we aren’t successful in stopping publication.”

I nodded, considering. “I’ll give you an answer tomorrow.”

After we ended the call, I navigated to Emerson’s social media feed despite my better sense. She’d posted several new images—a video of her doing a hurdle challenge, an image of her stretching. No big deal.

That last one, though—it almost felt as if she was sending me a big fuck-you instead of replying to my email. The post featured Emerson in a red bikini, kicking up her heels by the pool. Notmypool. I frowned at the screen and zoomed in, recognizing some of the tile—Knox’s.

She’d probably been hanging out with Kendall. Hell, when she wasn’t at my house, she was often at Knox’s, especially now that Knox and Kendall were no longer hiding their relationship.

I still couldn’t believe it—my older brother was in love. With his son’s ex.

I couldn’t judge him, though. Not when I’d been lusting after my daughter’s nanny for months.

Emerson was hot. I mean, fuck. She was all lean muscles and long legs. Wavy blond hair and full lips that curled into the most beautiful smile. Though, more often than not, a scowl was directed at me.

But even that was sexy. Honestly, I almost liked it more when she was fired up and fighting with me. She wasn’t just another simpering Hollywood hanger-on. I scrolled through some of her other recent posts, my cock hardening.

Jesus. Fuck. How were these photos legal?

And why was I even torturing myself by staring at pictures of my twenty-eight-year-old nanny?

This was exactly why I shouldn’t have come on here.

I was forty-three.Forty-three.I should know better.Dobetter, especially since my daughter loved Emerson. And the feeling was clearly mutual.

I couldn’t imagine a better fit for Brooklyn. And that was quite the feat, considering the fact that our previous nanny, Amalia, had been with us since Brooklyn’s birth. When Amalia had retired, it had been a struggle to find a suitable replacement.

And so, knowing how much Brooklyn liked Emerson and how difficult it would be to replace her, I refused to do anything to jeopardize Emerson’s position. I’d had a somewhat tumultuous childhood myself, and I craved stability for my daughter. Even if it came in the form of a fiery blonde bombshell who was a pain in my ass.

I exited the app, hating my body’s reaction to her. Willing my dick to calm down. That was one of the biggest reasons why I’d been opposed to her from the start. I needed calm and order in my home. And being around Emerson made me feel neither of those things.

Still, I knew better than to sleep with the nanny. I’d seen that story in the tabloids one too many times. It was such a cliché, it was laughable. Not to mention foolish. The past few months—and now Annalise’s stunt—had me rattled. NDAs or not, people just didn’t seem to care when money or fame was involved.

I closed my eyes and tried to recenter myself. But as I listened to the hum of the jet engine, my mind drifted to Trinity, Brooklyn’s mother, if you could even call her that.

My ex was a piece of work. I’d been foolish to marry her, but I’d been young and in love. It was only later that I realized I’d been using her to try to fill the hole that my parents’ death had created. That I’d been desperate for family and security and ignored all the red flags.

Marrying Trinity had been a mistake. And even now, years after the divorce, I was still pissed about what she’d done. How she’d tried to use Brooklyn…Fuck.I clenched my fists.

You trusted someone. Loved someone. And to have them treat you like she had Brooklyn and me… I let out a heavy sigh. Never again.

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