GWEN

Let me make it clear, I've never been what anyone would call a 'bad girl'.

Gen had all the rebel genes, while I covered her ass from trouble every day since primary school.

Until now.

My armpits feel damp, and my entire body shivers. Oh, dear God, I hope it's the nanny who's secretly robbing Tom.

Someone clears their throat in a deep guttural way.

It's Tom.

That's much worse.

I hear him hum a hip-hop song, and grit my teeth as he settles into his chair, leaning back into the hardwood side of the desk while staring at his long legs. I wipe the sweat off my forehead and suppress the urge to exhale with frustration.

It's impossible to imagine how the movies make spying so easy. I could already imagine the worst-case scenarios, like Tom finding a legit reason to get me out of the picture.

"Hello?" Tom says. "No, this is your boss, Emily. Did you organize my meeting notes already? I don't want to miss any details for the upcoming one."

Silence.

I shut my eyes as I realize he wasn't talking to me.

"No, I'm not going to apologize to the Tanaka Group. What's wrong with saying I did jiu-jitsu as a kid? It was a fucking icebreaker. Everyone laughed. You need to learn to read a room."

A snort escapes from my lips before I can stop it. My hand covers my mouth too late.

Maybe he's too distracted to have heard that.

Tom's foot brushes against my thighs and ducks his head under the desk, with a phone pressed to his ear.

Our eyes meet.

I think about fainting, just dropping to the floor like last time, but Tom and I end up doing the worst staring contest in history.

"See you at work, Emily," he says and raises his head. "Are you going to keep sitting there all night, Mrs. Ciccotelli?"

My shoulders slump, but I crawl out, bumping my head on the table top.

"Ow," I murmur.

I push myself past his legs, grabbing his thigh for support.

This humiliation is worse than the time I covered for Gen and had to spend the day writing 'I must not call my teacher a shithead' in my notebook.

"Could you at least move?" I groan and let out a small breath as I come face-to-face with Tom.

He gives me a straight look. "Well, I'm not planning to make this comfortable for you, Mrs. Ciccotelli."

My belly twists into knots. "Please don't call me that. We're not in the fifties."

Sometimes the best way to avoid conflict is to run.

I start to jog for the door, only for Tom to grab my hand and drag me back. I collided with his broad chest. His gaze is hard and furious.

Anger bites into my chest.

"Use your words not your paws, you absolute jerk" I hiss.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" He asks. "Don't come in here unless I tell you to. Did you take anything?"

I pull myself free and grip my fists. How can he be so infuriating?

Something catches my eye, and I sweep past him to grab my phone off his desk. Tom's eyes flicker with confusion.

"I left this behind," I raise the smartphone. "I wanted to text my best friend in London. You should at least check for evidence before accusing me of stealing!"

Tom hesitates from speaking, and I nearly wheeze with relief.

Good, get him distracted.

"Why were you hiding?" He asks.

Damn it.

"Who's Emily?" I toss back.

Tom closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. "Hey, don't get jealous, and Emily's my executive assistant-"

I let out a sharp gasp. "I am not. Why would I be?"

"Because I saw the way your eyes flared up when you asked that question. Your voice is a dead giveaway." He answers. "You're jealous. "

My mouth hangs open, not because Tom is dead wrong, but because he could read my body language.

Tom's lips crook up and his eyes light up with humor that sends a warm ripple through my stomach.

Danger fills the air, along with desire.

He steps closer to me. Tall. Mediterranean. Our eyes lock.

"But you don't have to worry a damn thing, Red." He reaches for my hair and neatly tucks it behind my ear, goosebumps swell on my skin.

I don't like this at all. How he makes me feel as if I were a secondary school girl again.

"Till death do us part," he whispers.

I shake my head. "You are so-"

His mouth lowers over mine. Just a breath away. Mine parts open.

My heart vibrates in a hard rhythm.

Okay.

Just this once.

It feels like fire surging through my body; his tongue clashes with mine, seizing control. My arms wrap around his shoulders, and my fingers curiously grab his thick hair.

His hands glide down my back smoothly and guide me into his firm body.

Resisting this man is futile. Every inch of my mind begs to stop this madness, but my body wants more. Through the fabric of his pyjama bottoms, his rigid arousal grinds against my stomach.

"Tom." I pull away, my chest heaving up and down. I bite down on my lower lip. His eyes flutter, and I see desire through them.

"You're very good at this." He releases his hold on me, and somehow I feel the pull of a magnet wanting to reach again.

I raise a brow. "At what?"

"Kissing," he replies. "At the wedding. I swore it was formal, but you wanted more. Didn't you?"

I swallow deeply. "Oh, come on."

While turning around to get away from him, Tom moves faster, and circles me.

"Aren't you a bit curious?" Tom asks.

"That smooth talking isn't going to work on me," I reply.

But he is right. I pull my hand away and frantically hit the edge of the desk.

I can't believe how clumsy I am at this moment.

"Then let your body do the work, Gwen," he says.

He lunges forward and grabs my waist. I hold my breath as he pushes his mouth to my neck, and I let out a small moan.

Tom's fingers slip under my night shirt. My breath slows down as he draws lazy fingers up until they find my breast.

Then the world went crazy.

GWEN

"Let's get you comfortable," Tom swoops me up, and I clutch at his shirt.

I have to be dreaming. He lays me on the black leather couch and removes his shirt. My eyes take in his torso, tan and smooth, and I'm surprised how flat his belly is.

"Do you exercise?" I ask foolishly.

Ugh, what is wrong with me? It's like I can't even process my thoughts anymore.

Tom draws a thumb over my cheek. "Uh-huh."

Instinctively, my fingers reach up to graze his skin, he catches them, planting warm kisses that send heat rises beneath my flesh. One of the perks of being red-haired is that I can't hide it: I flush like a traffic light.

Tom straddles me carefully and kisses me, and the sound of his groan of excitement fuels my urge.

My breath hitches as he drags a callused palm between my legs.

"Oh," I whisper.

His chestnut eyes turn to mine, heavy with seriousness. "Red, I want you to be sure. Say the word, and this is done. But God, I hope you don't."

"I'm not...complaining." I croak. "I'm just out of breath."

A flash of teeth, his arrogance melts through. "Good, because I want to see all of you."

I grab the hem of my shirt and start to lift it over my head, unashamed. I lick my lips, watching him keep a stern look at me.

How is he doing this?

Thirteen months ago, I wanted to find him and rip out his throat; now I'm under him, fighting for my sanity.

My breasts feel small under his large hands, and he begins to knead them. I chew on my lower lip and moan with ecstasy.

"Your skin feels like silk," He mutters. "How does mine feel? Tell me, Red."

Reluctantly, I trail my hands down his back and grab his ass. "Firm like leather."

The chuckle he makes is low and just right. "Hell, I'm going to take that as a compliment."

His fingers part the curls covering my heat and running up and down in deliberate movements.

"Oh yes." I sigh from the pleasure bubbling in my stomach.

"You like that?" He asks.

I nod through a small whimper, shaking as he continues plucking. I part my legs wide and raise my hips higher.

"I'm going to make you come so hard you won't feel a thing in the morning." He growls. "Is that what you want, Gwen?"

I wound my hands around his neck, twisting from the sweet sensation shattering my nerves. "Ah, that feels so good...Tom."

In the end, I come apart in his fingers, dropping my hands over my head.

Shame keeps me from opening my eyes as I pant heavily, but his mouth brushes my cheek, followed by an arm draped over my belly and his heartbeat throbbing against my shoulder.

Sleep comes easily.

* * * * * * * *

I woke up with a strange certainty that someone was in the office with me.

I managed to pry one eye open, and a terrified yelp broke out at the sight of Diana, all dressed in a navy pantsuit and pearls, giving me a dry look.

"Eek!" I exclaim, dragging the blue blanket over my chest.

Outside the office windows, sun rays splashed against the glass, but my mind struggled to get past the strain in my muscles. "Bloody hell. How long have you been standing there?"

"Enough to know you sleep like a horse," Diana replies. "What are you doing in my son's office? Don't you English girls know how a bedroom works?"

I groan and squeeze the back of my neck, watching Diana turn around to gaze at the office.

"We know a thing about manners," I mumble to myself.

Diana turns her head to me. "What was that?"

Rolling my eyes, I reach for my nightshirt on the floor and tug it over my head. God, take me back in time, I'll do anything.

"I asked you a question, Gina." Diana's voice breaks through my thoughts.

I let out a breath of discomfort. "It's Gwen, and I'm sorry, but it's really hard to concentrate while I'm still naked."

Diana's face crumples into pure horror. "You and Tom...Holy Virgin!"

My fingers reach for my lips.

"Are you on the pill?" Diana demands angrily. "At least let me know you're a little intelligent. Ugh, how could you be so stupid? This is a sin!"

My eyes brighten with surprise. "A what?"

Diana looks as if she's going to vomit. "Your sister... and Thomas...but my grandson-"

I yell at her. "Oh, come off it. This isn't incest!"

Diana shouts again. "It doesn't make any of it right. Show some respect; this is a business venture, not a college party. Did you even read the contract, or was the glitter of the jewelry store too distracting for you?"

This time, I jolt to my feet, my entire arms shake with fury. "I won't have you speak to me like this. I'm not a property!"

"Yes, you absolutely are. You are just the face of that thief, and like the contract states, you'll perform every social bidding we ask."

"Like a mindless performing monkey? I don't think so!"

Diana is a foot shorter than me but her presence is a little intimidating. I don't move an inch anyway.

"Honestly, I know my boy is better than this. He wouldn't read that contract and violate the terms. So I'm guessing it was you who took the first step." Diana says coldly, enough for me to recall last night.

I blink with terror. This is worse than the morning-after regret. Diana's condescending stare makes it seem as if I'm a conquest.

"Yes, the women always come to him." Diana nods gravely. "That damn wedding ring separates you from every cheap model Tom has been with."

My eyes burn with tears, and my teeth chatter with hurt.

Diana continues. "Know your place. Now, I want you to do an emergency pregnancy test. I'll order the kit. We don't want to risk another baby. Give me the results when you're done."

She inhales deeply and turns on her heels straight for the door. Once she's in the hallway, she yells. "Esme, come clean up the office!"

As the door shuts hard, I flinch absentmindedly and grip my arms. All the gossip articles about Tom's flings, the pictures of the girls flood my mind.

Me, his latest victim.

I've risked my dignity, my sister's baby, for one flimsy night of pleasure.

What have I done?

GWEN

Hot water streams down my skin as I scrub off the memory of last night in my bathroom.

I blow a hard grunt of humiliation. Tom used me like I meant nothing to him.

Well, it won't ever happen again.

After walking out of the shower cubicle, I throw a large white towel around my body and step into my bedroom.

The first thing I see is a pregnancy test kit lying on my bed.

"Alright," I hiss. "This is just too ridiculous!"

Ten minutes later, I barge into the terrace lounge where Diana is currently having coffee and reading from her tablet with round glasses crooked over her nose.

Diana barely glances in my direction as I stomp over to her.

Finally, the elderly matriarch lifts her eyes to me, unbothered by my temper.

"Let me have it."

I tighten my lips and hold the sealed box to her. "If you must know, it was only foreplay and nothing more."

Diana blinks with relief and leans back into her chair. "I need to call Tom to confirm this."

I throw my hands up as my entire face flushes. "Did you not hear what I just said? And besides, I don't plan to bring another poor child into this...family!"

Diana scoffs, her mouth tugs into a smirk. "Is yours any better? Tell me."

My body becomes still. "You would know if you'd actually care to meet any of them."

She returns her gaze to the tablet. "I don't care about your immediate family. I've learned all I need to know from your criminal sister. Now, don't you have a store to run?" she replies softly.

A short huff comes out of the back of my throat. She really is impossible to reason with. I want to grab her tablet and send it over the edge, but instead, I straighten my blazer and head straight for the door.

Mikey is fully awake in the nursery. The nanny, Carly, shakes a small blue stuffed bear over his cradle, then she turns to me with a smile.

"Good morning, Mrs. Ciccotelli." Carly sings.

I can feel my left eye twitching. "Ugh, please call me Gwen." I correct, to which Carly just looks confused.

"How's the little one?" I reach for Mikey and lift him. He makes a soft, excited babble.

"He's got a lot of energy," Carly replies meekly. "I was thinking of taking him out for a stroll."

I nod while covering the back of Mikey's head. "That's fine, I suppose some sunshine in the park will do him good."

Carly squints at me. "Actually, I meant at the grounds here at home. Signora Ciccotelli wouldn't allow me to go that far."

"Are you serious?"

She was.

Well, I guess the world revolves around my eloquent mother-in-law.

After kissing Mikey goodbye, I head straight for work.

It's unbelievable how I can have my very own silent driver that doesn't go on about how the New York tourists are always ruining everything.

"Thank you, Leo," I wave at the car window before strolling into my store.

Inside, I'm greeted by the new staff, about five of them watch me nervously. I know the feeling of pleasing the man in charge.

There's also someone unfamiliar: an average man with brown hair and white at the temples, scanning a set of ruby earrings.

My old manager was completely dreadful. Always thinking I was out calling my boyfriend, when it was the daycare center. He even said something about me being 'over-protective.'

"Good morning, everyone," I say sweetly. "Please step into the boardroom for a quick meeting."

They head for the room while I move to the customer's side.

"Sir, I'm completely sorry," I begin. "Can you check back in later? I promise to offer you a complimentary discount."

He shrugs and speaks in a rich Brooklyn accent. "I don't mind. In fact, I was just about to join the meeting."

My mouth folds back, and I stare at him, dumbfounded. My legs tremble.

He can't be thick-headed, right?

I absolutely cannot handle any more surprises this morning.

"I love meetings." He smiles in a charming way that doesn't calm the panic growing in my chest.

"Who are you?" I ask.

He throws the heel of his palm to his forehead. "Sorry, I haven't introduced myself." He brings his hand to me. "Matthew Bertinelli, your assistant manager. You can call me Matt."

My mouth hangs open.

My what?

Matt stretches his hand behind me, but it doesn't connect to my back. I'm compelled to walk with him towards the room.

Then I pause to a stop and swing my head to him angrily. "If this is some kind of a joke, I'm not in the mood. I want you to-"

"I was hired by the management last week." Matt interrupts. "I got the training and everything."

"I think you have the wrong store."

"Gemini Jewelers is kinda hard to miss on the map-Hey!"

He stumbles behind me as I grab a handful of his shirt for the exit. The security guard approaches us with a firm stare.

I point a finger at Matt. "Please, escort this strange man out of the premises."

"Whoa." Matt's eyes pop wide. "Look, they said it was okay to resume as soon as possible. Can you at least make a phone call?"

I place my hands on my hips. "And who might 'they' be?"

Matt grins. "Your mother-in-law and uh, your husband approved my employment."

Instantly, I groan in surprise, half-baked with anger.

The meeting didn't go as well as expected. Matt quickly marks his territory by casually interrupting every word I say. It's a miracle I didn't pull my hair out.

Afterwards, I rush into my office and ring Tom's.

A feminine voice answers smoothly. "Ciccotelli Enterprises. Who am I speaking with?"

"Gwen O'Brien. Could you please put me through to him? His cell phone seems to be switched off."

There was a long pause.

"Hello?"

A small chuckle comes through, almost derisive. "Oh my God, Mrs. Ciccotelli? I thought I was being pranked by the last British girl he-"

That comment almost sends my head spinning like a Frisbee. I'm about to ask for more information, but she coughs, rather conveniently.

"Actually, Mr. Ciccotelli is currently unavailable."

"Doing what? He can spare a few minutes for me. It's important."

"But-"

"Listen, I am very cross right now and I need to speak with my husband immediately."

She puts me on hold for a few seconds until I hear a click.

A familiar voice comes through. "Hi, Red."

I have so many bitter words to say to Tom, but the warmth from the sound of his voice reduces the anger in me. It forces something I've never dreamed of telling a man.

"So darling, am I British girl number three or seven?"