Forbidden Pleasure

by Taryn Leigh Taylor

  She didn’t wait for a response before disappearing down the hall. Not that it mattered to Max. He turned and headed straight for his father’s ornate mahogany office in the back of the house.

  “You goddamn son-of-a-bitch.”

  The slur barely fazed his father, who was pouring himself an afternoon bourbon.

  “Max. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Emma told me everything.”

  His father raised an imperious brow. “Well, well, well. I thought there was something between the two of you in the boardroom that day, but I didn’t realize it was so...serious.”

  The fact that his father didn’t even need to ask what he was talking about pushed Max to the limits of his patience, but he fought the urge to lash out, reminding himself again why he was here.

  He schooled his features back into his customary bland expression. He would not give his father the satisfaction.

  “Not that I blame you. She’s a beautiful woman. Smart, too. But everyone has a chink in the armor. Unlike you, family is very important to her. She would have done anything to help her poor, dying mother. I snared her much more easily than expected. Luckily, her mother took quite a downturn not long after she started working for you, so it made her easy pickings.”

  His father took a sip of his liquor.

  “Which was fortunate for me, because my next choice for informant was Gordon Farnsworth. The man loves to bet on the ponies. In fact, you should probably keep an eye on him. But he’s not nearly as easy on the eyes as Emma, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Don’t you dare say her name,” Max ordered, and his father looked taken aback by the venomous tone.

  “Touchy subject, I see. Although if you already know the tale, I suppose I can understand your anger. It wouldn’t do to have the CEO of Whitfield Industries fucking the woman who helped him commit insider trading for so many family friends, now would it?”

  Max walked over to the bar and poured himself a twelve-year-old Scotch from his father’s impressive collection. Hair of the dog. “So that’s your game? Frame me for insider trading? Blackmail me into giving you whatever it is you’re angling for, just like you’ve done to every person unfortunate enough to get in your way?”

  The memories of what had happened to John Beckett rushed in, flooding his brain, and for the millionth time, Max wished he’d never mentioned the idea of SecurePay to his father back then, let alone John’s tech brilliance.

  And the worst part was, Charles hadn’t had any intention of moving forward with SecurePay. He’d just bound John Beckett in legalese so that no one else could get their hands on the promising first steps he was making, or the patents he held.

  Half the reason that Max had been so dogged in his quest to make SecurePay a success was to ensure John hadn’t died in vain. That his legacy would live on. So he could show Aidan that his father’s life had amounted to something. And once again, his father had found a way to ruin everything.

  “That’s one option. But I’d prefer if you just announced at the next board meeting that I’m coming out of retirement.” Charles took a seat behind his ornately carved desk, some ostentatious remnant of the 1800s that he was inordinately proud of. “You and I can build Whitfield Industries together. Like we used to.”

  Max took a large swallow of good Scotch. “Go to hell.”

  “What are you going to do, son. Report me?” He sneered the words. “You didn’t do it when that fool Beckett drank himself into a stupor and wrapped himself around a pole, because you were too weak. You could have outed me for blackmail then, but you didn’t, because you cared more about Aidan’s feelings than you did about vengeance against me.”

  Max nodded. “You’re damn right I did. Because unlike me, Aidan worships his father. And I didn’t want him to have to deal with the fallout of John’s mistake, a mistake that would never have come to light if you hadn’t sent out your low-life spies to pick apart his life just so you get enough leverage to use him like a puppet.”

  “People always think money is the goal, but it’s not. Power is the goal, son. Without power, you have nothing. You never understood that, no matter how many times I tried to teach you that. It’s how I know you’re not cut out for business. You refuse to see how cutthroat it is. You’re too soft.”

  “If that’s how you feel, why do you want back in so badly?”

  “SecurePay is so much more than I expected when you pitched it to me back in the day. The world has changed so much in my lifetime, and I realize now that you were right to keep an eye to the future. But as I told Emma when I recruited her, you still need me. You make unnecessary mistakes. In fact, you’ve made the most rudimentary error of all—dallying with the help is the road to ruin.”

  Max’s hand clenched around his glass at the smear on Emma, the way his father spoke of her like she was nothing more than his plaything. Like she hadn’t played an integral part in getting SecurePay ready for market.

  “How much? How much did you pay her to ruin her life? And gain leverage over me?”

  “Over the last three years? Almost three hundred thousand dollars.”

  Max pulled out his phone and tapped through to his banking app so he could transfer the money. “There. Consider her debt paid. Your business with Emma Mathison is done. Don’t so much as glance in her direction ever again. Do I make myself clear?”

  Charles shook his head. “My God. I gave you more credit than that.”

  “Than what?”

  “Than falling for her. I mean, she’s beautiful. I’ll give you that. But I always thought you were a master of separating business and pleasure. When you chose Whitfield Industries over avenging Beckett’s death, over his son’s friendship, I thought I’d raised a warrior. But now a pretty face has turned you into a lovesick fool. Don’t you understand? I already have what I needed from her.”

  His father’s smarmy chuckle slithered across Max’s skin.

  “I believe this is the part where you concede gracefully.”

  Max took a step forward and looked his father right in the eye. “I regret every day that I didn’t take you down for what you did to John Beckett. And if the information you have on him wouldn’t wreak havoc on Aidan’s life, I would do it right now. But I’m not bringing you back in to Whitfield Industries. Not ever. Because you made a mistake, too, in underestimating the lengths I’m willing to go to destroy you.”

  “A fine show of spine, son, but it’s too late. If you don’t welcome me back from retirement with open arms and a big smile for the camera, then I’m going straight to the Feds.”

  Max finished his drink and banged the glass onto the formidable, but ugly, desk. “Well, you’re half right.”

  When Max walked out of his parents’ mansion, it was to find the raiding party of FBI agents ready to finish what he’d begun. He stepped out of their way as they poured into his father’s house through the door he’d left open.

  Better late than never, Max thought, letting his thoughts drift to John Beckett. Thanks to Emma, he’d managed to avenge his tech mentor’s death without having to reveal John’s secret to Aidan. And just like that, the burden he’d been carrying for the last five years felt lighter.

  He let the peace that came from doing the right thing wash over him as one of the agents stepped up to divest him of the wire they’d outfitted him with earlier.

  “Mr. Whitfield? If you’ll just wait, we’ll have some questions for you when this is over.”

  “Send them through my attorney. I have somewhere else to be.”

  Walking past the bevy of nondescript vehicles to the end of the driveway where Sully was waiting for him, Max got into his town car.

  “Back to the hotel?”

  Max nodded. It was as good a destination as any, because he needed to find Emma, and he had absolutely no idea where to start looking.

  Luckily, he k
new someone who could help.

  AJ’s face filled the phone screen, but before he could open his mouth, she was already talking. “If you’re calling to see if I got my thank-you money for helping to take down daddy dearest, then every single beautiful penny was accounted for and deposited, and I thank you for your prompt payment. It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

  “I need to find Emma.”

  To his surprise, she didn’t admonish him for his dictatorial tone like she usually did whenever he skipped the social niceties. She just nodded.

  “Since unlike you, I actually care about the environment, I forewent the charter and took the liberty of booking you a first-class ticket instead. I pushed everything to your phone—check-in information, car service, travel itinerary.”

  As if on cue, his other phone began buzzing frantically within the breast pocket of his suit jacket.

  “Emma’s staying at some gross, one-star hotel, so when you find her, definitely suggest going back to your place. I’m telling you, when she sees the suite I booked you, you are totally getting laid. It’s that nice.”

  Max scowled at her, his mind running through the number of privacy breaches she would have had to commit to make all that happen, but she just shrugged.

  “Ninja, remember?”

  Oh, he remembered all right.

  AJ made a production of glancing at her empty wrist, miming checking the time. “You’d better get a move on, too. You have just over two hours to pack and clear security, because honestly, I expected this call at least an hour ago. This girl’s really thrown off your game.”

  “We’ll talk about your tendency to overstep when I get back.”

  AJ flicked the warning aside. “Like you’re going to remember to be annoyed with me by then. Your return tickets aren’t for another ten days. Have fun. Send pictures. I don’t want to see you in a suit until you’re back on American soil. Oh! And don’t forget your passport. Side note, I didn’t know your middle name was—”

  Max disconnected the call before he shoved the phone back into his jacket as Sully navigated the afternoon traffic that stood between him and his destination.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  RED ROOFS, GREEN TREES, azure water—Dubrovnik was a visual feast of colors. Emma strolled along the most beautiful pebble beach, the rocks warm and smooth beneath her feet, amidst the sounds of lapping water and happy people frolicking under the warm Croatian sun, willing herself not to succumb to the misery that dogged her every step.

  Some trip of a lifetime this was turning out to be.

  She sighed. Maybe a drink would help.

  Angling herself away from the beach chairs and farther up the shore, she headed for the nearest beachfront bar.

  “Um...jeden piña colada. Mosim.”

  The bartender smiled kindly, despite her pitiful attempt at Croatian.

  “Make it two.”

  The sound of his voice hit her like a stun gun, freezing her in place, her synapses stuttering as her brain tried to make sense of what was happening.

  Max.

  Max was here.

  He reached past her and set a few bills of colorful Croatian kuna beside her arm.

  The barkeep’s smile grew wider. “Right away, sir,” he said in perfect English as he swept the money from the counter.

  Emma had spent her first four days in Dubrovnik sobbing in her cramped, dingy room at the budget hotel, binging on self-pity and medenjaci cookies.

  It would just figure that he would show up today, during her first foray into the world where she didn’t feel like she was undergoing open heart surgery with no anesthetic, to rip open the wounds she’d worked so hard to stitch back up.

  And it would just figure that her eyes prickled with overwhelming relief that he had.

  Emma drew her first easy breath in five days.

  When she turned around to confirm that she wasn’t in the midst of a hallucination, he was much closer than she’d expected. Not crowding her so much as filling up space with his presence.

  Her nipples tingled to attention at the sight of him, the familiarity of his nearness. Her teal bathing suit did nothing to hide her body’s reaction.

  Stupid bikini.

  In her body’s defense, Max was hard to resist when he was fully dressed in a suit. But Max in nothing but red boardshorts and Ray-Bans, his damp hair pushed back from his forehead? It took everything she had not to throw herself in his arms.

  She turned back to the bar, rested her elbows on the scarred wood. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m on the lam, actually.”

  He mimicked her position against the counter.

  “Well,” she said lightly, forcing herself to match his conversational tone, “it sounds like you came to the right place. I understand there are no extradition laws here.”

  His mouth pulled up in a hint of a smile and her knees went weak. She took a deep, steadying breath. “So why are you running?”

  “Because my board of directors is pissed that I pulled the plug on the SecurePay launch at the last minute.”

  The announcement caught her by surprise, and she turned to look at him. The ache in her chest returned, but this time it was in solidarity with him, and she felt better able to bear the hurt. He must be devastated.

  “And because Kaylee is definitely pissed that I made her clean up the mess all by herself, so I could go have my father arrested for felony blackmail.”

  Oh, God. Emma sucked in a breath as he pushed his sunglasses up into his hair and met her eyes.

  “And while this is pure speculation, I would imagine the FBI is probably pissed that I left the country while they were in the middle of raiding his house.”

  She didn’t realize that she’d reached for him until her hand made contact with his forearm, an attempt to comfort him over the tumultuous events he’d tried to pass off in a joking tone.

  “I’m so sorry, Max.” Not for Charles. He deserved what he got. But he was Max’s father, and that couldn’t have been an easy choice, even after everything he’d done.

  His gaze dropped to her fingers on his skin, and when he looked up again, there was nothing light or jokey about him.

  “I know who my father is. He’s a manipulator. He plays people and makes money off it, and he doesn’t give a damn that he’s destroying people’s lives in the process. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am for what he did to you, using your mother as leverage like that.”

  Max dropped his head. “But none of that’s really why I’m here.” The confession was soft. “I’m actually looking for something.”

  “Oh?” Emma swallowed against the fizzy feeling under her skin, like her blood had been replaced with champagne. “Well, if it’s medenjaci cookies, you might be too late. That’s pretty much all I’ve eaten since I got here.”

  “Not cookies,” he said, quelling her attempt to hit the release valve. “A second chance.”

  Her body quaked with the most sublime mixture of fear and optimism. “You’re a long way from home for someone who doesn’t believe in second chances.”

  “I’d say I’m exactly where I should be for a man who believes in love.”

  The words detonated around her like a bomb, and she couldn’t breathe through the emotional shrapnel.

  “You love me?” she asked shakily, hating the hope that twined through her heart. After everything she’d done, everything he’d done, she’d never let herself wish for this moment. And yet...

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know there’s something special between us.” He pushed away from the bar. Stood tall as he turned to face her. “You say you’re all about taking chances, making memories. So prove it.”

  Emma gestured around her at the beach, at Dubrovnik in general. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “A pretty vacation isn’t takin
g a chance. It’s running away. Taking a risk when you don’t have to deal with the consequences isn’t taking a risk at all.”

  Max stepped closer, and she swore, despite the warmth of the beach-scented air, that she could feel his body heat, even though he wasn’t touching her. She kept her eyes straight ahead, staring at the tanned column of his neck.

  Ever so gently, he tucked his finger beneath her chin and lifted her face until their eyes met, and what she saw in those amber depths made her knees weak.

  “Come back with me.”

  Something warm unfurled in her chest, replacing the guilt and sadness of the last few years with all the love she felt for this beautiful, complicated man who’d flown across an ocean to find her.

  “Always so bossy,” she chided, her dawning smile wobbling on her lips. “You can’t just order me to leave. No extradition laws, remember?”

  “Then I’m asking. I’m asking you to take a chance with me, Emma. To build memories with me. I love you, and I want you in my life.”

  Everything inside her broke open at the words.

  “God, Max. I love you so much.” She was already wrapping her arms around his neck, lifting onto her toes, as the words spilled from her lips a split-second before her mouth met his.

  His arms closed around her with stunning force, pulling her against him like he never wanted to let go.

  She didn’t want him to.

  It was heaven, being skin-to-skin with Max again, her breasts crushed against his unyielding chest as the sweet thrill of arousal loosened her limbs.

  She’d missed this. Him.

  She moaned in protest when he pulled away. He was breathing heavily as he leaned his forehead to hers.

  “Emma?”

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re about forty-five seconds away from me violating any number of public indecency laws.”

  She pressed tighter against the evidence of his claim, wringing a groan from him. His fingers dug into her hips.

  “And since the last place I want to spend tonight is in a Croatian prison, we need to get out of here.” He pressed a quick, hard kiss to her mouth. “Right now.”