Falling for My Beautiful Ward
~A May December Forbidden Romance~
~The Falling Series~
© 2018
By Cassandra Dee
Please note that this book was originally released as Temptation. It has been revised and expanded for your reading pleasure.
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© 2017, 2018
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all products of the author's imagination.
Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters are represented as 18 or over.
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ABOUT THIS BOOK
Falling for My Beautiful Ward: A Forbidden Romance
She’s too beautiful for her own good.
After Daisy’s mom died, she left me as her daughter’s legal guardian. A single guy who knew nothing about parenting was suddenly saddled with a little girl. So I packed the kid off to boarding school, and we didn’t cross paths for years.
But now Daisy’s back.
She’s in my mansion, eating my food. Dancing to music in her head while humming like a butterfly.
I can’t stop myself from looking because the girl’s so young and innocent.
But that’s the problem. Daisy’s my ward for crying out loud, and no man should feel this way about a girl living under his roof.
So what do I do now?
I can’t stop.
I don’t want to stop.
And to my surprise, she doesn’t want to stop either.
We’re screwed, because this is too damn good to be true.
Hey Readers – This book was originally released as Temptation. It’s been revised and expanded for your reading pleasure. As always, there’s a guaranteed HEA with no cheating and cliffhangers. Enjoy! Love, Cassie
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Falling for My Beautiful Ward
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
A Sneak Peek: Client Number 6
CHAPTER ONE
A Sneak Peek: Sold at the Auction
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
MORE BY CASSANDRA DEE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DEDICATION
For Lee Rey, a superfan of The Falling Series.
CHAPTER ONE
Daisy
I’ve always been unpopular, the girl hiding out in the library and picked last for all the sports teams. But I don’t blame my classmates. After all, whichever team I was on was practically guaranteed to lose.
“Throw it to Daisy,” opponents would whisper. “Hit the ball to Daisy because she’s got two left hands.”
And it was true. I was so gangly and clumsy that if the ball even sort-of sailed in my direction, I ducked and ran instead of catching and throwing. So I felt personally responsible whenever my group lost, and was always grateful when the bell rang signaling the end of P.E.
But physical education was the least of it. Sometimes, I didn’t feel like I was good at anything. The bowls I molded in ceramics class were lopsided and floppy, and the articles I wrote for the school newspaper never seemed to get published. I was pretty much an outcast, eating lunch alone most days. In fact, there were entire weeks where I put my head down and hoped to disappear, trying to keep out of everyone’s way.
But the last year has been eye-opening because I grew curves of the good kind. At first it was just my boobs popping out to Double Ds, but my ass and thighs followed, and pretty soon I had an hourglass figure like the kind you see in old-time movies. Once upon a time, heroines were size twelves and proud of it, flaunting their god-given assets instead of hiding them under big jackets and smocks. And even if my figure’s not popular per se, it makes me feel better because I’m more confident, and people can sense the change. Some kids invited me to be in their study group, and I have a lab partner who actually treats me decently now. Best of all, I’ve made a couple friends. Okay, maybe I don’t know these girls that well yet, but you know what? It’s nice to be part of a tribe for a change.
“Oh my god, did you see Nelson Peters the other day?” whispered Natalie, a bubbly blonde with a slightly crooked nose. “He looked sooo hot in his letter jacket.”
We were hanging out by the fountain in front of school and Trina, the most popular girl at school, snorted, scrunching her perfect ski slope nose and letting out an unladylike harrumph.
“He wears his letter jacket every day Nat, it’s nothing new,” she remarked sarcastically, twirling a lock of platinum hair around her finger while snapping her gum and looking bored. Trina has been queen bee since freshman year, holding court after school each day in front of the fountain. I was excited to be there that afternoon and part of the clique surrounding her, standing in a semi-circle of supplicants.
“Oh right,” squealed Natalie. “Well, Nelson looks good, he’s really rockin’ football this year. Coach says he’s going to be a starter.”
Trina just snorted again.
“Don’t get your panties in a scrunch because you never know what’ll happen,” Trina scoffed. “Besides, high school boys are boring.”
High school boys are boring? That was new because I’ve never been asked out by a boy of any age before. But I wanted to belong, so I said the first thing that popped into my mind.
“Yeah, I agree, teenage boys can be so boring,” I said in a low whisper, looking around, not even sure that anyone could even hear. And it seemed that no one had because they continued their own conversations, animatedly talking about this or that.
Except Trina heard. She cast me an odd look before tossing out, “Yeah, I’m not into Pokeman Go or whatever the new shit is with these guys,” she said. “I like real men.”
I smiled at her.
“Me too, real men rock,” I said a little more boldly.
Trina stared at me even harder then.
“Who are you again?” she asked. By now, more girls had turned towards us and were listening and watching avidly.
I hesitated for a moment.
“I’m Daisy Smith. I have English with a bunch of you guys,” I said, swallowing suddenly. I’d never felt the full force of
the group’s gaze on me and it was uncomfortable, like being in a powerful tractor beam and unable to budge.
But Trina snapped her gum again, looking at me thoughtfully before smirking.
“Well you’re about to get your chance because a real man is coming,” she grinned lasciviously. “Daisy Smith, why don’t you go talk with Mr. Ranger? You said you were in English with us right? He’s coming around the corner, so go strike up a conversation.”
I flushed. Because John Ranger is a new teacher to the district who couldn’t have been more than in his late twenties. He was great at his job, explaining books to a bunch of kids who had no interest whatsoever in plot development or other literary devices. But Mr. Ranger definitely had the attention of his female pupils because he was built like a tank with muscles popping out everywhere. Personally, I didn’t think it was attractive because his muscles had muscles, but there was definitely a contingent of teenage girls who swooned whenever he walked past.
“Yeah go talk to him,” squeaked Maria, another hanger-on. “Go! Go! He’s coming, he’s coming.”
She practically pushed me onto the walkway, my round body tumbling forwards as my boobs bounced up and down. I shook my head, frantically making my way back to the group when Trina’s voice cut like a knife through the air.
“Get his special pen,” her voice taunted in my ears, “or get lost.”
I whirled around, eyes wide in shock. His special pen? Unfortunately, I knew exactly what she was talking about. Mr. Ranger had a blue pen that he did everything with, from grading papers to writing up summaries. There was nothing remarkable about it except it was inscribed with the date of his college graduation, May 2010. He carried it everywhere with him, whirling it in the air or passing it through his fingers like a baton. I could see it poking out of his breast pocket even now, the blue tip a small dot against his overly-muscled chest.
“I can’t!” I gasped, “He’d notice immediately. I can’t take that from him!”
Trina just smirked again.
“You will or don’t come back,” she said nastily, whirling around like a haughty princess with her blonde hair flying. The other girls did the same, tittering behind their hands before turning away as well, pretending like they weren’t watching.
I choked a bit. This was the Twilight Zone. I was caught in some sort of sick rite of passage where I had to walk through fire to be part of the group. Had the other girls suffered the same? Had they all had to prove themselves somehow and offer themselves up as sacrificial lambs before “fitting in”? I flushed. I didn’t want to do this. I was still new in my curvy body and unsure of myself. I didn’t want to talk to anyone in front of the judgmental eyes of the clique.
But on the other hand, the Queen Bee had just spoken to me for the first time, and I had to reply. It was life and death. My entire social career was teetering dangerously on the precipice. So I took a deep breath and braced myself.
“Hi Mr. Ranger,” I said, stepping into the big man’s path, putting a shiny smile on my face. I half expected him to brush by me without a word.
But my new body is like a magnet for men – even for guys who are allegedly off-limits.
“Hey,” the musclehead said, blue eyes peering out from that overly-bronzed face. Had Mr. Ranger used a tanning lotion of some sort? My nose wrinkled involuntarily, filled with the scent of coconut and some type of citrus. Oh my god! He was using Hawaiian Tropic, and I could see a tell-tale brown drip staining his collar. But this was no time to dilly-dally because I had work to get done. So taking another deep breath, I went for it.
“I really like the book we’re reading in class, Pride and …” I stumbled. Oh shit, what was that book called again? It was some Victorian classic, pretty good actually, but I couldn’t remember what the title was. It was Pride and something. Pride and the Pauper? Pride and the Prince? Oh shit, oh shit, my cheeks flushed and I bit my lip.
Mr. Ranger seemed amused more than anything else.
“Pride and Prejudice?” he supplied with a wry grin. “There’s a re-make of it out right now in the theaters. I thought you said you saw it.”
I flushed again. I had, but being caught in the spotlight threw me off. I tried to act casual, winking and laughing lightly like nothing was wrong.
“Oh yeah, I saw the movie, it was really good,” I rushed. “I felt really bad, the main character was from a poor family and needed to marry rich. Isn’t it just so awful that women had to do that back then? I’m so glad those days are gone.”
Mr. Ranger looked at me with amusement.
“Well our heroine ended up with the right guy, so I guess that counts for something,” he said wryly. “But you knew that, right Daisy? Because you read the book, right?”
I nodded fervently.
“Absolutely, I absolutely finished the book, it was really good,” I babbled. “I was just wondering …”
My voice trailed off. How to get that pen? How to mix Pride and Prejudice with that damned pen? My mind worked furiously, reaching in all directions.
Mr. Ranger drawled again.
“Wondering what?” he rumbled, this time not bothering to hide his wandering gaze. It trailed up and down my curves but all I felt was grossed out, my skin curdling. How could anyone think this overdeveloped gorilla was hot? Sure Mr. Ranger was tall and muscular, with frosted hair and a flashing smile, but that was the problem. The spiky highlights were too obvious, the white smile too white. I wasn’t attracted at all.
But still, I was desperate to fit in, and my mind seized on anything to keep the conversation going.
“My guardian is interested in donating money to the English Department,” I blurted, “Tristan Marks, my guardian, is interested in making a contribution. Could you come over and talk with him, explain to him how he could help Central Prep?” I rushed.
I almost smacked my forehead. WTF was I thinking? My guardian is a cold, domineering billionaire who’s remote and out of reach. There was nothing Mr. Marks would be less interested in. My mind spun furiously, trying to think of ways to backtrack and make up for my boo-boo.
But it was too late because Mr. Ranger nodded.
“Sure, I’d love to chat with him,” he said with a eager grin. “How about tonight?” he babbled.
I stood stock still.
“Tonight?” I parroted faintly. “That’s a little soon.”
But Mr. Ranger wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Next week then,” he said swiftly. “And I’ll help you prepare for the upcoming quiz too,” he threw in. “Given that you didn’t know the name of the book we’re reading, you could really use it,” he added with a suggestive quirk of his eyebrows. God, did this guy dye his eyebrows too? They looked suspiciously golden and shiny, liked they’d been dipped in Vaseline.
I smiled back faintly.
“Um, okay, let me check with Tristan first because he’s really busy,” I mumbled, fidgeting a little, “but it sounds okay for now.” This was like a runaway train going off the rails. I was way in over my head, but my mouth kept talking like it was disconnected from my brain. “Should we meet in your classroom or in the library?” I asked, babbling still. “Maybe if Tristan sees the school, he’ll have some ideas of what’s needed here.”
But Mr. Ranger shook his head.
“Naw, your place is good,” he drawled with a wink. “Besides I’ve always wanted to get a look at the Marks Estate.”
I stopped short. Oh shit, I’d forgotten that everyone knows Tristan Marks. He’s a billionaire constantly in the papers for some business deal or other. Sometimes photographers even camped outside our property, ready to snap a pic of the man getting into and out of his car. I was in deep ka-ka for sure because he’d never welcome this invasion to his privacy.
But the snowball just kept on rolling, becoming a full-on avalanche.
“Alright, next week at your place,” Mr. Ranger chortled with a grin before staggering off comically. He was almost bow-legged because he was so overbuilt. Mea
nwhile, the blood drained from my face. What the hell? What had I gotten myself into? Unfortunately, the gaggle of girls swarmed me then, their voices cacophonous and ringing painfully in my ears.
“Oh my god, he was sooo hot!” squealed Mandy.
“Did you get the pen?” asked Carly, “I thought I saw you reach for it in his pocket.”
Trina cut them off.
“She didn’t get it, I was watching,” the blonde said authoritatively. “But,” she added with a sly grin, “Daisy’s got a date with Mr. Ranger now. Better work it girl, work it!” she whooped.
The other ladies began tittering too, letting out little squeals and gasps of anticipation.
“Oh my god, a date with the hottest teacher here!” giggled Carly. “Get his pen then. Get it? Get his pen,” she said meaningfully, making googly eyes at her friends. The entire crew collapsed into giggles, high-pitched and grating to my ears.
I had to at least try to put a stop to it.
“It’s, um, it’s more of a business meeting,” I said hesitantly. “Mr. Ranger’s coming over to talk with my guardian about a possible donation to the school.”
“Oh please Daisy,” said Trina authoritatively, rolling her eyes. “It was all a set-up. Don’t tell me your guardian’s actually going to be home. What is this guardian thing anyways? Who cares?” she said dismissively. “Just get Mr. Ranger to come over when no one’s over and then feel him all over for that pen,” she said lasciviously, making disgusting grunting noises with her mouth.
The crew was practically a group of shrieking hyenas at this point, the innuendos out of control, each one taking things to the next level.
“Hey,” I began futilely. But my protests were drowned out by the escalating noise.
“Daisy and Mr. Ranger, sitting in a tree,” Carly chanted. “P-E-N-N-I-N-G!”
WTF? This made no sense whatsoever. What the hell was penning? But it didn’t matter because the clique was expecting results now.
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