Tempting Christa
An Irresistibly Mine Duet - Book 1
Tracie Delaney
M. A. Comley
Contents
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Books by Tracie Delaney
1. Christa
2. Dayton
3. Christa
4. Dayton
5. Christa
6. Christa
7. Dayton
8. Christa
9. Dayton
10. Christa
11. Dayton
12. Christa
13. Christa
14. Christa
15. Dayton
16. Dayton
17. Christa
18. Dayton
19. Christa
20. Christa
21. Christa
22. Dayton
23. Christa
24. Dayton
25. Christa
Author Notes
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Books by Tracie Delaney
Acknowledgments
About Tracie Delaney
About M.A. Comley
Copyright © 2019 Tracie Delaney
Copyright © 2019 M.A. Comley
Edited by Emmy Ellis at Studioenp
Edited by Delphine Noble-Fox
Proofreading by Love2ReadRomance
Cover art by Tiffany @TEBlack Designs
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in uniform or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Books by Tracie Delaney
The Winning Ace Series
Cash - A Winning Ace Short Story
Winning Ace
Losing Game
Grand Slam
Winning Ace Boxset
Mismatch
Break Point - A Winning Ace Novella
Stand-alone
My Gift To You
The Brook Brothers Series
The Blame Game
Against All Odds
His To Protect
Web of Lies
Irresistibly Mine Series
Tempting Christa
Avenging Christa
1
Christa
In my twenty-five years of being alive on this earth, I’d never seen anyone look at me with such hatred in their eyes. That it was Rochelle, my former best friend, sending such a vicious glare in my direction made it so much worse.
Ignoring the violent tremor in my legs and the terrible churning in my stomach, I kept my attention fixed firmly on the exit as I walked out of the King County Courthouse. Three full days of a defense attorney doing his utmost to shame me, blame me, and yet still I kept my head high, spine erect.
The weather had significantly worsened since I arrived that morning for the sentencing hearing. Dark clouds loomed, promising torrential rain. I flagged down a taxi, but before I could get in, sharp nails grabbed my arm, puncturing the skin, intending to hurt—and succeeding.
“This isn’t over,” Rochelle hissed in my face. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done to my brother.”
I wrenched my shoulder upward, dislodging Rochelle’s grip. “Pay for what I’ve done?” I laughed, the sound full of bitterness, and leaned in, determined to show Rochelle I wasn’t afraid of her, of Sutton, of any single member of the Atwood family. They might be one of the most powerful dynasties on the west coast of America, but I’d proven that no one was above the law. “Ten years isn’t nearly enough for what Sutton did to me.”
My voice shook. Hardly surprising really. Two and a half years filled with sleepless nights, lying in bed drenched in sweat, scared of my own shadow in case Sutton sent one of his minions after me again. The fear, the helplessness, the rage and hatred. The struggle to come to terms with the depth of betrayal by the man I’d loved. But all that was behind me now. Tomorrow, I’d be in New York, far out of reach of Sutton’s influence. He might think he’s a big shot on this side of the country, but on the other side, I’d be surprised if anyone had heard of him.
I didn’t want to leave my home, or Isla, my only friend, or the apartment where Max had taken his first steps, but I had no choice. Even incarcerated, Sutton would find a way to reach me, to threaten and intimidate me. If I stuck around, I’d never be free. With the long reach of his power, he’d be able to keep tabs on me, but I wouldn’t make it easy for him. If he wanted to continue to torture me, he’d have to find me first.
“It’s nothing to what I’ll do to you,” Rochelle shouted. “Fucking bitch.”
I stumbled backward, her vicious words and acrid breath hitting my face. God, how could I have thought this woman beautiful? She was as ugly as him. Evil had a name—and that name was Atwood.
“That’s enough, Ms. Atwood.”
Detective George Harris appeared at my side. He’d been an enormous support since he’d visited me in the hospital the day after the assault. I remember peering at him through one eye because the other one had swollen shut. I could barely speak, my lips were so badly cut and bruised. Every part of me was in agony, and yet one look at the kindness on his face had told me that someone was in my corner. That what I’d assumed wasn’t true. I wasn’t alone.
Arek, Sutton’s right-hand man, took hold of Rochelle’s arm. “Come, Rochelle. She’ll pay. The whore knows it’s only a matter of time.”
I winced at his choice of words, an indelible insult I couldn’t forget. I curled my arm around my abdomen. George stepped closer to me and glowered at Arek. “Don’t try my patience, Kawalski.”
Arek snorted a laugh while Rochelle opened her mouth as though to speak, then changed her mind. She spun around and stalked off, her designer coat flaring out behind her, high-heeled boots clicking on the sidewalk. Arek sent a final ominous stare in my direction, then trotted after her like an obedient puppy.
I heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you, George.” When you’d spent as long with someone as I had with Detective Harris, first names came naturally.
George opened the taxi door. “Stay in touch.”
I nodded. “I will.”
“And take care of the little fella,” he added as I slipped inside the cab.
I grinned up at him, my heart full of love for my perfect baby boy. It wasn’t Max’s fault his father happened to be a psychopath. “Goes without saying.”
George closed the door, and the cab pulled away. I twisted in my seat, watching out the back wi
ndow as the police detective who’d become a dear friend through the worst time in my life disappeared from sight. I gave the driver my address and blew out a breath, releasing the tension that had been mounting ever since I walked into court earlier that day.
I’d put my inability to see Sutton, the real man beneath the charm he showed the world, down to the innocence of youth a long time ago. I still had the occasional self-deprecating moment where I wished I’d been more perceptive. I’d been taken in by his charisma, his sophisticated persona, his handsome face that disguised the malevolence underneath. I thought he loved me, but all he really wanted to do was control me.
Well, no more. I was older now, and wiser. I knew what rock bottom looked and felt like.
Never again would I be influenced by power and success. Never again would I be blind to exploitation and dominance. To anger and intimidation. To cruelty hidden behind a sharp suit and a fancy office. I’d dig and dig until I discovered the truth that lay beneath the façade.
I doubted I’d ever learn to trust another man, but if I did, he’d be kind and thoughtful, gentle and softly spoken. He’d treat me like a queen, and Max would be the apple of his eye.
Sadly, Prince Charming only existed in fairy tales.
The cab stopped outside my apartment building. I walked inside, my steps lighter, the cloak of fear finally discarded. I couldn’t wait for Max and me to start our new lives. It’d be scary, moving to a new city on the other side of the country, away from the place I called home, but Sutton had ruined any chance of me sticking around.
Rochelle had tried to buy my silence, encouraged me to drop the charges and change my statement in return for a sizeable sum. I’d taken the money, settled my extortionate medical bills, then reneged on the agreement. See, that was why Sutton ran the family business inherited from his father; Rochelle wasn’t the savviest when it came to the corporate world. I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt either. For what I’d been through, the Atwoods owed me. Hell, with the depth of their coffers, they’d hardly miss it.
I still had a little money left over, enough for a down payment on a half-decent place for me and Max to rent, and at least three months living expenses to give me some breathing space to secure a job in my chosen field. I spent a lot of my recovery time studying software development, although I wouldn’t call myself an expert. All my experience was theory-based, so I knew that I’d have to start at the very bottom of any company willing to give me a shot. That was fine by me. All I craved was a safe place to live, to make sure Max was well looked after while I worked, and have enough residual cash to pay my bills.
I inserted the key into the lock of my apartment, then opened the door. My gaze fell on Isla sitting in the middle of the floor with Max, and I smiled. He was pushing his train across the carpet while Isla made excited noises, not even complaining when my twenty-four-month-old son repeatedly rammed the train into her shins.
“Hey, you guys.”
Isla glanced up, her face twisted in worry. In contrast, Max broke into a beaming smile, and he held out his arms for me to pick him up.
“Momma.”
My heart swelled for my sweet boy. I buried my face in his neck and breathed in his gorgeous baby smell.
“How’s my little man doin’?”
I covered his face in kisses and was rewarded with peals of laughter.
After a couple of minutes, he wriggled in my arms. “Down,” he said, pointing at his train set which was clearly a lot more interesting than his boring old momma.
I popped him onto the floor.
“Everything okay?” I asked Isla.
“He’s been a dream,” Isla replied, getting up off the floor then dusting down her jeans. “Hit me with it then.”
“Ten years,” I replied.
Isla gasped. “Oh my God! You absolute badass.”
“Hardly,” I scoffed. “My hands wouldn’t stop shaking the whole time the judge read out the sentence. Not exactly Supergirl, am I?”
“Girl, you took on the Atwoods, and won.”
I hugged her. Isla was one of the few people who knew the full horror of what Sutton had done to me. Well, apart from the judge, the jury, the defense and prosecution attorneys, and half the Seattle police force. Oh, not forgetting the members of the public who’d crowded the gallery for the three weeks of the trial, desperately gorging on my agony as if it were a delicious feast. But Isla had been there from the very beginning. I’d met her in the hospital gardens, skipping because she’d received the news her cancer was in remission. We’d become firm friends, connected by our mutual pain and adversity.
Isla had been the one who’d encouraged and cajoled me to report Sutton to the police. She’d stood by me through the threats, the intimidation, the attempts to destroy my character. She’d looked after Max when I’d felt so broken that all I could do was curl up in bed and cry. She was my rock, and I’d miss her like hell.
“You will come to see me in New York, won’t you?” I asked her, brushing the mass of chaotic hair away from her face.
Isla’s mop was legendary. It didn’t matter what she tried to do to tame her curls, they resisted her at every turn.
She hugged me warmly. “Girlfriend, you ain’t getting rid of me.” She bent down and ruffled Max’s hair, then grabbed her purse. “I’ll be here at ten tomorrow morning to take you to the airport. I make no apologies for how many tears there will be, so just deal, okay?”
Laughing, I showed Isla to the door, gave her a last hug, then closed up. I slipped on the chain and checked several times that the deadlock was on. It was a pointless exercise really. Sutton’s ‘messenger’ proved that no amount of locks could stop a professional from breaking into my home. Most people would never realize how vulnerable they truly were.
Me? I knew only too well.
2
Dayton
“That’ll be all for today, ladies and gents.”
Chairs scraped against the cherry-wood flooring as my executive committee rose in harmony to their feet and gathered their things. I held up my forefinger at Angie, my PA. She nodded to acknowledge my request and retook her seat. My HR director was the last to leave, and as soon as she closed the door, I turned to Angie.
“Did you call Tiffany’s and have the usual sent to Caroline’s apartment, along with the flowers and a card?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And did you put the exact message on the card, word for word?”
Angie’s lips mashed into a thin line. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
I knew Angie thought me a bastard, but I didn’t care about her opinion. All that mattered to me was that she did the job I paid her an extortionately high wage for, and to my exacting requirements. My last PA had assumed she had some flexibility in following my instructions. Wrong. Hence, she no longer worked for me.
When Angie sat there looking at me expectantly, I scowled. “That’ll be all.”
I spun around in my chair and picked up my phone. The door to my office quietly closed. I’d bet my left kidney Angie would love to slam it, but she knew me far too well to risk such an idiotic move. She had a husband who’d recently been let go after ten years working for an investment bank on Wall Street, and three kids. She needed this job. I always found those kinds of employees made the most diligent, obedient workers.
I flicked through my contacts. I needed a date for the gala on Friday. Susannah? No, too clingy. Barbara? Hell no, not after last time. Elaine? Hmm, hadn’t she recently got engaged? I’ll put her down as a possible.
Maybe I’d been hasty in dumping Caroline. I should have waited until Saturday morning. Then again, she’d sealed her fate the minute she’d asked the stupidest question a woman could ask a man like me: Where is this going? The answer: Nowhere, darling.
“Mr. Somers, a reminder, sir, that you’re meeting Mr. Gillan for lunch,” Angie’s voice came through the intercom.
I checked my watch. Damn. Twelve forty-five already. “Get Paul to brin
g the car around. It’s raining.”
“Yes, sir.”
I slipped my phone in my pocket and grabbed my overcoat. I rode down to the lobby in my private elevator. The rain was pouring down as I peered outside. My car was still inching its way through the heavy traffic. I sighed, irritated. If there was one thing I hated, it was being kept waiting.
A cab pulled sharply into the curb, right outside my building, earning a blast on the horn from the car behind. The cabbie gestured with a one-fingered salute. Gotta love New York. The back door opened, and a pair of shapely, nylon-covered legs topped off with four-inch black stilettos caught my eye. Moments later, the owner of those sexy legs alighted from the cab. She caught her heel on the edge of the curb, stumbled, righted herself without falling, then looked up.
My breath snagged in my throat. Hello, gorgeous. Her beauty was understated rather than obvious, but before I could check her out properly, she opened an umbrella. Goddamn rain.
“Dayton.”
I dragged my attention away from the mystery girl to my red-faced ex, Caroline, who was shaking water from her umbrella all over my Italian tiled floor. I glowered. “I’m busy.”
Her painted-red talons landed on my arm. “Please, baby. We need to talk.”
Tempting Christa: An Irresistibly Mine Duet - Book 1 Page 1
