Temptation

by Smeltzer, Micalea

  “What are you saying?” I whisper.

  I know what he’s saying, I’m not stupid, but I have to hear him say it.

  “You have until next Saturday to find a place, pack your stuff, and be out of my hair. If you’re still here I will personally put you out on the street with nothing but the clothes on your back,” he hisses menacingly, his dark eyes shining.

  My mouth gapes open in an O of surprise. I know Rajas Kapur is a bad man but this is low, even for him.

  “Do you understand?” he asks, tilting his head to appraise me.

  “Yes, sir,” I say, a bite to my tone. But I know there’s no point in trying to fight with him. It’d be a waste of breath. He’s clearly made up his mind and he’s getting off on kicking me out. I bet he also kicks puppies and burns butterfly wings for fun.

  “And anything you leave will become mine,” he warns.

  I clamp my teeth together to resist the urge to yell at him. Yelling won’t help my cause. It’s going to be next to impossible to find a place to rent, or even a room, let alone a place to store all our stuff. All of Dev’s stuff is still here too. I haven’t had a chance to go through it, and with his death so fresh, I haven’t wanted to part with anything.

  I try to appeal to a softer part of him, some piece that maybe has a heart. “A week isn’t going to be long enough to find a place. Would you consider giving me longer?” I ask as nicely as possible, even though I want to reach across the table and slap him. What he’s doing is wrong and he knows it.

  He smirks. “I changed my mind. You need to be out by Thursday.”

  I bite my lip to contain the expletives that want to shoot out of my mouth. I hate this man more every time I see him.

  “I’ll see myself out,” he says, smiling. He stands and heads for the door. “Thursday,” he calls back in warning, before opening the door and leaving.

  The door closes behind him, the sound ringing with finality.

  In a matter of a week, I’ve managed to lose my boyfriend and my house.

  I bury my face in my hands.

  “Sloane, you have the worst luck ever. Didn’t your mom tell you breaking a mirror brought seven years of bad luck? Do you never listen to your mother’s words of wisdom?” I groan into my hands. No, I never listen to my crazy, superstitious, dog loving, crystal ball reading mother.

  “Better start now,” I say to myself. “Maybe she’s onto something.”

  I empty his tea cup—the bastard didn’t even drink any—and rinse it out, leaving the cup on the counter. I grin to myself. One thing I’m definitely leaving behind is this damn cup.

  I take a deep breath and spin in a circle, taking in the flat.

  Everything from the large sectional, to the coffee table, TV and entertainment center. All my books, Dev’s records, all our pictures, and stuff.

  What was I going to do with all of it? I couldn’t afford a storage unit and right now I didn’t even know if I could find an apartment to rent, or even a room.

  I was going to end up homeless, and Rajas knew it. I’m sure he was delighted at the thought.

  Sick bastard.

  No wonder his first wife left him. I wonder if he’s the reason Siva left.

  I exhale a shaky breath.

  I lose Dev, no tears.

  I lose my house, no tears.

  What’s wrong with me? Am I broken?

  I press my lips together. If I am broken, am I too damaged to ever be fixed?

  ***

  I spent the next day frantically trying to find somewhere to move, but every place I called had either been rented or I got an immediate no.

  It’s Wednesday now and I’m still not having any luck.

  “Hi, I’m calling to inquire about the flat available? Oh, I see. Thanks anyway,” I say and hang up. In frustration, I throw the phone across the room and groan. That is the fifteenth place I’ve called and my time is up. Rajas will expect me to be out of here tomorrow.

  A cry of panic escapes my lips. I pick my phone up off the floor and dial the last number I have circled for a room to rent.

  My last hope.

  “Hi my name is Sloane, I’m calling to inquire about the room available?”

  “It’s been taken,” says the gruff man.

  “Are you kidding me?” I shriek into the phone, panic causing my voice to spike an octave. “As of tomorrow I’m homeless!”

  “I’m sorry,” he says but I can tell he doesn’t mean it.

  I hang up and slam my phone down on the table.

  “Ugh,” I groan, lowering my arms and head to the table.

  I’m going to be forced to go back home to the States where my mother will take pleasure in saying I told you so. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom, and I know she wouldn’t be trying to hurt my feelings, but she would be.

  The dryer starts to beep, and I storm over to it, dragging my clothes out and into a laundry basket.

  I slam the dryer door closed and scream, “The stupid, arrogant, hypocritical, jerk.”

  A loud knock on the door stops my tirade.

  I swear to God if that man is here to kick me out I early, it’ll be over my dead body.

  Not bothering to look through the peephole I rip the door open so roughly it slams into the opposite wall.

  “I certainly hope you weren’t talking about me in there.” Siva stands before me, smirking slightly. He’s clearly amused by me. I’m horrified he could hear me in there yelling about his father. Everyone on the whole floor probably heard me then.

  I gulp like a cornered mouse, wondering why he’s here, and how he even knows where I live. The day at the funeral was the first and only time I’d ever seen him. It wasn’t like he was known to drop by our flat from time to time.

  “W-What are you doing here?” I stammer, completely taken aback.

  The man always seems to steal my voice. There’s something about him that leaves me speechless.

  “I was under the assumption I was rescuing a damsel in distress?” he says, looking me over with one elegant dark brow raised gracefully. I didn’t know a brow could even be graceful but somehow his is.

  As his gaze sears me, I’m silently thankful I’m wearing real clothes today—jeans and a gray sweater. I ran out of clean sweats and pajamas to wear.

  He’s dressed in a sharp navy suit with a pale blue button down shirt. His hair is combed back, except for one stray piece which refuses to be tamed, and it falls into his eyes. He pushes it back, his violet eyes boring into me like he’s seeing straight down into my soul.

  I wonder what he finds there.

  “I’m not a damsel,” I finally say, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Invite me in and we can discuss this matter further,” he says, challenging me. He smirks slightly knowing while I refute his claim he is, in fact, right.

  I am in need of saving.

  Desperately.

  But I don’t understand how he knows it or why he’d want to help me. I only just met him, and we barely had a conversation then. He doesn’t know me, so why would he want to help me?

  With a sigh, I step back, sweeping my arm to tell him to come in. What do I have to lose? As of tomorrow this place isn’t even mine.

  He ducks his head slightly in greeting and steps past me.

  He’s huge in my small apartment. He towers above me, making me feel impossibly small. He’s much taller and leaner than Dev, and I doubt those are the only differences between the brothers.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intimidated by him.

  In a way, he’s scarier than his father—harder to read. I always know what’s coming with Rajas, but with Siva … This man baffles me.

  He heads straight for the couch and takes a seat. I close the door and glance at him.

  “Can I get you something to eat or drink?” I ask, calling on the Southern hospitality my mother had drilled into me.

  “I don’t plan to be long,” says Siva, crossing his legs. He drapes an arm along the back of the
couch and sweeps his other toward an empty spot, urging me to sit.

  I take a seat, though I don’t like feeling like I was ordered to do so, and turn so I’m looking at him. “Why are you here?” I ask.

  “It recently came to my attention you are to lose this flat.” He looks around, taking the place in. Unlike his father, he doesn’t look at it with disdain, but a curiosity.

  My brows knit together. “How did you find that out? How did you even know I live here?”

  He waves his fingers dismissively. “I know things, Sloane.”

  Because that’s not cryptic.

  “What do you propose I do then? I’ve called every available flat or room for rent and they’ve all been taken.” I throw my hands up in the air in clear frustration.

  He stares at me for a moment, and I get the impression he’s sizing me up.

  “Live with me.” He drops the words like a bomb.

  Live with me. I repeat his words in my head. “What? You want me to move in with you?” I laugh, because it sounds like a joke. “I don’t even know you and you don’t know me. I could be a murderer for all you know,” I cry in indignation. “Hell, you could be. Maybe you’re going to stick me in a freezer and eat my frozen body parts.”

  Is this guy crazy? He has to be, right? It’s the only logical explanation.

  He looks down at his long elegant fingers—a pianist’s fingers, I think to myself.

  “I make it a habit to do whatever the fuck it takes to piss of my father—and he seems to loathe you, which means you can help me. Also, I’m not in the habit of eating the flesh of humans. I doubt they taste good anyway,” he jokes.

  “Help you?” I repeat. “How would my living with you, help you?”

  “It would piss my father off, which brings me immense joy. Also, as to your comment about you being a murderer, I highly doubt that. Besides, if you would try to kill me, I think I could easily overpower you.” His eyes rake over my small stature and I have no doubt he’s right. I shiver, goosebumps dotting my skin.

  “I’d be in your way,” I whisper.

  “No, you wouldn’t.” He shakes his head. “If you’d be in my way why would I offer you the use of my home?” he defends.

  “Touché.” I press my lips together, contemplating what he’s said. I’m about to be homeless in a matter of hours and he’s offering me a home. I don’t have much of a choice. “I’ll pay rent,” I tell him. I refuse to mooch off of him. He’s still practically a stranger, and even if he wasn’t it wouldn’t be okay.

  He chuckles, his violet eyes paling to a gray color. “That’s not necessary. I have money.”

  “Oh, of course,” I mutter.

  Rajas is some kind of real estate tycoon and I remember vaguely reading in a magazine somewhere Siva is one of the richest men in London.

  Apparently, business smarts run in the family.

  “I can’t live with you free of charge,” I say, and he shakes his head. “I refuse to be a burden,” I add. “I should go home,” I mutter. “I don’t belong here.”

  “And where is home?” he asks with a raised brow.

  “Georgia,” I answer.

  Siva stands suddenly and heads for my bedroom. I follow him, watching as he immediately begins opening drawers and dumping their contents into my suitcase, which he finds on the top shelf of the closet.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I cry, stunned.

  He pauses what he’s doing and looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Packing for you. I feared you’d be stubborn.” Stubborn is normally such a stiff word, but his British accent makes it sound delicious.

  “This isn’t necessary.” I glare at him. He might be nice to look at, but at the moment I don’t like him very much. He continues to pack my bags, ignoring me. “Okay, okay!” I finally cry, throwing my hands in the air. “I’ll go with you if you stop going through my stuff.” I snatch a lacy bra from his hands.

  He grins triumphantly.

  “This is only temporary, and because I’m desperate,” I add. “I’ll continue to look for a place and be out of your way in no time.”

  I can’t lie and say I’m not relieved to have a place to stay, because I am. Even if he is practically a stranger I’ll have a roof over my head and right now that means everything.

  His smile falls but he takes this victory. He looks down at me beneath thick dark lashes, his violet eyes intense, and murmurs, “I can be very convincing when I want something.”

  I swallow thickly, caught in the trap of his gaze. I manage to squeak, “I can too.”

  He smiles and I ease back.

  “You’ll come with me now. I’ll have your furniture put into storage today. I’m aware my father said if anything was left he would take it,” he says, looking around the bedroom. There’s not much in here, other than the headboard and dresser.

  I don’t asking him how he knows this, because frankly I don’t want to know. If I start digging too deep I’ll find a reason not to live with him, and right now my options are either to live with Siva or go back to the States. I’ll take living with him over going back and giving up on everything I’ve worked so hard for.

  “Thank you,” I say simply instead.

  Siva has saved my butt and he knows it. He grins, his teeth a pearly white against the caramel of his skin.

  “You’re welcome,” he says slowly, and I get the feeling he’s not used to being thanked.

  That makes me sad for some reason.

  I grin as something occurs to me.

  Siva notices and tilts his head, studying me. “What is it?”

  “I was wondering …” I pause, gathering my thoughts. “Can I leave a note for your father saying I’m with you? It’ll get under his skin and dig at him.” I grin, positively giddy at my thoughts. Rajas has been a thorn in my side from the moment I met Dev. I’ve tried so hard to impress him, and everything I’ve done has always fallen flat.

  Siva laughs, and it’s a warm, rich sound. It’s so at odds with his stiff posture and demeanor. “Certainly, I love any opportunity to spurn my father. Write your note and we’ll be on our way,” he says.

  I grab a piece of paper and a pen from the kitchen.

  Dear Mr. Kapur,

  Your son Siva has offered me a place to stay.

  He’s a very gracious man and most accommodating unlike yourself.

  Enjoy the tea cup.

  Sloane.

  Siva comes up behind me and reads what I wrote. He smirks and takes the pen.

  And Siva. He adds after my name. I smile at him.

  “That’ll drive him crazy,” Siva says with a laugh. Despite his easy personality, I’m sure something dark lingers behind his violet eyes. After all, he has to have some kind of demons to completely abandon his family.

  He turns to me with his brows knitted in puzzlement. “What’s with the tea cup?”

  I laugh, waving my hand through the air. “It’s childish, honestly. He drank from it the day he came to kick me out. I thought it was fitting.”

  Siva laughs and I soak in the sound. “We better go,” he finally says.

  “Five minutes?” I request, holding up five fingers. He nods and plops on the couch again, making himself at home.

  I disappear into my room and finish packing my bag. I look sadly around the bedroom and then the rest of the apartment. This has been mine and Dev’s home for so long now. I hate to leave but Rajas is giving me no choice and Siva is saving me from being homeless.

  Siva notices me and stands. “Ready?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I say reluctantly nodding. “I’m ready.”

  Siva notices my crestfallen faces and murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

  I look around once more, before saying a silent goodbye, and following Siva out the door and into an uncertain future.

  We step outside into drizzly rainy weather. It’s typical for London, so I don’t even bat an eye. I look for a taxi, assuming that’s what Siva arrived in, but instead he pushes a button and lights flash on
a shiny black Porsche Cayenne. I’m a little surprised. Dev didn’t have a car or even a license. I guess this is yet another thing the brothers don’t have in common.

  Siva begins loading my stuff into his trunk and I stand back watching him. “You really don’t have to do this. You’re being far too kind to me. But I want you to know that I do appreciate it. If it weren’t for your offer I’d be booking a plane ride home as a failure,” I say softly, stuffing my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. I feel so awkward standing here.

  His lips quirk as he closes the trunk. “Sloane, you could never be a failure. As for kindness …” His violet eyes darken and sear holes into my gold ones. “Get one thing straight. I am not a kind man. I’m a bad man. Just ask my pathetic father. Everything I do, I do for me.”

  Well okay then. Talk about a moody man. Is he always this hot and cold?

  The silence stretches on endlessly. Finally, Siva says, “I’m sorry. I—” he pauses at a loss for words. He tugs on his navy slacks and then rubs his hands through his slick black hair. “I like you … But I’m not good for you,” he whispers. “I’m not good for anyone.”

  My heart pangs with sympathy for him. He’s doing me a huge favor by letting me live with him and he still doesn’t see the good in himself for such a gesture.

  We get into the car and he pulls expertly out into the chaotic London traffic. We don’t speak on the ride, but luckily the silence isn’t too awkward. Twenty or so minutes later we pull into the garage of a sleek apartment building in the financial district.

  He parks the car in a reserved spot and gets out without a word, so I’m forced to follow. He grabs my suitcase from the trunk and I try to take it from him.

  “I’ll take that,” I say.

  He tightens his hold on it and pulls up on the handle. “I’ve got it.”

  “It’s mine. I can take it.”

  “And I said I’ve got it.”

  He proceeds to walk away and my jaw drops.

  I know he’s doing me a huge favor but who does this guy think he is?

  Inside the elevator he pushes the button for the top floor. The ride is long and quiet with neither of us saying a word. I sigh softly to myself. I don’t plan on living with him long, but if we never speak a word to each other it’ll feel a lot longer.