Page 92 of Tempting Miles
Why the hell did I agree to Easton’s cheap blackmail?
I’m fucking rich. I know how to invest. I can help Dad build another company from the ground up.
No, you can’t. And you know it.
LevineConstructions isn’t just a business toDad.It’s his legacy. Besides family, it’s the thing he’s most proud of. He built it with his own two hands, and he’d never recover from losing it. Especially not now that he’s sick.
My mind replays the moment I saw Dad’s medical documents. Tears stream down my face freely as the very real possibility of losing him crashes over me all over again.
Logically, I know everyone dies eventually. But I’ve never let myself think about losing Mami or Dad.
Until now.
I inhale deeply as I slowly make my way back to my desk. The second I sit down, I close my eyes and let my head fall against the back of the chair as exhaustion crashes into me.
When I open my eyes again, the first thing I see is the mason jar full of fresh roses.
Miles.
Everything with him has been going so well.
How am I supposed to tell him that whatever this thing between us has to end because I’m marrying another man?
A miserable groan escapes me.
He’s going to think I’m a hoe. Hell, I feel like one.
This is exactly why I don’t do feelings. I don’t want to hurt anyone—especially not Miles, who’s been nothing short of amazing to me since the day I got to Azalea Creek.
I take another shaky breath and try to pull myself together enough to stop crying when my phone suddenly vibrates against the desk.
Despite everything, a small smile tugs at my lips when I think of his last text message.
I read and re-read it.
I want to say yes. Fuck, yes. Let’s go have fun and forget the rest of the world exists for a little while.
But what if I keep falling for him?
Then again, Miles has been clear from the beginning: all the passion, none of the feelings.
One more weekend won’t hurt. After that, I’ll end things before this gets even messier.
Still, the truth stares me right in the face as I type my reply.
I’m not ready to let him go yet.
“Fuck it,” I say as I wipe my tears away and put on a little lipstick to perk up.
I might be signing my life away to Easton Ryan, but not today.
As I step out of my office pod, I can feel the tension hanging over the construction site.
A few workers glance at me before quickly looking away. Somewhere down the hall, I hear raised voices and the sound of something heavy hitting a wall.
I frown. Whatever happened must’ve been serious if the entire floor feels this oddly quiet afterward.
Dread curls low in my stomach.
