Tempted by Eden (Eden #1)

25. James

Chapter twenty-five

James

T he amber liquid swirls in my glass, catching the dim light of the living room as I tip it back and take another slow sip. The scotch burns down my throat, its heat a poor distraction for the tension clawing at the base of my skull. The alcohol is supposed to help, supposed to clear my head of Cora, but instead, it only sharpens the memories of her.

Her laugh. The flush that deepened in her cheeks when she smiled. How the sunset lit the flecks of honey in her eyes just before we…

Fuck.

I slam the glass down harder than I mean to, almost shattering the crystal. I run a hand down my face. It’s not supposed to feel like this.

She’s in my head. Even now, sitting alone at home on a Saturday night with half a bottle of scotch down, she’s everywhere. The memory of her lingers—her hair spilling over my pillow, the way her body felt under my hands.

She looked perfect in my home. Fucking perfect.

The thought makes my throat tighten. A relationship wasn’t part of the plan. Hell, none of this was. It was supposed to be casual. Simple. I wasn’t supposed to care this much.

I let out a deep breath and flip my wrist to check the time. Too late to join Dameon at Eden. Not that I need another reminder of her. Eden only brings her back into focus. I swipe my phone off the table, desperate for a distraction, and hit video call on the only person who knows how to pull me out of my head—Larissa.

The phone rings once, twice, before her face pops up on screen, framed by the chaos of her kitchen. My niece and nephew are running around in the background, a blur of pajamas and energy.

“Hey!” Larissa chirps, her warm smile instantly easing some of the pressure behind my tired eyes. “You look like hell. What’s going on?”

I let out a dry chuckle. “Thanks, Lars. You look… uh, busy.”

She rolls her eyes, throwing a thumb over her shoulder as Oliver and Emma wrestle near the fridge. “You have no idea. I can’t get these two to bed for the life of me. They’ve been bouncing off the walls all night.”

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full,” I say, rubbing my hand over my chin. “What’s their deal tonight?”

“Oliver’s been on this weird reptile kick. Keeps talking about snakes and spiders. You know how much I hate snakes.” She pulls a face, then yells over her shoulder, “Guys, seriously, I’m on the phone!”

I laugh, for real this time. “Want me to take him to the zoo again? He can terrorize me with snake facts instead.”

“God, yes. You’ll save me from another lecture about how ‘snakes are misunderstood.’” She mimics Oliver’s voice, and it makes me smile.

“Alright. I’ll take them soon. Promise.”

“Thank you, seriously.” She sighs, looking genuinely relieved. But then her smile falters as she studies me. “Wait, you called me. You okay? You look… off.”

I hesitate, running a hand through my hair. How the hell do I explain this? Without giving too much away?

“I’m fine,” I lie, the words coming out too quickly. “Just wanted to check in.”

Her eyes narrow. “Alright. But call me soon. We’ll figure out the zoo thing. And hey—don’t be a stranger.”

“Yeah. Sure. Tell the kids I’ll take them soon.”

“Will do. Alright, kids, say goodnight to Uncle James!”

“Night, Uncle James!” they call in unison, their voices a chaotic jumble that makes me grin, despite everything.

I hang up and exhale slowly, staring at the empty screen. For a moment, I’m steady. But it doesn’t last.

My phone buzzes with a message.

Dameon

Get down to Eden. NOW.

Cora's in Le Jardin tonight.

What. The. Fuck?

My blood goes cold, then hot in the span of a second.

Le Jardin?

What the fuck is she doing in Le Jardin?

Without thinking, I grab my keys and storm out of my villa, shooting off a quick response to Dameon.

On my way.

The engine roars to life, tires squealing as I speed out of the driveway. The city flies by in a blur of red lights and asphalt, each passing second feeding the fire burning in my veins. Every mile stretches endlessly, though I push harder on the accelerator, hardly noticing the speed.

By the time I skid into Eden’s underground garage, my blood pressure has hit a new high. I fling the car door open without a second thought, shoes pounding against the polished concrete as I race inside.

Dameon is leaning casually against a window in the foyer, his arms crossed.

“Where is she?” I demand.

“Jesus, would you calm down?” he hisses, glancing nervously at the security guards. “You’re going to get us kicked out.”

“Anyone who touches her, dies,” I growl, fists clenched tight. The possessiveness in my voice shocks me, but I don’t give a shit. She’s mine.

Dameon doesn’t flinch. Instead, he gives me a measured look. “You can’t go barging in there like a lunatic. You’ll blow everything. Just listen for once.”

I glare at him, my heart pounding against my ribcage. “You don’t understand—”

“I do.” Dameon cuts me off. “I’m registered for Le Jardin tonight. I’ll pick her.”

Does he have a death wish?

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Dameon . Picking Cora . Rage surges through me again, but before I can snap, Dameon steps closer, lowering his voice.

“Listen, I’ll pick her, then we’ll switch. No one else touches her. But if you blow up now, if you walk in there, guns blazing, you’ll ruin everything.”

I breathe hard through my nose, trying to rein in the storm building inside me. The thought of Dameon being the one to pick her, even if it’s just for show, twists something in me, but the logic is starting to sink in. Slowly I unclench my fists.

“Fine,” I bite out. “But this better work.”

“It will,” Dameon says evenly. “Wait here. I’ll come get you when it’s done.”

The minutes stretch on like hours. I pace the foyer like a caged animal, my heart beating a wild, erratic rhythm in my chest. Every second feels like an eternity. My phone and ID have already been handed over to security, so all I can do is wait, the walls of Eden closing in around me.

At last, Dameon emerges and slips me a key.

“Room six,” he says.

I snatch it from his hand without a word and head down the hallway, my breath coming hard and fast. By the time I reach the door, my pulse is a roar in my ears. My hand trembles as I turn the knob and push it open.

Cora is standing by the bed, her body half-lit by the soft light spilling across the room. She spins around, startled, when I enter.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

I don’t answer right away, my eyes dragging over her naked form, anger knotting together in my gut.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I snap.

Her eyes flash, and she grabs the sheet from the bed, wrapping it around herself. “I’m doing my job, James. What does it look like?”

“Not anymore, you’re not.” I take a step toward her, my jaw tight. “I forbid you from working here.”

Fire flashes in her eyes as she steps closer, her chin lifting. “You forbid me? What the hell gives you that right? You don’t own me.”

Her words hit hard, but the truth of them stings worse. My possessiveness is getting the best of me, but I can’t stop. I can’t let her slip out of my control, out of my life.

I close the distance between us until we’re chest to chest, our breath mingling in the charged air. “If this is about money, I’ll pay you whatever you need. You don’t need to fuck men for money.”

Her face hardens, hurt flickering behind her eyes before she blinks it away. “Don’t you dare judge me, you prick. You pay a ton of money for your membership here so you can fuck women. I’m here doing a job. Sex work is real work.” She pauses, her jaw tightening as she takes a breath. “And don’t be stupid. I’m not taking your damn money, James.” She rolls her eyes like it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s heard. I arch an eyebrow to remind her that she’s taken my money before. Without my consent. While I was asleep. She flushes and adds, “It’s not only about money. I’m not your property. I don’t belong to you.”

“The fuck you don’t,” I snarl, grabbing her wrist, pulling her closer until her breath is hot against my skin. We’re inches apart now, both of us trembling.

Her breath comes faster, her breasts rising and falling beneath the sheet, but she doesn’t back down. “You don’t get to control me.” Her voice is quieter now, but still defiant. “I make my own choices. You—you don’t get to just walk in here and decide what I can and can’t do.”

“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. This isn’t happening again.”

The tension between us is palpable, electric, and for a moment, neither of us moves.