Tempting The CEO

1. "I'm not exactly a stranger to this house."

The private jet touched down with a soft jolt, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

After five years in New York—five years of building, fighting, and clawing my way through the corporate jungle, preparing myself to be the best version of myself—it was finally time.

Time to come home. Time to take over what was rightfully mine.

The A&S Empire.

As I stepped down from the jet, golden rays of sunlight and a familiar warmth greeted me. The breeze was soft, gentle, reminiscent. There was something so comforting and natural about the place you were born in. I had been gone only five years, and it felt like an eternity.

It truly felt good to be back home.

A black SUV awaited me, and I slid into the backseat, ignoring the driver's polite greeting. My luggage was pulled into the trunk.

I had only one thing on my mind: me taking over the company as CEO the very next day.

If only tomorrow could come any sooner.

This wasn't just a legacy thing for me. It wasn't just a prize passed down from my father to me. I had worked my ass off to be capable enough to carry the weight of this empire on my shoulders.

The ride home was long. As the gates swung open, I caught the first glimpse of the house I'd grown up in—the sprawling Ashford estate, all white stone and endless windows, perched atop the cliffs like it owned the damn world.

Just like an Ashford should.

My heart seemed to speed up as I walked up the familiar front steps and stepped into the house. I'd barely had a chance to exhale when a woman threw herself into my arms.

"Zayden!" My mother squealed excitedly, squeezing my upper body between her small arms.

"Hi, mom." I gave her a pat on the back.

I didn't find it too plausible. To be so overcome with glee at the sight of your fully gown 29 year old son. I guess it was a mother thing.

"My son," she grinned, pulling back to give me a good look. "I'm so happy you're back. Come. Your father's waiting."

My lips lifted up into a smile at her contagious excitement.

She practically dragged me through the house.

It was the same, yet not. Subtle changes everywhere—a new chandelier, fresh paint, a ridiculous amount of flowers.

We entered the living room where my father was waiting, his posture as rigid as ever, a glass of bourbon in his hand. His face broke into a smile that was almost foreign for him.

"Zayden." He spoke fondly, standing to greet me.

"Dad." I gave him a small smile.

His smile grew. "I'm very proud of all the work you've put in." He said, giving me a pat on the shoulder.

Pride from my father was rare, so I soaked it in.

My parents then led me down the hall towards the dining room, eager to eat at the same table as me and to catch up on everything they had missed. Halfway there, a sharp click of heels on the polished marble floor echoed through the silence of the mansion.

It caused me to halt abruptly and look towards the staircase, where the sound had come from.

A girl descended down the stairs, one hand trailing lightly along the banister. The late afternoon sunlight poured through the massive windows behind her, casting her in a soft, golden halo.

My eyes locked on her—long legs bare beneath a short, silky dress that clung to her curves like it had been custom-made for her.

Her hair, dark brown, tumbled down her back in effortless waves.

And that face—so innocent yet so alluring, high cheekbones, full lips, those big, dark eyes framed by lashes thick enough to knock a man out cold.

Something primal stirred inside me, fast and uninvited.

She moved with confidence and grace, like she belonged here. Like she owned the goddamn place.

I didn't recognize her.

I couldn't.

Because if I had ever seen her before, I sure as hell wouldn't have forgotten.

She reached the bottom step, pausing when she spotted me. Her lips parted slightly, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing her features before she masked it with a polite smile.

I stared, my brain scrambling for a name or anything that could explain who she was and why she was in my house.

Before I could demand answers, my mother's voice cut through the dead silence.

"Zayden," she said warmly, oblivious to the storm brewing under my skin... and inside my pants, "you remember Aurelia, don't you?"

I blinked.

What?

Wait... you have got to be fucking kidding me.

Aurelia Sinclair.

The shy little girl who used to hide behind her father's legs at company galas.

She was the most timid, awkward and frustratingly introverted little girl I had ever met.

Since our fathers were business partners—they pretty much started the empire together from scratch—Aurelia and I ran into each other a lot in our childhood.

She used to be so unconfident and quiet, you'd think she were mute.

And look at her now.

Standing all tall and confident, directly meeting my eyes with a gaze so fierce, and looking like that.

There was no way this stunning girl before me was the same Aurelia.

Maybe Mr. Sinclair gave up the real one for adoption and got a prettier girl to raise as a daughter instead.

Can you not, Zayden?

The last time I had seen her was probably when she was ten or maybe twelve or... I don't fucking know. I don't remember.

"Hi, Zayden." Her smooth, luscious voice dragged me out of my thoughts.

I instantly masked my emotions, my tone sharp and cold as I responded. "Hi... Mom didn't mention you'd be here." I spoke tightly, my eyes still unwilling to leave her.

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not exactly a stranger to this house. I've been coming here for years."

"Good to see you." I replied curtly, my tone one of disinterest.

She nodded, her lips curling into a small, self-assured smile. "Likewise."

I couldn't look away. And that was exactly the problem.

The dining room hadn't changed.

Same twelve-seater mahogany table. Same pretentious chandelier hanging overhead like it belonged in a royal palace. Same floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the gardens my mother loved to bits.

But something was different.

Because now, across from me, sat Aurelia Sinclair in that silky little dress, legs crossed, a glass of juice in hand, comfortably laughing at something my father said like she was part of the family.

I stabbed into my steak, somewhat annoyed by her presence. I told myself not to look again, but I failed.

The girl who was once practically invisible, her presence now demanded unwavering attention.

The way she twirled the glass between her fingers, the curve of her smile, the happy glint in her eyes and the way she barely looked my way even once since we had sat down to eat—all of it pinched at my nerves. Irritating and frustrating me.

"So," my mother said, breaking into my spiraling thoughts, "we're just thrilled that Aurelia's staying with us for the next few months while her parents are abroad. It's been so nice having her around. She brings so much energy and vibrance to the house."

I nearly choked on my drink.

She was staying at our place? For months? What the hell?

My grip on the fork in my hand grew tighter, but I kept my tone smooth. "Oh? That's... news."

Aurelia smiled sweetly, finally looking at me, resting her chin in her hand. "Didn't your mom tell you? I thought you knew."

I gave her a tight smile. "Guess I missed the memo."

My mother waved a dismissive hand. "It all happened so fast. Her parents had to leave for Tokyo, and she was practically raised in this house. She's like family, Zayden."

I glanced at Aurelia.

Family? This girl? Right.

Nothing about the way she was looking at me felt remotely familial.

My father cleared his throat. "You'll barely notice her. I'm sure you'll both be too busy anyway—Aurelia's got her own projects, and you'll be buried in work with the company."

This little five foot something diva had projects?

What exactly did she do?

Aurelia reached for the salad, and my gaze—my damned, traitorous gaze—dropped to the smooth line of her throat, the slope of her collarbone, down to her cleavage peeking through her dress.

I quickly looked away, reminding myself how inappropriate this was.

This girl needs to leave. ASAP.