Filthy Rich Temptation (Filthy Rich Billionaires #1)

Chapter 1

THEO

Something wakes me.

I’m not sure what.

I’m not sure I want to know.

It’s early. Too early. The kind of early only birds and bakers should see.

But now I’ve heard it, I can’t ignore it.

I roll onto my back and drag a hand down my face. How in the hell did it get to this? My life slowly being taken over by my best friend’s little sister, Sadie, and her hurricane of a three-year-old, Lottie.

One week. That’s all it’s been since they moved in. One!

And sure, I said they could stay for the summer. Long enough for Sadie to find her feet, get sorted, and move on. But now?

Now I’m not sure who’s going to surrender first – me, or them.

That’s if the tenants downstairs don’t file a noise complaint and force the issue first.

And I’m usually good at making decisions, sticking to them. But this one? This might be the one that breaks with tradition and breaks me in the process.

I stumble out of bed. Boxers. No shirt. Hair and glasses completely askew.

Dignity?

What’s that again?

All I want is coffee. Maybe survival after that.

I like my life neat. Orderly. Predictable.

The exact opposite of the scene I find unfolding in my open-plan living space.

I adjust my specs and squint against the sunrise spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Out there, London’s skyline is bathed in gold, the Thames glinting like something out of a film. Calm. Cinematic.

In here? Toddler-powered carnage. And a noise that keeps on giving: squeals, huffs, a ding-a-ling-ding from God knows what. Though I can’t see a soul – or a devil. Where on earth…?

I rake the hair from my eyes and pick my way through a graveyard of stuffed animals and plastic ponies, ignoring whatever’s been smeared on the wood in between and?—

‘Shit!’ A plastic truck spears my foot.

‘OhmiGod!’

Sadie’s head pops above the sofa, her blonde hair wild, her blue eyes wide as they lock onto mine. One second. Two. Then they shift south…

Naked chest.

Boxers.

Legs.

Boxers.

Boxers.

Boxers.

Her mouth parts in a soft, stunned oh , and every exhausted cell in my body sits up and pays attention. A memory from seven years ago launches into the present. Those lips. My mouth. Her tongue. My?—

Double shit .

Clothes , next time. Clothes!

I make a break for the kitchen, needing to put a counter between her and my misbehaving body stat, when a tiny, pink trainer sails past my face. It smacks the wall with a soft thud and lands in my untouched fern like a sad little flag of surrender.

My youngest new roomie appears alongside her mother in a riot of blonde curls, her suspiciously sticky hands shooting into the air as she lets out a victorious squeal.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Sadie says, clambering to her feet and hefting a nappy sack the size of an unexploded bomb into view. ‘She’s still adjusting.’

Adjusting? I scan the mountain of chaos that’s been building over the last week and shake my head. Penthouse Daycare, anyone?

And I thought living with my ex Katie was bad – she had more serums than a pharmacy, took over my closet one hanger at a time, and turned every room into a freaking candle orgy – but I’d take her measured madness over this trainer-flinging, couch-jumping dictator any day of the week. Probably. Maybe.

‘I thought you said a few things,’ I croak, stepping over a rogue juice carton as I make it to the kitchen unscathed- ish . ‘This is a full-scale invasion.’

She blows her hair off her flushed face, and I pretend not to notice the way her bottom lip juts out – full, thoughtless, stupidly inviting – or how her oversized sweatshirt slips off one creamy-white shoulder.

‘You said we could stay for the summer,’ she blurts, yanking my eyes back to hers. ‘You didn’t say anything about a baggage limit.’

I open my mouth, then close it again as Lottie clambers over my nubuck leather sofa with a delighted shriek, those suspiciously sticky hands everywhere all at once.

‘But if it’s a problem, we can find somewhere else,’ she says, tossing the bomb aside so she can snatch a psychedelic backpack from Lottie’s fresh grasp just before the kid can hurl it at the wall-mounted TV. ‘I told Taylor this was too much.’

Taylor’s her big sister – well, half-sister. Same shit dad, different mum.

Taylor’s also my best friend. Though the best-friend status might be coming under question. I’m not sure what’s worse: the whirling dervish of a child or the very unwelcome and entirely prohibited desire I have for her mother.

‘Too much?’ I repeat, trying to focus while in the background, Lottie giggles and bounces on my furniture like she’s auditioning for the toddler Olympics. ‘Not at all.’

I didn’t think having them move in would turn me into a liar too.

‘Look, I know it’s not easy having us around,’ she says, lifting Lottie into her arms and coming closer, ‘especially when you’re used to…’ She waves a weak hand around.

Peace. Tranquillity. Bachelorhood. All of the above.

‘It’s fine.’

She stares at me like she doesn’t believe me. Hell, I don’t believe me. But I’ve made my peace with the temporary situation. It’s bachelorhood out, toddler-geddon in. And I’m here for it. Honest.

It’s the least I can do for Taylor. The least I can do for Sadie too. After all the girl has endured at the hands of her no-good ex, she deserves a place to lie low and keep out of trouble. But who’s going to keep me out of trouble in return?

‘Is it safe to get coffee… or is today’s plan “death by flying rucksack”?’ I grin, making sure she knows I’m teasing.

She blinks, cheeks flaming, making the strip of freckles along the bridge of her nose stand out. Cute. And so not my thing. Meanwhile, my nose grows another inch. Bloody Pinocchio.

‘Coffee! Yes! Absolutely!’ Suddenly, she’s far more focused on adjusting the toddler trying to climb her like a deranged koala than on looking at me. ‘Very safe. No more projectiles. I don’t think.’

‘Great.’

She passes me a mug from an overhead cupboard – the glossy black door now sporting more fingerprints than a crime scene – and nods towards the pot. ‘There’s some ready for you. Extra strong, just how you like it.’

She sets Lottie down on a stool and moves to get the cereal next, rolling onto her toes to reach the top shelf, that damn sweatshirt lifting with her. The tiniest pair of shorts come into view, hugging the globes of her arse like a second skin, and my palms burn. Fuck.

Then I feel a very different kind of burn. The kind that comes from a pair of big, blue eyes at waist height, judging me. My eyes flit to Lottie – yeah, yeah, I know.

‘ Coffee ,’ I mutter, hurling myself at the machine and pouring a mugful. ‘You want a top up?’

‘No, I’m good, ta.’

I turn and lean back against the counter, take a grateful sip. Focus on the rich aroma, the satisfying taste… and not the way Sadie’s lips press together as her eyes linger on my chest instead of the cereal she’s supposed to be pouring.

Tiny wheat hoops make a break for it, scattering across the marble countertop much to Lottie’s high-pitched delight.

‘Messy mummy!’ she giggles, scoffing up the strays within reach.

And I give a soft laugh with her, because truth is, I’m getting a kick out of this mess too. Until I remember all the reasons why I shouldn’t.

She’s Taylor’s little sister. A woman who’s been through hell and back courtesy of a man. A woman who’s still going through hell because of him.

She needs stability and security. Not me, bloody well objectifying her.

One week. Has it really only been a week?

Because if the chaos doesn’t kill me, the temptation sure as hell might.

* * *

Sadie

I need to get a grip.

Like, immediately.

Because one more look at Theo Tanner – dark-blond hair a mess, semi-naked body a full-on study in temptation, coffee mug dwarfed by one big hand and those specs giving him a serious and oh-so sexy edge – and I’m going to do something monumentally stupid.

Something I swore I would never, ever do again.

Something that breaks the ultimate houseguest rule, and sets the worst possible example for Lottie.

But then…

I’ve been setting bad examples since the day she was born. Making bad decisions long before then too. It’s my forte. Why change now?

I shove some bread in the toaster – anything to keep my eyes off him – and take a breath. Remind myself that I’m trying to be better. That I want to be better.

For Lottie, as much as for myself.

‘Uncle Feo want some?’

From the corner of my eye, I spy her offer out a sticky palm full of cereal hoops and I wait for him to politely decline.

This is Theo, after all. Billionaire bachelor Theo.

He may have grown up above the corner chippy, feasting off scraps, but these days, he’s all about the cold-pressed juice and the caviar. I’m exaggerating, of course… I think.

Instead, he steps forward, his heady scent drifting towards me as he selects one hoop. ‘Don’t mind if I do.’

He pops it in his mouth and mine hangs open, his exaggerated chew-turned-hum reverberating through my over-sensitised body. Did he just… is he just…?

‘Mmm, that’s good.’

I think my ovaries just imploded.

Watching the man drink his coffee half-naked is hard enough. Watching him humour my daughter and share her cereal like it’s the best part of his morning… It’s not just my libido waking up, it’s my heart too.

He flicks me a conspiratorial wink before going back in for another and I’m just as spellbound as Lottie.

I swear he doesn’t even notice the way he looks, which only makes it worse.

Cocky-hot is one thing. Oblivious-hot is a whole new level of dangerous.

And he’s been like this for as long as I can remember. Hot. Unattainable. Taylor’s best friend, which means I’ve been relegated to ‘baby sister’ since forever… the hanger-on, the one you put up with but don’t really notice. Though I forced him to notice me – really notice me – seven years ago.

The most embarrassing moment of my life…