Sinful Seduction (Baby Confessions #6)

Chapter 1

Gabriella

I peeked my head to the right to see how much longer the line ahead of me was.

All I saw was a sea of suits. Black, navy, charcoal gray.

A pattern of dull colors leading to my morning salvation.

The smell of coffee beans wafted toward me and I breathed in deep, hoping that breathing it in would somehow work the same as drinking it.

I breathed out, knowing it was a fruitless effort.

I took one small step forward, tapping my foot impatiently against the light wood flooring of the coffee shop.

This was just the pickup line. To the left of me was even worse.

The order line. The line of people weaved through the circular tables and woven chairs, stopping just at the door to the sidewalk bustling with early morning commuters.

I was glad I thought ahead, placing my order on my phone on the walk here.

It wasn’t like I even needed the caffeine. I was buzzing without it, but my morning iced coffee was a ritual I didn’t skip. Even on a day like this. A day that I had been waiting for.

The thought of what today held sent a thrill through me, running up my spine like a xylophone mallet moving to the highest key.

I bit back a smile and shook my head as I looked down at my feet that were wedged into my favorite pair of heels.

Black patent leather pumps with a slight point at the toe.

They were just on the cusp of toe-numbing, but I ignored the slight pain because they looked so good.

I needed to look good today. I needed to look the part.

“Next,” the barista called out.

I looked up and realized I was next. I took a small step forward, but stopped when someone brushed past, stepping in front of me.

I smelled him before I saw him. A woodsy scent, with a slight hint of sea air.

The heavenly aroma settled comfortably around me as my eyes followed where it was coming from.

They landed on a man towering over most everyone in here, dressed in a twill gray suit that was cut to hug every line of his solid frame, who now stood at the counter in front of me.

Blinking away the distraction of how good his backside looked, I jerked my chin back at what had just happened.

Did he really just do that? Did he really just cut me in line? And everyone else?

“A double espresso on ice with a splash of cream,” he said, his voice deep. Not only had he just cut me, and everyone else in this line, but to make it worse, he was also in the wrong line.

My mouth opened as if I was about to say something.

But I didn’t. No one said a word. Not even the noticeably flustered barista taking his order.

I wasn’t sure if it was because he had probably just pissed off a lot of people, or if it was because he looked as good from the front as he did the back.

He slid his black matte Mastercard across the glossy counter.

“I’m sorry, sir. My machine isn’t working all of a sudden,” the young barista said, her eyes filled with dread as they looked up at the man.

“Of course it’s not,” I whispered to myself, my annoyance beginning to creep in.

I watched as the man waved her off like it was no big deal, trying not to pay much mind to just how long and slender his fingers were. Was I really getting caught up in a man who I had only seen his backside? Let alone, a line-cutter.

I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he hadn’t seen us all standing here waiting.

Ha. Here I was, making excuses for him just because he smelled so damn good. And wore a suit that put everyone else in here to shame.

But really. It was like it was molded to his broad shoulders. My eyes ran over his upper back and lower…

Seriously. Molded.

“I’ll just restart it,” said the barista, quickly jabbing at buttons with her chipped black polished fingernails. I heard other patrons groan their annoyances behind me.

The man nodded and slowly turned to lean with his back against the counter, not caring that he was facing a line of ticked-off customers. I sucked in a breath as his face practically smacked into my eyes. Chiseled jaw. Clean shaven. Jet-black hair. Eyes the color of tumbled beach glass.

I suddenly was no longer mad. No longer annoyed. No longer thinking about anything else but the set of lips pressed into an easy smile.

He reached into his jacket pocket, his platinum Rolex reflecting off the pendant lights hanging above him, as if he needed any more emphasis than the spotlight that probably already following him around in his everyday life.

I watched as his thumbs moved across the screen easily, his eyes following the words he typed out.

I found myself wanting to know what was on his screen. Work? Girlfriend? His mom?

He clicked the side button and slid his phone back into his jacket pocket.

He slowly looked up and his eyes met mine.

Sharp and green, and boring right into me like he could read the thoughts that suddenly heated my cheeks.

It felt like someone had just sucker-punched me below the ribs.

I quickly looked away, my heart hammering in my chest as I reminded myself to breathe.

Get it together.

My phone buzzed in my purse just then, pulling me out of my head and the millisecond of a moment I was just lost in. I reached into my black leather bag that hung low on my shoulder, happy for a distraction from the distraction standing in front of me, and pulled out my phone.

Dad.

Not exactly who I wanted to talk to when there was a creeping sensation running up my inner thighs, heating the space between them. I quickly clamped my thighs shut and willed the feeling away before tapping the screen.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, trying to bring my voice down a pitch as I tried to ignore the feeling that those green eyes were still on me.

“Where are you?” he asked without so much as a hello.

I rolled my eyes, pulling the phone from my ear to see the time.

I wasn’t even supposed to be in the office for another hour, and even then, I would still be early.

I had to be. I had the biggest meeting of my life today.

My father knew that. Hell, he was the one who called for the meeting.

He should know better than to think I would drop the ball.

“Are you on your way to the office?” he asked, not waiting for my reply as I brought my phone back to my ear.

“I’m just in line at the coffee shop, and then coming right there.”

He harumphed on the other line. So impatient.

“I have one for you, too…” I said, trying to smooth out whatever kink I had already caused him at 7:30 in the morning.

“That’s my girl.” I could hear his growing smile through the phone. “I’ll see you soon,” he said in a sing-song voice before hanging up. The same kind of voice he had been using the past few weeks, like he was up to something. Nervous even. That wasn’t like my father.

I felt a flutter of excitement grow in the pit of my stomach.

Today was definitely the day.

The day that Harold Enterprises, my father’s prized possession, was mine.

He was handing me the reins he had promised me all those years ago.

Reins I wasn’t sure I wanted then. I had been ten at the time, and totally unimpressed by the empire my father had built when he brought me in for some Bring Your Kid to Work Day.

It wasn’t that I was blind to our wealth.

Hell, I lived in the mansion in the South End of Boston with the ivy growing over the stone pillars leading up to my bedroom on the expansive second floor.

I sometimes helped our private chef in the kitchen by peeling carrots or whatever harmless cooking task he gave me.

I hid in closets and scared our various housekeepers as they tidied up my toys scattered through the house.

I just wasn’t interested in what it took to get those things.

I wanted to be an artist one day. An astronaut the next.

Running a tech company wasn’t exactly exciting to ten-year-old me.

Hell, to twenty-one-year-old me. I had gone to school for business, with no idea on how to wield it, but did it because it seemed like a safe bet.

After I graduated, and after many attempts by my father to recruit me, I finally accepted his offer to work for him. I knew it meant a lot to him. He reminded me that it meant starting at the bottom like everyone else and working my way up. I didn’t want it any other way.

What I didn’t realize was how quickly I would fall in love with the job. The company. The people.

After six years, I was running the Boston offices.

And it wasn’t because I didn’t earn it. I busted my ass for it.

I put everything in my life on hold. Relationships.

Vacations. Certain friendships. Even myself at times.

Despite all this, I knew what some people said.

That I was a nepo baby who only got where I was because I was the daughter of Penn Howard.

I was sure it would be no different when my father made his big announcement today, but I was set to prove them wrong.

“Next,” called out the barista.

I looked up, as if suddenly remembering where I was.

The counter was empty and mine for the taking.

There was no sight of the ridiculously handsome man who I had temporarily forgotten about.

I internally shrugged it off, knowing nothing would have come of it anyway. He was just so pretty to look at.

Really pretty to look at.

I walked up to the counter. “Order for Gabriella,” I said.

The barista looked down the row of drinks to her left and plucked two iced coffees from the counter, leaving two rings of condensation behind.

“Here you go,” she said, handing them over.

One black. One a creamy caramel color. Perfect.

“Thank you,” I said, tossing a few bucks into the glass tip jar.

I turned and head for the door, careful not to bump into anyone as I weaved my way through the line that seemed to have doubled in size.

There was a reason this place was packed.

They had the best coffee in New York. I slid in between two men immersed in conversation about stocks and reached the door.

With no hands free, I turned my back toward the glass and gave it a push.

I backed out onto the sidewalk, the humid summer air swarming me and quick to dampen my skin.

I internally groaned at the feeling as I turned, colliding with something solid.

I let out a little gasp as the clear coffee cups slammed into the well-fitted gray twill suit in front of me, their lids popping off as coffee and sloshing ice poured out.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” a gruff voice asked loudly, followed by a few more vulgar words.

As coffee trickled down my chest, the smell of coffee was interrupted by a familiar smell.

I looked up in horror to see the string of cuss words were coming from that perfect pair of lips I was staring at earlier.

I was face to face with Mr. Rolex. And I had just spilled coffee over his very expensive suit.