Read Naughty Little Gift -- A Temptation Court Novella (Temptation Court, Book 1) for Free Online Page B

subject sound prettier, though the gritty reality remains. And the guilt. Always the guilt. While I hate their bald zeal on so many levels, I crave their parental pride and approval. My flirtations with Cassian did go too far—perhaps the “romantic” breach into my room was even his way of testing my character—making my overnight moping about it even more pathetic. And how many times have I replayed his kiss in my mind, shamelessly using it to keep myself awake, while my parents watched their plans vanish like a sandcastle under a wave?
    In Vy’s terms, I suck as a human being.
    In Brooke’s terms, maybe you’ve earned the suckage, girlfriend .
    Father gets up. Walks to his desk. Slumps into the chair behind it before drumming impatient fingers atop the unsigned contract in front of him. “He did not say much more than that,” he finally states. “‘Unable to commit.’ Those were his exact words. Then he said he would be ‘taking some matters into advisement’ and would ‘be in touch soon.’”
    Not much is different than the first twelve times he has told it—but this time, the words click differently. I jerk up my head to look directly at him—a penance I have avoided for the last six hours. Crazily—perhaps insanely—it drives words to my lips too.
    “‘Be in touch’,” I echo. “That is not a full no …right?”
    Father does not answer. His features are fixed, frozen and dispassionate, as Mother answers me instead—by digging a scalding grip into my ear. I gasp in place of a scream. The woman has perfected ear twisting to such an art, Saynt still bears a tear at the back of his lobe from the day he skipped school as a boy.
    “Stand. Up,” she seethes. “You know nothing of these matters, girl—and now you will admit that as you apologize to your father, who might be able to salvage the mess you have made of this.”
    A thousand needles stab the backs of my eyes. I grit them back while trying to nod, but her fingers feel sewn to my flesh. Her grip is unyielding. And maybe it is what I need. Maybe I am just a stupid girl, playing with fire much too golden, beautiful, and hot for me to ever handle safely. Maybe, Creator help us, my lustful idiocy has not torched everything they have worked for. Maybe Father can fix it…if I get out of his way. If I am humble and prove it by being truly sorry.
    It feels right, this simple acceptance of their truth…of my fate. Fighting it, doubting them…it has been exhilarating and exciting—and exhausting. Now a sad peace sets in, like a field mouse surrendering to a hawk’s grip, simply letting the end happen—
    Until Maimanne jerks to a stop.
    I save my ear by skidding short with her—or have my senses been my saviors, sizzling from the blast of new electricity on the air?
    Oh…my.
    Every neuron in my body is fried from it, letting the energy in—recognizing it at once.
    Knowing him at once.
    By the Creator.
    He has returned.
    But my joy is instantly shadowed—by mortification. Cassian Court has come back—to find me being led around by the ear, clad in nothing but my sleepwear. And there go any lingering thoughts for him, at least the good ones, about our passion last night…
    Though all I behold on his face right now is—
    Fury.
    Taut, defined, and clear, all across his perfect, noble features—
    And all directed at Mother.
    “Let her go.”
    I blink. Again. Yes, the words have emanated from him —inducing Maimanne ’s incredulous sputter. Then her forced, tinkling laugh. “Ahhh, Mr. Court! What a delightful surprise. Did you have to let yourself in? I apologize; good help is so hard to find on this tiny island, and we were not aware you would be—”
    “Mistress Santelle.” Every syllable is a scimitar, bleeding even her conjured civility from the air. “What wasn’t I clear about?”
    He steps over, readjusting a black messenger bag over his right shoulder, making me wonder if there’s a gun stowed inside. He looks like a man