The Temptation (Filthy Rich Americans 5)

Did she understand what I meant? If she wouldn’t come clean to me now—if she hoped any other explosive secrets she had could stay hidden—I had no shot at trusting her.

She considered her answer carefully. “I changed my last name, legally, about eight years ago.”

“Why?”

“A lot of reasons. To stay off Lambert’s radar. My record. My dad’s record. I mean, that shit doesn’t magically disappear, but a name change helps bury search results.” She crossed her arms over her chest, but it didn’t look confrontational. If anything, she’d done it to try to protect herself. “I took my mom’s maiden name after she passed away.”

“Anything else?”

She wasn’t happy I was about to dig into her life, but rather than argue or get up and leave, she sat back against the couch like she was getting comfortable. “Nothing I can think of.”

Since her posture and attitude challenged me, it left me with no choice but to flip open the folder with a quiet thud. I felt her gaze needling into me as I pulled out the stack of papers and evaluated the collection of printouts and photos.

On top was the normal stuff. There was a copy of her driver’s license and passport. Her credit score, previous addresses, and work history. She’d continued her education post high school at a community college but hadn’t earned a degree. While she had some social media accounts, she wasn’t active on any of them.

Her criminal report only listed the single count of petty larceny. Although she’d been charged as an adult, I suspected the fact she was sixteen at the time had helped her with the plea bargain. She’d paid a fine and done community service, which prevented her from serving any jail time.

There was a background summary report on her parents, focused primarily on her father, that I skimmed quickly. At the bottom of the stack, there were a few brief news articles about how she’d won the Vegas Vault safecracking contest the last two years. I paused, lingering over the picture of her holding up the award plaque, grinning as she stood under the contest’s banner.

What had my father, who always loved a winner, thought about that?

I racked the papers and tucked them back into the portfolio, feeling an even mixture of relief and sadness. She’d been truthful, and there didn’t appear to be any other bombshells in her past. But I felt for the woman who’d had so much struggle in her life, and I was stunned at how well she hid it.

Like the universe could throw anything at her and she’d survive it.

Her tone was biting, probably overcompensating to hide the truth in her question. “Did I pass your test?”

I didn’t answer her. Instead, I pulled out my phone and began to type.

Her annoyance and concern grew, making her launch forward, back to the edge of her seat. “What are you doing?”

“Sending my father an email, asking him to delete any files he has about you.” I tapped the ‘send’ button, set my phone down on the table, and pushed the portfolio toward her. “This is yours. There’s a paper shredder in the office downstairs if you’d like to use it when we’re done here.”

Emery’s mouth dropped open, and she blinked, too stunned to move otherwise.

“Yes,” I added. “You passed the test. Now let’s see if I can pass yours.”

“Um . . . what?”

I shifted in my chair. Shit, I was already uncomfortable, and I hadn’t even started talking yet. I cleared my throat, which might have been a subconscious stall tactic.

“Trust is a two-way street,” I said finally. “You told me why you want to get inside Wayne’s safe, so I’m going to tell you why I need that to happen, too.” I hooked a finger under the collar of my shirt to loosen the constricting knot of my tie. “A seat on HBHC’s board of directors might become available soon, and he wants it. He expects me to help him with that, and if I don’t, he’s made it clear I’ll regret it.”

Her eyes went wide. “He’s blackmailing you?” When I nodded, her voice turned gentle. “With what?”

“I suspect he has compromising photos or video of my late stepmother.”

“Like, a sex tape?”

My pulse sped up a notch. “Yes.”

Confusion made her gaze fall from mine. “Not to be heartless, but why would that matter to you? Didn’t she—”

“Because I’m on the video too.”

My confession dropped like an anchor, stopping us both in place. Her surprised expression froze, hiding whatever she really thought about this revelation. It made her unreadable, which I couldn’t tell if that was better than seeing disgust.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered. “You and your stepmom . . .”

“Yes.”

Emery looked utterly lost on what to say next. “Well,” she couldn’t find any other words, “shit.”

The need to explain myself was strong and urgent. “It’s complicated, but the short version is I was young, Emery. Young, and very fucking stupid.” I swallowed a breath. “I’m not proud of what we did, and especially that we both did it to hurt my father.”