The Temptation (Filthy Rich Americans 5)

When I’d put Emery’s overnight bag in my room earlier, I’d texted Elliot the go-ahead, and now I surveyed his execution of my instructions. I’d told him I planned to stargaze with Emery at the center of the maze, and he’d taken my directions and improved upon them. Was it possible he’d done this more for her than for me? Elliot was always quick to smile when she was around. She’d charmed him completely.

He’d probably enlisted the help of one of the groundskeepers to get the thick mattress off the double lounger on the patio and bring it in here. The bed rested on the pebbled ground off to the side of the fountain. It was lit by the landscape lighting, but several flameless candles surrounded it, flickering in the night.

Her gaze moved from the fountain to the picnic basket beside the mattress and the two overturned champagne flutes resting on top of its lid, waiting to be used. The space was incredibly romantic, and maybe a bit overboard, but Emery’s breathless reaction caused satisfaction to roll through me.

“I thought we could watch the stars.” My statement came out in an uneven voice, and I cleared my throat, trying to shake loose the nerves that had come out of nowhere. This would be our first time together, but not my first time ever.

So, why the hell did it feel that way?

“The Perseids meteor shower started tonight,” I added.

She nodded and stared at the bed, and whatever nerves I had, the same ones seemed to be getting to her too. But that made it easier, because now I could push my anxiety away and focus on making her comfortable.

I strolled to the picnic basket, grabbed the stems of the glass flutes between the fingers of one hand, and lifted the lid to reveal the bottle of Dom Pérignon that was perched in a bucket of ice. Beside it was a box of chocolate covered strawberries.

Really, Elliot?

Did he think I was going to propose? The champagne had been the only thing I’d asked for.

“What’s up?” she asked. “You’re making a weird face.”

“Nothing.” I grabbed the bottle by the neck, pulled it out, and closed the lid. “Want a drink?”

She eyed the dripping bottle. “Champagne, huh? Are we celebrating the loss of your second virginity?”

I laughed and set the glasses down so I could work on peeling off the foil and cage around the cork. “Maybe.”

She sat down on the edge of the mattress and undid the ankle straps of her shoes, and once I had the cork popped and the glasses poured, I joined her.

“To midnight,” she said as a toast, clinking the edge of her flute against mine with a soft ting.

We took our sips and set the glasses down, then stretched out side by side on the bed, staring up at the sky dotted with stars. I used the app on my phone to turn off the landscape lights, plunging us into darkness except for the wavering candles.

The house loomed nearby, and I was glad Royce and Marist had redecorated and moved into the master bedroom once my father had left. It would be unlikely anyone would see us out here in the near dark, but his old room had a perfect view of the maze, and the bubbling fountain at its center.

I wanted Emery and this night all to myself.

She didn’t know constellations, and I was pretty rusty myself since all the sailing navigation I did relied entirely on instruments. Instead, we made up our own pictures in the stars, and she groaned when I kept pointing out the ones I found that looked like penises.

Emery was the first of us to see a shooting star, and when she gloated about it, I told her it wasn’t a competition—although it totally was. She said she didn’t believe in making wishes, but I suspected she had made one and didn’t want to say for fear of it not coming true. Her wish had probably been about Lambert’s safe, but I selfishly hoped not.

I wanted it to be about me.

As time ticked by, we both grew more anxious. We’d spent months waiting for this, building it up, and now that it was almost here, the pressure tried to surpass our desire. But I wouldn’t let it. I propped myself up on an elbow, brushed my fingertips over her cheek, and lowered my mouth to hers.

She warmed to my kiss instantly, and something like a sigh of relief slipped out of her. As if she had been waiting on pins and needles for me, and now that we were connected, she could finally breath again. Thoughts swam in my head, competing with each other. I’d planned the evening, scripting how I wanted it to go. But now a million different ideas descended on me, all clamoring for attention, and I had no fucking clue which one to do first.