My Temptation (Kingston Lane #1) Read Online T.L. Swan

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors: Series: Kingston Lane Series by T.L. Swan
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Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
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“You really think he would cheat on you?”

“He cheated once in college.”

I frown.

“He was drunk, and we were doing the long-distance thing, but he called me distraught half an hour after it happened, crying his eyes out, racked with guilt. He’s not the lying type. At least I don’t think.”

“Is this yours?” Chloe pulls out a small pink bulldog clip from under the seat.

Rebecca stares at it in Chloe’s hand. “No. It’s not.”

I put my hands over my mouth in horror. “Fuck.”

“Men are such fucking idiots,” Chloe whispers angrily.

“Get out. We’ll talk about it out there in case he gets home,” Rebecca whispers. “I don’t want him to know I’m onto him.”

We climb out of the car and close the door, and we walk back into the house. “Who wants wine?” Rebecca fumes.

“Yeah, sure,” Chloe and I reply, both scared for our lives.

This is so weird, sharing something so personal with someone we hardly know.

Rebecca pours three glasses of wine and heads out to the back garden. There’s a beautiful pool area with a cabana, and she leads us down there. We sit at a table.

“Have you had any inkling that something was off?” I ask.

She twists her lips. “Our sex life has been nearly nonexistent, but he’s been working so much that he’s been tired.”

“But has he really been working?” Chloe whispers. “I mean . . .” She shrugs.

“Who fucking knows.” Rebecca puts her hand over her forehead. “I can’t believe it.”

“Look, it may not even be what we’re assuming. It could be completely innocent,” I try to reassure her. “Innocent until proven guilty, right?”

“How could this be innocent?” she huffs. She drains her glass and fills it again.

“I don’t know.” I try to think of a logical explanation. “Have you ever parked this car in valet parking?” I ask.

“All the time.”

“How do you know that one of the parking attendants hasn’t been getting busy with a waitress in your car?”

Rebecca stares at me.

“Or the car wash?” I shrug. “Or the mechanic. The mechanic may have fucked his receptionist in the back seat of the car just today.”

Chloe twists her lips. “Maybe.”

“I don’t know, but don’t just assume the worst until we have proof.”

“Oh, get off it,” Chloe snaps. “Coming from you, that’s a joke. Why don’t you give Henley the same forgiveness?”

“Henley?” Rebecca frowns as she looks between us. “You’re on with Henley?”

My eyes widen at Chloe. You did not just say that.

“I mean . . . what I was saying . . .” Chloe trips over her words as she tries to cover up her mistake.

“Chloe,” I snap. It’s too late now. “I went on a date with Henley a few years ago, and I didn’t know he lived here when I bought the house.”

Rebecca’s eyes widen. “What happened?”

“We had the best night ever, and then he ghosted me with his burner phone.”

Her eyes widen as she puts the pieces together. “Oh . . . fuck, that means . . . he liked you.”

“And now Taryn is out there rubbing her big boobs all over him, and I’m totally screwed because I still think he’s gorgeous when, in fact, he is actually a fucking asshole.”

She rolls her eyes into her drink. “Amen.”

“Listen, on to more important things,” Chloe interrupts. “Can someone just think of a plan to make Blake Grayson fall in love with me? I cannot date one more mediocre man.”

We all fall silent, lost in our own thoughts as we drink our wine.

“What are you going to do?” I eventually ask Rebecca.

“Keep my eyes and ears open, I guess. If something is going on, he’ll catch himself out. They always do.”

I put my hand over hers. “I’m sorry.”

She exhales. “Not as sorry as he’s going to be if I find something out.”

“I’m choosing to think innocent until proven guilty.” I smile hopefully.

She squeezes my hand. “Let’s hope.”

I look at my reflection in the mirror. “How much is it?” I pray as I wait for her reply.

“Four hundred and twenty.”

Fuck.

I puff air into my cheeks. I’m trying on formal gowns in a boutique. This one is a deep red; the top is like a corset with boning and the bottom a flowing skirt.

It is sensational.

“What look are you going for?” the shop assistant asks.

“I want to knock someone’s socks off.”

She smiles as she looks me up and down. “Then you have to buy this one.”

“I didn’t want to spend this much money.”

“You can’t fake quality, dear. You’ll have this for years. It’s timeless.”

“True.”

“And this may be the only chance you get to knock him dead.”

“Also true.”

“And if you wear something else, are you going to be kicking yourself that you didn’t buy this one?”

“Probably.”

She shrugs. “I think you’ve answered all your own questions.”

Damn it. Why did I come into this shop when I knew it had over-the-top prices?


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