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Tempting Navid
Tempting Navid Read online
Tempting Navid
The Hawke Fortune
Victoria Pinder
Contents
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Series information
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Also by Victoria Pinder
About the Author
Tempting Navid © 2018 Victoria Pinder
* * *
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemble to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.
Published in the United States of America.
Copyright © 2018 Victoria Pinder Love in a Book
All rights reserved.
Created with Vellum
This book is dedicated to my husband who I harassed writing this book with questions, from names to culture. And while he’s definitely not the billionaire with a bad boy past like my character (he’s in truth the opposite), it was fun for once to tell him how this story was progressing.
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The Hawke Fortune
Tempting Gabe
Tempting James
Tempting Conner
Tempting Harry
Tempting Navid
Elle Bentley lugged her two suitcases down the cement sidewalk in front of the JW Hotel. The hotel manager had pounded on her door this morning, holding her invoice for the hotel room circled in red, and said her credit card had been revoked. She didn’t have any cash, the banks had frozen her accounts, and she’d been escorted out of the hotel room like a criminal. The unpleasant woman told her she had to leave and not come back which meant Elle she was truly stuck.
The butterfly pendant her mother had given her for her sixteenth birthday banged against her collarbone with each forceful step, and Elle realized that this was now her only real jewelry. The police had seized everything else. They’d come to the house she shared with her family late when she was at a banquet in an afternoon and when she returned home, the police had given her ten minutes to pack a bag—which they’d checked—before locking her out.
She held her head high and continued walking, though the wheels of the bag bounced and dragged against the sidewalk while her skin soaked her pale blue blouse with sweat. It was almost noon in Miami and the heat was unbearable.
However, cabs weren’t allowed on Star Island, only residents and their guests could drive the landscaped and luxurious streets. So, Elle had to walk past the gatehouse in her ruined Louboutin heels which now qualified as her former best pair of shoes.
This was the first time in her life she’d ever been broke and she didn’t like the feeling at all. If she didn’t get this job, she had no place to sleep tonight. She pulled up the address on her phone which matched the house she now stood in front of—the sprawling mansion had to be 20,000 square feet, and overlooked the Intracoastal. The red tile of the driveway was lined on both sides with palm trees. This had to be it.
Scarlett Hawke, an old friend, had suggested her half-brother's need for a nanny as a temporary solution to Elle’s troubles. Last week Elle had assumed she’d figure it out on her own, but after this morning, she dropped her pride and was now here for an interview.
Elle steeled her spine and opened the front gate, balancing her suitcases. Drive-by security hadn't kicked her out so she walked past the driveway large enough for a hundred cars and made it to the front door where she stared into the obvious camera. Her pulse quickened but she rang the doorbell.
A few seconds later an older lady in a gray uniform answered and peered down her nose at Elle. "Who may I say is calling?"
Great. This woman probably ran the household and from Elle's experience if the maid didn't like a guest, trouble ensued. Her stomach knotted. She was no longer in a position to run staff, so she needed to drop the princess act. She lowered her chin. "I'm Elle Bentley. I'm here about the nanny position."
"Servants use the side entrance." The woman spoke with her head high, looking over Elle’s shoulder at the two suitcases on the bottom step.
Elle stepped back. "I’m sorry."
The woman’s gaze seemed less frigid as she opened the front door to gesture Elle inside. "It's fine this time. Please leave your bags here, in the hallway."
"Of course." Elle prayed she landed this job. Rooming with the maid was preferable to taking her friend’s hand-outs or couch where she’d be reminded every second that her entire family was now in jail—and for some reason she wasn’t.
"Are you related to the Bentleys in the news?"
"Yes." Her heart banged in her chest. Her parents and six brothers had all been arrested for embezzling two hundred fifty billion dollars, which was why all her assets were frozen and everything taken from her ten days ago.
Most of her friends wanted nothing to do with her. At least Scarlett had mentioned a way out of this mess when Elle had shown up at her bridal shower party last night out of desperation for someone to tell her how to survive.
The maid asked no more questions and led her to the living room. "You may wait in here."
Elle took note of the polished white marble floors and plush blue Persian rugs that matched the lighting fixtures exactly. A tall-backed white couch with blue pillows beckoned her but she dared not sit down. It looked comfortable but this was not her home.
She hugged her waist and tried to rub off the goosebumps that grew on her arms as she waited by the door.
"You're pretty," a young female voice said.
Elle glanced all around her but couldn’t see anyone. When Scarlett told her about the nanny position, she’d mentioned one daughter though she hadn’t remembered the age. If the girl could speak then the job would be easier. She called out, "Thank you. I'm applying to be the nanny."
A girl with striking brown eyes and thick, brown hair came out from beneath the couch. Dressed for summer in pink shorts, a gray t-shirt, and pink sandals, Elle guessed the girl to be about six years old. "Pedar always hires boring women to babysit me." She stared at Elle’s black heels. "You don't seem boring."
"I try not to be." Elle wished she still had her closet full of clothes, and that she’d pac
ked a button-up white Oxford. Black slacks instead of a knee-length skirt. She could've been plainer to pretend to be boring. Her hand trembled so she kept hugging her waist to hide it. "What's your name?"
The girl walked closer and held out her hand to shake. "Margo B... Hawke."
Though she didn’t have much experience with children, she guessed there was more to the story. Why else hesitate over her last name? Elle willed her hands to stop trembling as she accepted the shake. "What's the B stand for?"
Margo leaned close as if imparting a secret. "My new last name is Hawke. Barampour was my old last name, but Pedar said it was time he honored his own father, so we changed our names."
"Does pedar mean dad?" Elle kneeled so that she and the girl were at eye level. Growing up in Miami, Elle knew some Spanish but was nowhere near fluent.
"Yes." Margo smiled and touched Elle’s long blonde hair. "I like you. You can teach me to be American."
Elle imagined all kinds of ways to take Margo under her wing, but what did she want to know? Elle was about to ask when she heard heavy footsteps echo behind her.
Elle felt someone stare at her back-side and slowly straightened, then turned around. Oh, my.
Scarlett's half-brother was nothing like her. This man was dark-haired, tall, imposing, and his muscles strained under a white business shirt, but there was no hiding a great build. His light olive-toned skin could easily pass for Italian, Greek, or maybe even Hispanic though with the name Barampour, he had to be Mid-Eastern. The only thing he had in common with Scarlett were those blue eyes.
If Elle wasn't here for a job, she'd have flirted. Her cheeks heated from gawking at him. She lowered her lashes and said, "I'm Elle Bentley. I'm here about the nanny position?"
His gaze briefly met his daughter’s and she saw a flash of emotion before he banked it. "Navid Barampour." Margo hugged her dad’s leg as entered. "Prudence, our maid, told me that you're related to the Bentley family in the news."
"I thought Scarlett already told you." Elle's face was so hot she was sure to be bright red. "I don’t believe my family stole that money even though they’ve been charged and the FBI swooped in and took everything claiming it was evidence. I don’t know how to help them…"
Navid stroked his chin and took a seat on the arm chair, gesturing for her to take the chair opposite. "So you don't have any nanny or childcare references."
"No, I don’t." She sat across from him and tried to hide her shaking hands.
His keen gaze noticed and he leaned forward. "Did you eat this morning?"
She’d been too upset for breakfast. "No." Elle realized her legs shook too. "I left the hotel early to get here."
"Wait here." Navid strolled out of the room.
Elle closed her eyes embarrassed by her body’s betrayal. Navid’s presence was very powerful.
Margo whispered from a place Elle couldn't see—the couch again? "Pedar isn't mean. Don't be scared."
"Thanks." Elle scanned the room, pausing at an over-sized blue chair near the window. She saw pink shoes but decided not to reveal Margo’s hiding spot.
Navid came back with a tray of fluffy biscuits, strawberry jam and two clear cups of tea which he placed on the low table between their chairs. "So, your family is…and you don't have any other family?"
"No." Her stomach growled at the sight of the soft bread. "After the news blasts claiming the Bentley Corporation had embezzled all that money, most of my friends stopped associating with me—Scarlett had already invited me to her bridal shower, but she was kind enough to tell me about this job."
He scowled in response. "How much do you know about the Hawke family?"
"I went to school with Olivia so I saw her every day of my childhood. My parents trusted yours to watch out for me when I went over to visit. They are like my second family." And there was no way she’d bring her bad luck to their doorstep or let them get ridiculed because of her name. With a job, she’d figure out a way to pay for and hire a good lawyer. She blinked. "I've been to your parent’s house countless times growing up, including their big New Year’s gala."
"Look, I don't know what kind of nanny you'd be..." Navid began.
Her skin felt jumpy. She needed this and if she had nothing, she wasn’t sure what was next.
His daughter climbed out beneath the chair and tugged on his pant leg. "Pedar, she can teach me to live in Miami. Please."
"And then the first time she tells you what to do that you don't want, do I kick her out on the street?" Navid asked his daughter. "A nanny is not a pet you get to boss around."
"It's important that Margo at least like who she'll spend her days with," Elle piped in—it was her only argument for the job. She probably shouldn't have come. Her mouth watered as she imagined a bite of the fluffy biscuit and sweet jam.
Navid tugged his daughter’s ponytail. "Margo, I need you to go to your room now and let me talk to Miss Bentley, alone."
Alone with Navid? She suddenly craved more than biscuits.
"Please don't send her away," Margo said, but she walked out the door and closed it behind her.
Elle’s heart beat a mile a minute and she feared if she didn't speak, she'd lose this opportunity.
Navid spoke first. "Eat. I can't have you starve on my account."
"I'm not hungry." Elle’s lie hovered between them.
He studied her with intense blue eyes, then picked up a cup of tea. "In my country, it's rude to let someone eat and drink alone."
She couldn’t offend him. Her fingers trembled as she reached for a biscuit. "Thank you."
"Now, let me ask you a few questions and try not to be nervous."
She chewed the last bite and wiped her lips with a paper napkin. She crossed and then uncrossed her legs while she swallowed and finally managed to say, "Okay."
"Where did you go to college?"
Simple enough question. She took a breath. "Tulane University in New Orleans."
He pushed another biscuit at her. "And what did you major in?"
"Marketing." She accepted the biscuit and recalled a lesson on how first impressions can make or break the deal. "And I can tell from my own classes that I'm not making a good impression."
"The opposite actually." He sipped his tea. "My daughter has not smiled since we moved here two weeks ago."
She met his gaze and for the first time didn't jitter with nerves. He’d moved here to make peace and get to know his own biological father and the rest of the Hawke clan.
"And did you ever work in marketing?" Navid asked, watching her face.
Heat washed through her. "I worked freelance in my father's company, whenever there was a product that needed a redesign of a launch that wasn’t successful. Do you have a marketing job?"
"No marketing job." Navid leaned closer and his nearness awakened parts of her she hadn't felt in a long time, if ever. "Years ago, I met my brother Gabe Hawke in the desert and stole something from him that I let a horrible person have."
"Maddox." She interrupted. "I remember your family going into seclusion."
At least in the end no harm had come to anyone of her friend’s family and somehow they’d all found a special someone to spend their life with during their troubles.
He nodded. "If it wasn't for me, Maddox would have had no reason to target my father and his family."
"Your family, too. Scarlett called you her brother."
"Half-brother," he corrected. "My father had an affair with my mother, which resulted in me. I grew up in Iran."
Images of a war-torn country came to mind. "Isn't it dangerous there?"
"Not really." He shrugged. "Not when you're from there, but moving to the United States has been a difficult transition, especially for Margo."
"What happened to her mother?" Elle sensed that Navid was single. He might be married and Scarlett never mentioned it, if so, Elle would feel guilty for checking him out.
He stared into the dark brew of his tea. "She died. Car accident. The driver was
a kid himself, on his cell phone, texting."
"When was this?"
"In Iran, three years ago now."
"I'm so sorry." Elle’s words seemed to float in the air.
Navid's face flushed rose beneath the olive of his skin. "My daughter misses her mother."
"I can understand that." She picked up her cup of black tea and sniffed, then tasted. No sugar, but a hint of subtle flavor. "I don't know any girl who wouldn't."
"So here is my proposal to you."
Her ears perked up. Proposal had her head spinning, but she ignored the craving her body had for him. "Yes?"
"You are not qualified to be a nanny."
No.
She had no backup plan. Oh goodness. Her skin felt clammy and cold but before she lost control, she focused on his words… proposal. What could he mean?
"My daughter likes you," Navid said. "And you have a background in marketing so there are two possible ways I could use your help, for which I'd pay you."
She stilled, waiting. "I'm all ears."
"After 7 PM, I make a habit of spending time with my daughter before she goes to bed."
"That sounds nice," she said. What would her role be?
"I’d like you to get Margo ready for school and then drive her in the morning—this would give me time to get to my office earlier than I have been, so that I can leave early, or at least on time, to be home for dinner."
He was giving her a job. She told herself to stay calm as she agreed. "I can do that."
Navid clasped his hands over his knee and leaned closer. He smelled delicious, like almonds and nutmeg mixed together. "After you drop Margo off, then I'd like for you to join me in the office from nine to twelve to work on my marketing project."