Forbidden To Want

One delicious hookup deal

One rule—no falling in love

Mia Abbott never backs down from a challenge—especially one posed by sexy widowed billionaire Kit Faulkner. He’s dark, dangerous, damaged—and pure, raw sex appeal. And for the next three weeks, he’s also Mia’s boss. The rules of their wicked engagement? No romance. Only, one night together isn’t enough. They’re about to discover that the most forbidden things are also the hardest to give up...

Lifelong romance addict JC HARROWAY lives in New Zealand. Writing feeds her very real obsession with happy endings and the endorphin rush they create. You can follow her at jcharroway.com, Facebook.com/jcharroway, Instagram.com/jcharroway and Twitter.com/jcharroway.

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Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Forbidden to Want

JC Harroway

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08678-3

FORBIDDEN TO WANT

© 2019 JC Harroway

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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To romance readers—you’re awesome.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

THE DECISIVE RAP at the door drags my attention from the dreary, grey view of London in the drizzle and back to my computer screen.

‘Just a minute.’ I shoot a scowl at the closed door and curse the interruption.

I’m thirty, part-owner of the family business I share with my brothers and head of luxury hospitality. I shouldn’t have to vet my own visitors or schedule my own appointments, but my assistant quit last week and I haven’t yet worked up the enthusiasm to hire a replacement.

This week will be hard enough without having unexpected extras piled on my plate. No doubt Reid, my efficient eldest brother, has circulated a company-wide memo outlining why my appearance at the office and my regard for polite discourse might be a little more sporadic than usual. The benefit of being the grieving widower, the family fuck-up, is that my usual demeanour provides the perfect antidote to the trivial. Unless it’s vital, people tend to steer clear.

‘Yes?’ I yell.

The Faulkner Group has many staff who could pander to my every administrative whim, but over the last three years I’ve managed to scare everyone off. Now only the brave venture close to my perpetual scowl for my signature on something my brothers deem important to the smooth running of our six London-based hotels.

Reid strides in, his thousand-pound suit immaculate and the air of authority his senior-sibling status grants him on display as if he wears a sandwich board emblazoned with his title: Head of the Faulkner Group, oldest of three brothers, here to keep the runt of the litter in line.

That I’m even physically in the office this week should appease the control freak in him, but one look at his expression tells me he expects more.

My back tenses, lifting the hairs above my collar. He’s going to be disappointed—we Faulkners are cut from the same cloth.