Page 36 of The Forbidden

“And you’ll be coming with Sylvie and me?” Gabe asks.

And… is his voice huskier than normal? I shake off that notion. “Yeah, you still need a chaperone.”

Gabe snorts in amusement, shaking his head but then when his eyes land on me, they’re warm and filled with gratitude. “Kat, this—thank you. It means a lot that you managed this.”

I cross my arms, leaning against the wall. “Sylvie deserves this and it’s important to her. We’re all working in her best interests.”

Gabe steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “And what about you? Going to France with me—this isn’t a simple decision.”

I avoid his gaze, focusing instead on the patterns in the wood grain of the parquet flooring. “I’ve arranged for my brothers to cover for me at the farm. It’s handled.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Curiosity lifts my head to meet his eyes. “Are you okay with this? With us being there together?”

I don’t like the softness in his voice or the promise in those words. Or maybe I don’t like imagining such things. “There is no us,” I say flatly.

The corner of his mouth curves upward and he actually taunts me. “Didn’t seem that way the other night.”

A sound rattles in my throat, dismissively haughty. “It was just a kiss, not that good and already forgotten.”

Stroking a thumb along his chin, he murmurs, “Not the way I remember it. Maybe you need a reminder.”

“Maybe you need a swift kick to the balls if you try it,” I reply sweetly, even fluttering my eyelashes. My words have bite and determination, but I can tell by the way he’s looking at me that he knows as well as I do that if he kissed me, I’d go all in.

Luckily, Sylvie’s footsteps pound down the stairs. We both turn to see her coming at breakneck speed with a towel slung over her shoulder. She’s sporting a cute yellow bathing suit with white polka dots and ruffles along the shoulders and hips. “Let’s go swimming.”

“Let’s do it,” Gabe says, slinging his arm over her shoulders. He walks her toward the back patio door that will lead to the pool path and I follow along. I watch as they chat easily, Sylvie’s smile as bright as her swimsuit and that makes having to deal with Gabe Mardraggon very easy.

CHAPTER 14

Gabe

Walking through the main floor of my home, I switch lights off as I prepare to go up to my bedroom. It’s nowhere near bedtime and I still have a lot of work to do, but I have found the master suite to be extremely comfortable. I’ve taken to doing evening work sitting atop the big four-poster bed with my laptop propped before me. In the kitchen, I grab a bottle of water and in the pantry a bag of peanuts to snack on. My phone chimes in my pocket and I pull it out to see that Kat has texted again.

I ignore the beating of my pulse that happens every time I get a text, call or email from the woman. Over the past handful of days, we’ve settled into a routine that includes daily contact. If she’s not asking questions about something she’s read in the mountain of paperwork I’ve given her about the winery, she’s reporting on Sylvie. This is extra special as she’s doing so of her own accord, and it speaks to Kat’s kind heart, despite years of hard feelings between us.

Today I’ve had a barrage of questions about what to pack for our trip, which occurs in four days. Sylvie gets out of school on Friday, and we’re scheduled to load up on the Mardraggon jet Saturday morning.

I flip to the text thread and smile at Kat’s question. Even though we’re taking a private jet, I still need to bring my passport, correct?

Chuckling, I can’t help but think it’s utterly adorable that Kat knows nothing about international travel. It’s not that I think she’s unsophisticated in those ways because she comes from a very sophisticated family. It’s just that those things have never been important to her before so she doesn’t know about them. I grew up jetting all over the world and although Kat’s family had the means to do that, all the Blackburn kids were working the farm probably from the time they could walk.

I set the water and peanuts down on the counter to free my hands for a reply. Yes. You need your passport. Still have to go through customs.

The three round dots indicate she’s responding and I wait patiently.

Or rather impatiently.

You never know what you’re going to get with our exchanges. Sometimes our texts can devolve quickly into an argument or we’ll end up teasing each other like the days of old. It lends a thrill to our communications because together we are unpredictable as hell.

Her response is neither though: Thx.

Shrugging, I pocket my phone and reach for my snacks when the doorbell rings.

My eyes drift over to the digital clock on the built-in double oven and I see it’s just after nine p.m. I’ve been expecting that doorbell to ring from the moment I arrived home a few hours ago and I even debated whether I would answer or ignore it when it finally happened.

But I’m not one to push my problems aside, so I’ve already planned out in my mind how this will go down.

Leaving the snack behind, I move through the kitchen that opens into the formal living area, which in turn leads into the foyer. I reach the double front doors and take a breath before grabbing the knob on the left and opening it, knowing damn well who’s on the other side.

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