Page 14 of Forbidden Kiss

With soft and focused eyes, he blinks at me.

“You’re right,” he finally responds. “I’ll hop in the shower, and we’ll go over together.”

“Perhaps we should snap some selfies of us in bed and send them out via email too,” I remark, lacing my tone with bitter sarcasm.

His eyebrows draw in. “What?”

“They can’t see me walking in late with you.” I hear my voice rise and I don’t like it, so I drop it down a notch. “What will they say? What will they think?”

His eyebrows furrow. “Who is ‘they’?”

“The people!” I yell out, losing control. I can’t let him see me like this, not now. Once I throw on my clothes and slip into my wedge heels, I stand by the door with my arms crossed.

He looks taken aback by my outburst. “Okay. You want out of here? I get it,” he says, his tone turning distant. “I’ll have Marie pack you a breakfast and my driver will take you wherever you want to go. See you later in the office, I suppose.” His words, hanging heavily in the air between us, signal the end of our encounter and leave me feeling like a discarded piece of luggage.

Despite wanting to believe everything is okay, I can’t. It isn’t. Dad’s death and my dumb one-night stand with the new company owner have left me in a state of shock and disbelief. My lip stiffens before I nod and accept the offer.

“Okay.” I open the door and comb frantic fingers through my hair. Then I turn toward the hallway so he can’t see my face. “Look. I don’t know what happened, but I went from okay to frantic in a short time. I think I just need to leave.”

He raises his tense hands to the ceiling, the muscles of his torso flexing under the silk sheets. As he lets them fall back onto the bed, a hint of agitation seeps over his body.

The tension lingers in the air, like electricity pulsing between us.

A sharp breath escapes my clenched mouth while I shut the door behind me. As I stride down the wide hallway, my eyes dart around in search of any familiar landmarks. But everything seems to blur together in this lavish mansion that I’ve been whisked away to.

Soon, I come to a fork in the path and must choose a direction. My mind is still fuzzy, and I curse myself for not paying attention during our arrival. Which way leads to the front door?

Panic rises in my chest. How did I get here? Though I try to retrace my steps, my brain is still hazy. Turning left, I see a woman standing in front of an open door.

Long, curly hair cascades down her back, framing her feminine silhouette. She quickly disappears into the room.

Who was that? In my quest to find the kitchen, I push aside my curiosity and force myself to continue my path without dwelling on her for too long. The smell of fresh bread leads me through winding corridors and twisting hallways until I spot the same mysterious curly-haired woman sauntering down another hallway.

Is she purposely avoiding me, or is she leading me somewhere?

I follow her, curious to see where she’s going.

She opens a wide black door and disappears inside, leaving a tantalizing scent of freshly baked bread lingering in the air. Without hesitation, I slip inside after her.

No sight of the woman, just a brown paper bag on the counter with a note. I approach to read it.

“Hello.” A smooth female voice startles me from behind.

I turn around to see the same stunning woman leaning against a granite countertop, her curly brown hair falling in loose waves around her face.

Her caramel skin glows in the warm light of the kitchen, and her green eyes sparkle. She’s wearing a casual robe that’s loosely tied around her waist and fluffy slippers on her feet.

The contrast of her elegant appearance against the warm, comforting scent of freshly baked bread is almost surreal. With her arms crossed, she sizes me up while an amused smile plays on her lips.

Her pointed finger draws my attention downward, towards my blouse. Once I realize my cleavage is on full display, my cheeks flush. I had forgotten to button up properly before leaving Ethan.

“Oh, um, sorry.” My hands fly up to cover myself and fix the shirt, but the buttons are missing.

Feeling awkward and out of place, I turn to leave. This whole situation is becoming too strange for my liking. Maybe I don’t need that bread after all.

“Are you running late for school, dear?” Her playful voice rings out from behind me as I try to push open the door.

“No, I—”

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