Page 3 of Forbidden Fruit

I wrapped my arms around myself, not just for warmth but as a shield against the vulnerability that threatened to spill over.

"An opportunity," Burt had called it, his voice echoing off the brick walls, mocking me with a choice that felt more like a chokehold. To get intel on Maxwell Evans—an elusive and potentially dangerous man—or watch my carefully constructed life crumble? My past was a Pandora's box I couldn't afford to open.

"Fine," I spat, lifting my chin to meet the secret service agent squarely in the eye. "But if I do this, it's on my terms. You keep your distance, and my past stays buried." The words were a lifeline I clung to, as if I had a semblance of control in a situation spiraling away from me.

"Of course," Burt replied smoothly with a smile that set off alarm bells in my head. But what choice did I have?

"And when this is over,” I continued, taking a step forward, ready for this conversation to be over. “We're done. I give you what you want, and then you disappear from my life."

"Understood." His smile didn't reach his eyes. It never did with men like him.

As I turned to leave, my mind raced with plans and contingencies. I wasn't just Raya the bartender anymore; I was Raya the spy. A role I never auditioned for but one that had been thrust upon me. And if I wanted to survive, I'd have to play it better than I ever shook a martini. I'd need to be sharp, savvy, and seductive. This was a high-stakes game, one that could either free me from my past at last or entangle me further in its thorny vines. I could do this; I had to believe that. For now, though, I had to push aside the gnawing fear tempting me to flee and never look back. Except then when would I ever be able to stop running? No, I’d come far enough, established a decent life here. California was my home now, and I was determined to stay. If they wanted a show, I’d give them one to remember.

"Game on, Maxwell Evans," I murmured to myself as I stepped out into the night, the lights of Sweet Cocktails beckoning me back to a world where I was in control. And I wasn’t about to give that up easily.

***

Pushing open the door to the apartment I shared with Trina, I found her curled up on the couch, a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream cradled in her lap like a consolation prize. The glow from the TV flickered across her tear-stained cheeks as she watched some Hallmark movie about second chances. Ironic.

"Hey," I said softly, shutting the door behind me with a quiet click.

"Raya," she sniffled, looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes. "Slade...he cheated on me. I found a bunch of texts on his phone. He’s been seeing some gorgeous redhead behind my back. Sending her dick pics and all that." Her voice broke on the last word, and she dug the spoon into the gooey green swirl with more force than necessary.

"Ah, Trin, I'm sorry," I murmured, kicking off my shoes. I headed to the adjacent kitchen where I dumped my bag on the small island and grabbed a spoon from the drawer before joining her on the sofa. I scooped up a bite of the cold dessert and placed it into my mouth as she paused the movie and turned to look at me.

"Something's eating you too, girl. I can tell. What is it?"

I shook my head, trying to deflect. "Tonight's about you, okay?" I said, offering a smile I hoped was reassuring. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."

She searched my face, knowing there was more I wasn't saying, but she nodded, pressing play again and scooting closer. We sat there, two women bearing separate burdens but at least there was solace in knowing we weren’t entirely alone.

The spoon clinked against the bowl as Trina shoveled another heap of ice cream into her mouth, her eyes glued to the screen where love always found a way. I watched her for a moment, my own spoon idle between my fingers. My mind, though, was racing faster than the plot twists on the TV.

I'd slipped into this life at Sweet Cocktails like a shadow blending into the night, but now the stakes were changing. Maxwell Evans, the name alone had a weight to it, a power that seemed to reverberate through the very walls of the bar every Wednesday night. The whispers about him were laced with fear and admiration—gorgeous, untouchable, a man shrouded in mystery. I’d never met him before, but come next Wednesday, our worlds would collide for the first time. I’d never worked the Wednesday night shift before and had been surprised at finding my name on the schedule. Burt's handiwork, no doubt. He'd probably played my boss as well as me, maybe even threatened him with some of his own secrets for all I knew.

I chuckled dryly under my breath.

"Raya?" Trina's voice drew me back, and I realized I'd been staring into space. "You sure you're okay?"

"Sure,” I lied smoothly. “Pass the ice cream.”

Grabbing the container, I dipped my spoon in for another bite. I had heard Maxwell was guarded by his associates, a wall of muscle and silence that kept him insulated from the patrons. They reserved the VIP room, a sanctuary within the already exclusive haven of Sweet Cocktails. It was his fortress, and come Wednesday, I’d be one of the few allowed in. Another server, Cheyenne, once confided that all he ever ordered was a single martini. I wondered how a single drink could ever be enough for a man like that. Perhaps it was a statement, a testament to his self-control, or maybe he was a man who enjoyed routine. Regardless, that martini was going to be my ticket in, my chance to catch his eye. I just had to make it irresistible, lace my raspberry concoction with an extra layer of intrigue.

A shiver ran down my spine—not entirely unpleasant—as I imagined that first meeting. Would he see through me, or would the charm that had saved my skin more times than I cared to count hold up against his penetrating eyes? The thought made my heart beat a staccato rhythm against my ribs.

"Wednesday," I whispered to myself, setting the spoon down, my appetite gone.

"Did you say something?" Trina asked, pausing the movie and wiping her eyes.

"Nothing important," I reassured her, mustering a smile. "Just thinking about work."

"Ugh, work," she groaned, playing the movie again. "Don't remind me. With how much I’ve been crying, I’m sure I’m gonna look like hell when I show up tomorrow."

“Just add extra eyeliner and no one will know the difference,” I said with a wave of my hand. “Besides, you’re gorgeous. Don’t sell yourself short just because your man can’t keep his dick in his pants. It has nothing to do with you.”

Trina sighed and nestled back into the sofa cushions. “I guess. Thanks, Raya. I’m so glad you moved in with me after Lacey decided to up and get hitched to some dude she met in Vegas. I heard from her just today, in fact. She loves it there and they’re trying for a baby.”

“Wow, that’s awesome,” I said, nodding. I hadn’t met Lacey but felt certain that any of friend of Trina’s would be a friend of mine, too. Rising, I took the empty ice cream carton and our spoons into the kitchen, grounding myself in the here and now with the mundane task.

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