Page 39 of The Forbidden
“Sure,” I respond, cutting the engine and unbuckling my belt. She exhales, shoulders sagging in relief.
Does she really think I’m that much of an asshole that I’d leave her like this?
I inwardly scoff. Probably. I mean, it could be considered out of character. I’ve never been particularly nice to Anais Lauder.
“Thank you.” Her smile is warm, sincere, and my chest tightens.
Jesus. I shove the weird feeling aside, and though I am absolutely positive this will only encourage her, I open my door and climb out of the car anyway. Rounding the vehicle, I step up beside Anais, placing my hand on her lower back and gently nudging her forward when she remains in place. I knew this was a bad idea. She’s now staring at me with even bigger hearts in her eyes. I can practically hear her mentally planning our wedding.
Irritation stirs inside me, but I tamp it down. Now is not the time to be an asshole and scold her on her unrequited love.
We walk side by side, entering the revolving door. Anais greets the concierge before we head to the elevator. The way her hand trembles when she pushes the call button, has me frowning. For some reason, I don’t like seeing Anais this way. Before I can stop myself, I cover her hand with mine and give it a reassuring squeeze.
Her wide eyes snap to mine, the shock in them evident.
Welcome to the club, Brat. My experience in comforting women is limited and I’m as shocked as you are about this turn of events.
“You’re okay, Anais. I’m here.” I murmur, softer than I ever believed I was capable of.
Anais’s gaze traces over my face, searching for what, I’m not sure. But eventually she nods, preparing herself, like she’s about to jump off a cliff. It seems silly, considering it’s only an elevator, but I have more context now. I understand her trauma better, her hesitation.
The elevator dings, the doors sliding open in the next second. Anais glares at the small cart like it personally offends her, and I guess in a way it does. Then without a word she straightens her spine, lifts her chin and the confident, strong Anais appears. I step in behind her, watching as she hits the button for the top floor.
“Good girl,” my voice is soft, comforting.
I nearly vomit in my mouth. Since when have I been warm or soothing to anyone?
Anais smiles up at me, then drops her gaze to the floor. “Thanks for being here.” She laughs nervously, shaking her head. “I’m sure in the last hour, I’ve proven to be the silly little girl you’ve always thought I was.”
I stare at her, willing her to look at me. When she doesn’t, I sigh, reaching out and gripping her chin between my fingers. I lift until her eyes meet mine. “Stop,” I chastise. “That thought hasn’t crossed my mind once,” I tell her honestly, and for a moment her sparkling lilac eyes draw me in. I shake my head, ridding myself of the weird fog. Then I release her, and step back, putting space between us.
She stares at me, her eyes darting between mine as if trying to read every last thought in my head. It unsettles me, making my skin itch, and I feel the usual irritation toward her building inside me. But then the elevator stops, the doors opening just in time. Whether it saved me or her, I’m not sure.
I sweep my arm out, muttering. “After you.”
She blinks, then rolls her eyes. My lips twitch, there’s the brat I know. As much as I’d die before admitting it, I prefer this version, the smart mouth, her spirited side, to the timid shell of a woman she’s been tonight
“So bossy,” she mutters, sashaying out of the elevator.
“Ah, there she is.” I tease. “The real Anais returns. I was wondering when she’d make an appearance.”
Anais pauses; her hand suspended by the keypad on the wall next to her front door. I haven’t been to this apartment since Harrison lived here. I briefly wonder if the code for entry has changed. Then scold myself for caring. Because why does it matter?
“And the asshole is back, too,” she snarks back. “Good to know my meltdown didn’t shock you into becoming a decent human.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. Our bickering, back and forth, has eased the tension.
Her fingers fly over the keypad as she punches in the access code. Then she turns to me, to face me, the scowl on her faceundermined by the smile curving one side of her mouth, and the twinkle in her eyes.
“Aww, look at us,” she purrs. “First that kiss, now bantering and shit. Next stop marriage.”
I slip my hands in my pants pockets and arch a brow. “You really are delusional, aren’t you?”
“It’s not a delusion if we’re meant to be together.” Anais shoots back, shrugging. I stare dumfounded at her relaxed posture, the sure expression on her face, and feel genuinely concerned that she might actually believe the shit she is spewing. “And you kissed me,” she points out.
I balk. “Yes, I kissed you because you were freaking out,” I counter. “It was to calm you down.”
She shrugs again, a dreamy smile on her expression. “It was still a kiss.”
