Page 42 of The Forbidden
“Shut the door,” he commands, without looking at me.
I do as he demands, then move further into his space, lowering down into one of his visitor chairs.
“If this is about this morning…” I start warily.
Evan finally meets my eyes. “It’s not,” he states simply, leaning back in his chair.
“Last night, then?” I hedge, enjoying the way his nostrils flare at the mention of last night. There is no doubt in my mind that, like me, he’s remembering the kiss.
“It’s not,” he grates out, his jaw ticking.
I nod, cross my legs and wait for him to start talking. Evan sighs, scrubbing a palm across his mouth. “The company is hosting an event tomorrow night to showcase our latest collection. My father would like you to join us.”
I blink. Whatever I was expecting him to say, it wasn’t that. “O-okay,” I stammer. “I’d love to join you.”
His jaw clenches, those icy blues turning to slits. “You won’t be attending as my guest, Anais,” he snaps. “Let’s make that clear. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be going at all.” I recoil, offended. Where’s the sweet, gentle, caring Evan from last night and this morning? I want him back. “It’s not a social gathering for you,” he warns. “You’ll be expected to manage displays. Work the room with a tablet, along with staff from our Fifth Avenue store, and register interest. That sort of thing. Understood?”
My smile is as fake as some of the women Evan has been with. “Of course,boss.”
His nostrils flare. “It’s black tie, so wear something appropriate. Not that it’ll be a problem for you, I know you have plenty of dresses.”
I nod my acquiescence, my eyes tracing over his meticulously organized desk. My smirk is unstoppable, as I imagine his carefully constructed control slipping if a pen were out of place. “Is that all?”
“Yes.” His jaw tics.
I rise from my seat, my smile wide. “Very well.”
He tracks my every movement, watching me intently as I stand to my full height.
With my gaze on his, and because I’m feeling petty, I place my palms on his desk, look him directly in the eye… and knock his pen holder over, creating a mess.
The rest of the day passes uneventfully and without any interference or orders being barked at me by Evan.
When five thirty hits, I grab my things, and make a break for it, eager for my dinner with Lana. We settle on a Chinese restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen. Because Lana is taking summer classes, and not working an internship, she’s already waiting for me when I arrive.
Striding down the street, I pause when I feel the odd sensation of being watched. Glancing over my shoulder, I scan the area, not finding anything out of the ordinary, but that doesn’t stop the shiver running down my spine. Shaking my head, I blow off the weird feeling, then make my way inside the restaurant to my friend.
From the moment we are seated at our table, she wants to know every detail. I tell her everything, from the interactions at the Maxwells’ lunch on Sunday, to what happened last night, to this morning’s elevator drama, and most recently, my act of rebellion in his office. She laughs at that, but her expression quickly sobers.
I know where her thoughts have gone.
Lana runs a finger around the rim of her glass, before slowly lifting her gaze to meet mine. My stomach drops when I see the pain in her eyes. I know she feels guilty about what happened that night, but she has no reason to. I don’t blame her. Never did. Never will.
“I hate that you still get anxiety. That night…” she trails off, before sucking in a breath. “It should’ve never happened. If I’d just left with you, like I should have, it wouldn’t have.”
I reach across the table, taking her hand, and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Nothing happened.” I smile, imploring her with my eyes. “And I don’t blame you. So stop blaming yourself.”
She glares, her nostrils flaring. “He hit you,” she snaps. “Black eye, nosebleed and scratched up from where he tried to subdue you. That’s not nothing.”
A ghost of a smile touches my lips, despite the heavy subject. “I love that you always have my back, Lana.” I tell her honestly. “But please forgive yourself. Stop blaming yourself.”
Lana exhales, her chest deflating as if she needed to hear those words as much as I needed to say them. She smiles softly. “Okay. I’ll try. Just like my beautiful, brave, best friend.” I chuckle, rolling my eyes. “So, what did Evan say? About the attack, I mean?”
I mull over her words, remembering his anger. Not just at the attack but because I never reported it. “He was mad. But I’m not sure if it was about the attack or the fact I didn’t report it or tell my family.” I tell her and she frowns, so I rush to defend him. “I mean, he stayed with me,kissedme, took me home. Rode the elevator up to my floor just to make sure I was okay. And this morning, when I was too petrified to get in.” I groan, my face dropping into my hands. “Evan appeared, talked me down and made everyone else wait for the next ride. It was… kind of cute.” I lift my head, smiling, only for it to fall when I recall what came after. “And then it was like midnight struck, and the spell was broken. But instead of Cinderella turning back into her rags, Evan turned into his usual asshole self.”
Lana laughs. “You wouldn’t want him any other way.”
I groan, “A little more affection would be appreciated, but honestly?” My lips curve into a grin. “You’re right. His asshole vibe is half the appeal.”
