Page 46 of The Forbidden
“You’ve certainly grown up.” He muses, slipping his hands into his pockets as his eyes still assess me. I don’t feel it’s in a sexual way, more clinical.
Blushing, I laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Jameson nods, but before he can speak, Evan wedges himself between us. “Sorry to interrupt this little reunion,” he growls. “But we have an event to host.”
His eyes stay fixed on Jameson, his jaw tightening.
Jameson’s indifferent stare flicks to Evan. Something passes between them. I glance between them, my eyes narrowing when one corner of Jameson’s mouth tugs up in a smirk. Evan’s nostrils flare, as he stares him down.
“Of course, Maxwell,” Jameson finally speaks, gesturing toward the corridor. “You know the way. I’ll join you shortly.”
Evan scowls and grabs my elbow, tugging me forward. I stumble in my heels. “I’m not a damn child, Evan.” I snap, yanking my arm out of his hold. “So stop pulling me around like one.” I hiss, smoothing a hand down the front of my dress.
Evan’s gaze sweeps over me, lingering for a second. A flash of something else passes through them. Lust maybe? I pause, a thrill running through me. He blinks. And then it’s gone as if it never happened. He clears his throat, scowling. “We have twenty minutes before guests arrive,” he mutters. “You need a tablet and a rundown of the collection.”
Aria steps in, her confused blue eyes flicking between us. “I’ll run through the collection with Anais. You handle the other hostesses and make sure everything is set up.”
Evan stares at her, then with a sigh, he nods curtly. He flicks a glance in my direction, then turns and strides down the corridor, toward a door surrounded by security.
“You okay?” Aria asks, drawing my attention to her. I take her in, the way her red dress fits her like a glove and compliments her olive skin. She’s beautiful, as are all the Maxwell siblings. Good genes will do that.
I smile. “I’m good.”
“Let’s go then. Before my brother has a coronary,” she grins, looking over her shoulder at her father who is still on the phone.
I nod, inhaling a calming breath. Then I follow Aria and Bishop toward the ballroom, with an unsettling feeling I can’t shake.
Midway through the Maxwell summer collection showcase, I’ve secured interest from over a dozen clients looking topurchase several different pieces. They’re deals that could potentially be worth millions. Too bad, I’m not working on commission.
I frown, glancing around at the other hostesses. They’re women I have never met because they work at the store on Fifth Avenue, but I have no doubt they’re only here for the commission. I file that thought away for later. I’ll definitely be asking Evan about that.
Right now, I’m deep in conversation with Prince Fredrik of Holland. I’m trying to sell him on the crown jewel of the collection. A one of a kind, 20-carat Tyrian Purple, D-Flawless diamond necklace, displayed in a shatter proof glass cabinet like the rest of the pieces.
I stare at it dreamily. It’s absolutely stunning, and something I would love hanging from my neck. My parents might be in the one percent of wealthiest people in the world, but there is no way they would purchase this for me. No matter how much I begged.
“This piece belongs on only one neck,” Prince Fredrik murmurs softly, his dark brown gaze intent on mine. “And she is standing right in front of me. Your eyes…” he exhales a breath, shaking his head. “They’re as rare as this diamond. This necklace, it would complement your eyes perfectly.”
My cheeks heat, as I clutch the tablet to my chest. “Flattery will get you everywhere, your Highness.” I bat my lashes, pushing a loose lock of hair behind my ear with my free hand. He is so suave, dressed to kill and sure of himself. A real-life Dutch James Bond, as the tabloids called him. “But I see what you’re doing. And though your words are very kind, I do believe there are many women this piece would be better suited to. Maybe your girlfriend or… wife?” I raise a brow.
He chuckles. “Neither actually, much to my mother’s annoyance.” His gaze narrows. “But you, Anais. You have afire I don’t usually find in a woman. I like that. Would you like to join me for a drink later?”
My eyes widen. This conversation escalated quickly. And though Fredrik is attractive, accomplished, and a prince, my heart belongs to someone else – even if that someone has rejected it.
Before I can let him down gently, a large hand wraps around my elbow.
“Please excuse us, Prince Fredrik.” Evan’s voice barely conceals his anger. “I need a word with Anais.”
Without warning, Evan drags me toward the exit and down the corridor, kicks open a door, pulls me inside and slams it shut.
“What the hell, Evan?” I snap, my eyes narrowing in on him.
“What the hell is right,” he growls, pinning me against the wall, caging me in with his arms on either side of my head. “This isn’t the fucking place to pick up men.” My breath hitches. He glares down at me. “What the fuck are you doing, Anais? Showing up, dressed like a slut, flaunting yourself like you’re part of the exhibit.”
My anger ignites. “Screw you,” I hiss, shoving his chest, but the asshole doesn’t budge.
“In your dreams,” he laughs darkly. My mouth parts, ready to unleash hell on him. But then he does something that makes me freeze. Evan leans in, burying his face in my neck. My brain short circuits as all the air leaves my lungs. He runs his nose along the sensitive skin, making me shiver. I go stock still. I don’t think I’m even breathing. Because what the hell is happening right now? “Did you wear this dress for me?” he murmurs in my ear.
Swallowing, I shake my head. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
