Page 35 of Forbidden Bond

There’s a certain desperation in my voice. Topher must see that I’m this close to losing it, because he wraps his arms around my shoulders and rubs them soothingly.

“Hell if I know. Maybe ask my brothers,” he says trying to lighten the mood.

Spoken like a man who’s probably been in the exact same position.

My eyes well up with tears and I blink them away. “I miss my best friend.”

Topher doesn’t say a word as I try to pull myself back together. He’s like an unshakeable boulder helping me through a hard moment. And when I’m done, he’s waiting for me on the other side.

“Jameson’s a good person,” I say firmly, daring him to contradict that.

“Of course he is, princess. You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you’ll find a way to help your friend.”

We head down the stairs and Topher calls for the valet to bring his motorcycle.

“I’ll catch a cab to my parents’ house,” I tell him.

He arches one eyebrow. “You don’t want to go there.”

“No. But it’s my only other option. I could go to my sister’s place, but it’s late and I don’t want to bother her.”

“How about I take you to my house?” He chuckles at whatever expression is on my face. “Relax, Katherine. It’s just one night.”

“I’m not spending the night with you.”

“I’m not asking you to sleep with me. It’s a friendly sleepover at your old pal’s place. I’m helping you out of a bind.”

“You know, just putting ‘friendly’ in front of it doesn’t change anything.”

“What are you talking about?”

His eyes are narrowed in challenge but I’m not going to be the one to comment on whatever this thing is between us. Or the fact that going to his house would be a bad idea. So I shrug.

“Fine, let’s go to your place.”

I really don’t want to have to go home and spend the rest of the night enduring my dad’s judgmental expression and his numerous questions.

He gives me a funny look. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a problem with gratitude?”

I smile. “I’ll thank you if I survive the night.”

I don’t add the last part: if I survive the night without doing anything stupid. Like kissing his pretty face.

* * *

Topher lives in a condo that was apparently a gift from his dad before he passed away. It’s a pretty nice place. The walls are a gray color, most of the furniture’s dark, and there are one or two paintings hanging on the walls. I stare at one for a while.

“You like it?” Topher asks, coming to stand beside me.

“It’s pretty. I’ve never really understood the motivation behind art but I like that it’s not straightforward. Art is a reflection of a person’s emotions and thoughts. Only the person that creates it has the ability to fully understand what a piece of art is trying to say. Everyone else is just guessing.”

“This one was painted by my sister-in-law,” Topher states, gesturing at the painting. “She’d love to hear that. I’m pretty sure she’d like you.”

“Daniella Evans.” It’s not a question. I know exactly who his sister-in-law is. Topher raises an eyebrow. “My dad talks about your family a lot.”

“And yet,” he drawls, “you didn’t know who I was when we first met.”

“He doesn’t talk much about you,” I clarify with a smile. Why should he? Topher’s not a member of the mafia.

---