Forbidden: A Romance Anthology

by Yolanda Olson

  A low, maniacal laugh escapes me.

  His pissed-off stare narrows on mine. “You will not help the competition on my time.”

  “I was on my lunch break.”

  “Until you are no longer employed by me. Until I let you go…” Damon comes closer, and although I step back, there’s nowhere for me to go. I’m boxed in and surrounded by him and his scent. “You will be on my time.”

  The doors open with a high-pitched ring that reverberates through me. He’s so close that his hot breath soaks into my hair and the angry thrum of his pulse is visible on his neck.

  Without warning he breaks away from me, walking past the wide-eyed floor receptionist to the door that leads to the offices.

  “Come,” he orders, looking back at me. When I don’t follow, he adds, “Now.”

  Saving myself a scene, I follow his command until we’re closed off in his office.

  I didn’t pay much mind to it when I was here last. A wall of artfully stacked bookshelves with works from this house runs along one side, while the other two floor-to-ceiling glass walls overlook Bryant Park and Little Brazil. The dark wood desk almost feels too traditional for the space, but the brushed steel legs give just enough quirk that it fits perfectly.

  “You’re going to call Robert Rhodes back, and you are going to make sure he is here tomorrow.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Yes, you can,” he states, taking off his suit jacket and throwing it onto the coffee table. “And before you lie to me, note that I am fully aware of the contract you had.”

  “What?”

  A devious grin cuts his face, and while I search it for any hint of the man who seduced me at the bar, he comes flush to me, his hand hooking into the pocket of my jacket.

  “They didn’t deserve you.” His murmur is so low that it’s almost inaudible, but the hardness in his eyes softens to a silken chocolate. Bittersweet and intense. Overwhelming.

  Our breaths break the silence, permeating the air until the electricity between us zaps and zings. Focus unwavering, Damon grasps my hand, bringing it up between us. He holds it open in his palm as he places my phone in it and says, “Robert’s right—you shouldn’t let them rob you of your merit.”

  Tears fill my eyes with guilt and great sadness of what I’m about to do. The betrayal I’m about to commit against my own future.

  “Call him,” Damon whispers softly, his dark hair falling into his rounded eyes.

  Twisting away from him, I do as he instructs. Robert picks up almost immediately, and it takes seconds to arrange for him to come see me. And even when he ends the call, I keep the phone glued to my ear, buying myself a waif of time to pull myself together.

  “You’re doing the right thing.” Damon’s softened gravel coats the shell of my ear.

  His hands surround my waist as his front molds to my back. Like when we danced, my head lolls onto his shoulder. Damon is so tall, but with heels, my lips manage to rake along the underside of his jaw.

  “For you and your company.”

  Spinning me to face him, he grasps my face in his hands. “It’s your company too. Whilst you are here, this is your house. Until I no longer require it, your time is mine, Ava. You are mine until I let you go.”

  Lowering his face to mine, he presses his lips to my cheek. Every part of me is trembling. I’m choking on my unshed tears and my thumping heartbeats.

  “He doesn’t ever put his lips on you again. Do you understand?”

  I have no idea what’s happening right now, because he’s being every bit the man I wanted in that bar and every bit the man I loathe.

  “Answer me.”

  Shaking my head, I push away from him, only to be pulled tighter to him. As much as I try to fight him off, he’s solid and stronger than me. His shirt strains over his shoulder as he holds on to me.

  “I hate you.”

  “You were never meant to like me.” With an acid chuckle, he lets me go. “Now, be a good little mouse and show the world who you belong to.”

  Chapter Four

  AVA

  Robert looks around the meeting room while he takes a gulp of his black coffee. I had his favorite bakery drop off some pastries, but he’s barely touched the one on his plate.

  “The contract is iron-clad,” he finally says. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t expect it. I know the kind of man Damon Coldwell is.”

  The door opens and like his name summoned him, Damon walks in with Francesca in tow. The atmosphere cools, and the air thickens around us.

  “Mr. Rhodes, it’s good to see you again so soon.” His eyes flicker to me and then back to Robert as he introduces Francesca. “She’s the CFO. We sat together for a while last night and put together a forecast on how we expect the book to do based on interest and demand.”

  Robert laughs dryly, and all the while I’m taking the other woman in. Her gold-tipped brown hair dazzles under the lights like it’s glitter dusted, and her blue jeweled eyes sparkle. She’s an average height, but her build is petite and toned beneath the clingy shift she’s wearing.

  From nowhere, the thought strikes me: Has Damon fucked her too?

  Like he can read my thoughts, a hand brushes her shoulder while he pulls out one of the chairs for her to sit.

  Falling to the pit of my stomach with a wringing ache, my heart wilts.

  “Is that why you’re asking for more?” Robert sits straighter, all easiness evaporating from him.

  “You stand to make a lot more, and you’ll have a team of copy editors and publicists at your disposal. While Miss Monroe will still be on hand to help you, you will have other resources too.”

  The way he says it doesn’t sound like I’ll be working with Robert at all. Glancing over the spreadsheet with figures that Francesca puts in front of me, I’m impressed. I always thought that the value of his work was being underestimated, but seeing it like this…

  “You stand to make forty percent more than what Monroe forecasted.” I turn to face him. I refuse to let Damon walk into my meeting and undermine me.

  He can keep his games the hell away from my clients. I might not be happy about taking Robert from Monroe, but I’m not letting anyone else have him.

  “Money isn’t everything.” Robert faces me. “I didn’t leave Monroe because of the money.”

  No, neither did I. But yet, currency is the gospel we all live by.

  “The success of Behind the Headlines will be measured in sales and how it grosses. Your work deserves the credit.”

  His booming laugh fills the room. “Sounds like you’re using my own words against me.”

  “I’m learning,” I chuckle back at him, while meeting Damon’s gaze.

  I won’t lose to you.

  “Robert.” Damon levels me with a rueful smirk before focusing back on the client. “When you sign, we’ll have a team of people who will work to get you on the cover of every magazine and on every relevant show. We don’t just want to sell your book to the obvious market; we’ll put it on coffee tables and bedside tables across the world. We’ll put you center stage in front of the world.”

  Had anybody else made the statement, I would’ve said it was bold. But knowing what I know of him…I’m sure Damon has it all figured out with a contingency for every potential eventuality.

  “It’s afternoon somewhere in the world, so why don’t we go grab a drink and I can clear up any issues you might have. I know Miss Monroe has a meeting after this, but I’ve had my schedule cleared for the rest of the day.”

  Son of a bitch!

  Robert looks to me in question like he’s asking my approval on what to respond.

  “I’m sorry I can’t join you today. But I promise to catch up with you first thing tomorrow.” And with a scowl at Damon, I stand at the same time as Robert. With slow intent, I step closer to him, and holding his shoulders, I press a kiss to his cheek. “Call me whenever,” I murmur. “I’m always here to help you,” I add, lingering in Damon’s blind spot.<
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  “Shall we go discuss the contract?” Damon grits out with enough saccharine in his voice to make it sound pleasant.

  When we walk out of the meeting room, he hands Francesca the papers he brought down with him, swapping them for a copy of the contract. His hands linger a little too long over hers as they exchange a silent conversation that ends with them both snickering.

  Without my consent, jealousy sets in, burning through my veins like poison. There’s no sense to it, but I can’t help it. I can’t help wanting Damon as much as I hate him.

  I bite down on my lip as we get in the elevator, and during the short ride to my floor, all I can do is watch the way they look standing beside each other. Francesca’s so delicate and pretty next to his tall, broad body and his dark features.

  “Talk soon?” Robert nudges me as the doors ping open for me.

  “Anytime you need me.” With a squeeze of his arm I leave them, rushing to my office in search of refuge, but the dang glass offers me no shelter to fall apart and piece myself back together.

  “Hey stranger!” Owen pops his head into my office in the devious way he has almost every day since I started working here. “You look like you need a taco and margarita stat.”

  I do, but I can’t. For one my head just isn’t in the right place for alcohol, and I want to finish the manuscripts I inherited from my predecessor so I can focus on Robert and the other three projects I brought to CPM with me.

  “If you rain check on me again, I’m likely to bitch out. The testosterone on this floor is too much for me. Ellis and Morgan are pushing my limits with their two-horse race shit.”

  “I need to finish up with Marcella’s load. The publicist team is hounding me for live dates.” Pulling my glasses off, I throw them onto the stack of paper in front of me tagged with Post-it notes for rewrites.

  “Looks like you’re about to go cross-eyed. Come on, Avie…” He whines the ridiculous nickname he’s given me as he settles himself into the armchair of the small sitting area to the corner. “I can even order in. We can sit right here where you can death stare at work. Just have lunch with me. I need girl time.”

  “Fine, but you call me Avie again and my taco will go so far up your ass you’ll have a whole new meaning to ring sting.” Dragging my heels across the concrete floor, I check my phone for a reply from Lacie about dinner tonight.

  BBF: Charlie Hunnam and a dirty burger is exactly what I need. XoX

  I’m not sure about the dirty burger after Mexican. I don’t think I can take it.

  “Food is on its way!” Owen croons, kicking off his shoes before resting his feet on the arm of the small sofa beside his seat. “Heard you landed Robert Rhodes.”

  What?

  “How…?”

  “My dear, news travels faster than you know in this place. Besides, I told you…transparency is a thing here.”

  “Who else knows?”

  “Who doesn’t?” he counters. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Ava girl.”

  “He hasn’t signed yet, and fuck you!”

  “Hasn’t he? Because the press release has just gone out. Robert Rhodes is all over CPM’s website.”

  It’s not possible. It can’t be.

  Picking up my phone from the coffee table, I find another message from Lacie and a string of them from Marsh.

  BBF: This is not what I had in mind with kicking major ass. WTF???

  Ava: I can explain. X

  I ignore the trail of abuse from Marsh, blocking his number before deleting his contact. Then without hesitation I check CPM’s website. It’s all there. Publicity that takes weeks, if not months, to hammer out.

  An avalanche of hurt and guilt smothers me until I honestly think I’m about to wither into nothing. How must my father be feeling? How disappointed is he? How relieved must he be that he didn’t give me the job?

  “You okay?” Owen’s question echoes in the distance, behind the chaos of my thoughts.

  Without reply, I stand, grabbing my jacket and purse from the rack by the door before I walk out of my office. I don’t look back even as Owen calls me.

  I can’t be here anymore. I don’t belong here. This isn’t me.

  Staring at the floor buttons in the elevator, I press the one I know I shouldn’t after a while. The hum of the doors as they close slashes through me, turning the dirt inside me until I’m vibrating with so much anger, I can’t fist my hands or clench my teeth tight enough to get to grips with it.

  I’m a trembling shell of fury as I walk through the top floor. My designer heels clack behind me as I ignore the first assistant and launch into the inner circle of what has become my hell.

  The other assistant isn’t present, and without pause, I walk into Damon’s office. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing, but I dump my shit on his coffee table before I pour myself a long drink of the whiskey I know to be the most expensive.

  I don’t even like the liquor, but hey, it’s at least a hundred dollars or so I’m taking from him. It’s nothing compared to what he took from me today.

  Kicking my shoes off, I drop to my ass in front of the window overlooking the city. My heart in my throat burns as I sip at my drink, not able to taste it through the storm inside me.

  Looking across the city, loneliness blankets me, and I realize that I have no idea what I’m doing anymore. I’m lost.

  Chapter Five

  DAMON

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Coldwell, I tried to remove her, but…” William doesn’t have to finish for me to know what awaits me in my office.

  “Go home, William.” I sigh with exhaustion.

  Today can go fuck itself already. The office is darkening when I walk in, early evening setting across the city. Ava’s sitting on the floor hiccupping like she’s been crying for fucking hours.

  I don’t need this shit.

  Before I deal with her, I head to the drinks cart. I need something to tame the shitstorm inside me.

  I need something to sedate the fucking need to break something or someone. Taking a glass from the bottom shelf, I reach for the Glenfiddich, but it’s gone. And there’s only one person stupid enough to touch my shit in my space without my say-so.

  Here goes… Grabbing my glass, I go sit beside her, hoping she doesn’t fucking start bitching at me the moment she’s aware of my presence.

  I pour myself a drink, gritting my teeth at the lightness of the bottle. How much has she had? I don’t recall the bottle being this empty.

  “I really wanted to shout at you,” she hiccups, looking up at me with sloping eyes. Surprisingly there aren’t any tears, and although her speech is a little slurred, she looks like she’s holding the booze all right. “But—” Another hiccup. “—I don’t want to give you the satisfaction.”

  Drinking the measure I poured myself all in one go, I chuckle as I pour myself a full glass to match the one she’s got in her hand.

  “This is a twenty-five-thousand-dollar bottle of whiskey, and I’m pretty sure you’ve managed to drink at least a couple months’ salary of it.”

  She laughs, and like at the bar, it makes me like her more than I should. Ava has the kind of warm and inviting laugh that makes you forget yourself. It’s a fatal attraction. Like her anger and her sass.

  “Dock it.” Chinking her glass to mine, she hiccups again. “I’m a terrible drunk.”

  I’ve seen worse.

  “Water?” Although I ask, the idea of getting up isn’t pleasant.

  “Do you want water, Mr. Fuck Control?”

  “No.” I sip some more of my drink, and with certainty that I’m going to regret it, I ask, “Why did you want to shout at me today?”

  “Because.” She hiccups again, and I have to hold in my chuckle because she’s not even finished and she’s already gulping down some more liquor. “Because you’re an asshole who’s ruining my—” Hiccup. “—life.”

  “And how am I—” I feign a hiccup. “—ruining your life?”

  “See? Asshole.�
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  “I’m sure there are better adjectives to describe me.”

  “No, it sums you up nicely.” Her mouth quirks to one side, and in an impeccably coordinated move for her inebriated state, she turns to lean her back on the glass, her legs spread alongside mine. All of a sudden, New York gets a little prettier. “You’re tall, dark, and handsome. Hot actually, and you’re not so bad down there.” She gestures at my cock with her glass, dark manicured toes nudging my thigh. “But then you do shitty things, like film us fucking and then blackmailing me… You made me do shitty things too. So, yeah…asshole.”

  There’s nothing I can say in my defense because it’s all true. Instead, I finish my drink, and when I reach forward to pour myself another at the same time as she goes to hand me the bottle, our gazes catch. Close. Wide. And Ava really is beautiful.

  She’s tall, slender, and tanned. Her thick hair is so dark that it makes her eyes a bright cerulean even in the dark. Hypnotizing with the pink blushing her high cheekbones.

  “Truce?” she murmurs with the faintest hitch.

  Fuck.

  “For now.” Ava barely waits until I’ve finished before her lips press to mine. Plump and pretty even in feeling.

  “I still hate you.”

  “I still own you.” Licking across her lips, I cup her face with both hands, pulling her up onto her knees.

  Kneeling on the ground beside me, she’s a contained ball of fire, and fuck if I don’t want to break her open until she’s an out-of-control, blazing inferno.

  My heart drums along to her breathy groan as her mouth opens for me. She’s all aged oak and smoked wood with the most delicate hint of her. Sweet and sassy and soft.

  The urge to devour her is irresistible as I taste and breathe her in. With her nails raking across my jaw, I could be putty in her hands.

  Ava’s all breathless and shaky when I pull away. Glittering eyes widen on mine, and when I lick the residue of her from my lips, her thumb sweeps across them, parking itself right in the middle.