Forbidden Desires

Emma.

My entire morning revolved around this thirty-second encounter. And if I timed it poorly and missed it? My whole day would be shit.

I needed it like a shot of adrenaline to start the day.

Every morning, careful to make sure my makeup was perfect and my hair was in place, I’d stop at the coffee shop on my way to work. I’d linger, staring at the rows of gourmet pastries and handcrafted mugs.

And every morning, promptly at ten to eight, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sinful strolled inside and ordered a double shot of espresso to go.

Our routine had gone unchanged for the last ten months, and even though I cherished every second of our time together, we’d never spoken a single word. Hadn’t even made eye contact. For all I knew, he thought I was one of the commuters grabbing a mug of something hot and strong on my way to work. Just like him, I assumed. Or worse, maybe he didn’t even notice I existed.

Until one morning, I’d stepped into line behind him and, for some inexplicable reason, he’d turned and looked deep into my eyes. I couldn’t say how long the eye contact went on, probably only a fraction of a second. But even so, I felt like my lungs would collapse from the weight of his hazel stare boring into mine.

Since then, I’d tried a few times to recreate the moment, to wear some new perfume that might catch his attention, or pull my brown hair into a different style that might catch his eye. But nothing had made a difference. No, I was certain he didn’t even know I existed. Which was for the best, since I was pretty sure this was borderline stalking.

But then, that had been before everything changed. It was the precursor to something that would alter my life forever. Something that would make everything richer and sweeter and deeper . . . only to have it all fall apart, leaving me to piece together the shattered fragments.

Luckily for me, though, every instant was etched perfectly into my memory, even now as I struggled to decide if it felt more like a curse or a gift.

That morning, the scent of roasting coffee beans had filled the air, and steam formed inside the windows from the warmer-than-usual foggy September day.

I was standing in the corner, admiring the new array of teas for the fall, when the door chimed behind me, forcing me to turn around and look for the man I knew would be there.

He was dressed in his charcoal-gray suit—one of my favorites. The fine material stretched across his sculpted biceps and wide shoulders enticingly. His crisp dress shirt was navy, contrasted by his silver tie. Every inch of him was polished. But it was the scowl painted on his chiseled features that made my knees weak.

In the months since I’d first seen him, I’d imagined a life for him, even come up with a few names and rough ideas of what his office and apartment might be like. I never saw what he drove, but I was certain it must be something fast and sleek.

As for his job, I was sure he had a high-powered career as a corporate attorney or a stockbroker, or maybe a real estate investor. Something where he was in control, and his powerful body and almost overwhelming presence could do most of his talking for him.

“Espresso—” he said, his voice rough but sensual, deep and intoxicating. I’d often imagined the way my name would sound rolling off his tongue.

“Double shot, to go,” the barista finished for him, smiling.

It seemed I wasn’t the only one who had him pegged. The man was nothing if not predictable.

He gave her a curt nod, his gaze drifting to the smartphone in his hand that had just let out a demanding ping. From where I stood a few feet from him, I glanced over, trying to get a peek at the background of his screen to see if there was a picture of him with a woman, or maybe one of a child set as his screensaver, but no. Just the standard factory presets.

He was all business. There was little fanfare, no good morning or other greeting to the staff at the café, not even a friendly smile. But that voice, though . . . pure sin.

I swallowed hard and stepped in line behind him, thinking of it now as he stood inches from me. If I introduced myself, I might get him to say my name, another moment to carry with me late at night when I lay awake thinking of him with my hand down the front of my panties.

Instead, the barista set the cardboard cup down in front of him. He handed her a black matte credit card, waiting with his hand outstretched as she swiped it.

Almost as if in slow motion, he turned. Shooting a look over one broad shoulder and holding my gaze, he dropped something into the glass jar in front of the register. Then he grabbed his coffee cup and strolled away like nothing had happened.

And for a second, nothing did.

“Nice tip, asshole,” the pink-haired barista muttered as the door chimed closed behind him. She plucked a business card from the tip jar that was otherwise filled with crinkled dollar bills and coins, then tossed it into the trash can behind her before ringing up my order for a small tea.

I waited, staring at the discarded rectangle as a sense of panic washed through me.

Maybe it was because I was standing on the cusp of thirty, or because I was suddenly single for the first time in forever. Maybe it was because the possibility of ending up as a sad cat lady now seemed like a very real possibility. Whatever the reason, I did something reckless.

My heart pounded out an unsteady rhythm as I reached toward the barista. “C-can I see that card?” Totally pathetic and I knew it, but I couldn’t help myself.

She eyed where it rested on the top of the trash can—seemingly stuck to the side of that morning’s new trash bag—and then looked back at me.

“Please,” I added, letting a hint of my desperation show.

Rolling her eyes, she picked up the card, brushed off a few errant coffee grounds, and extended it toward me. “No skin off my ass.”

I plucked the card from her fingertips and muttered an apology, unable to help the fact that I was acting like a crazy person.

The heavyweight linen card felt sumptuous in my hand. Rubbing my fingers across the raised ink, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d left this on purpose. If he’d meant for me to find it.

He didn’t strike me as a careless man, didn’t seem the type to make the mistake of dropping his card where he meant to leave cash. As weird as it sounded, that look, the way he’d held my gaze? I was sure this was deliberate. I felt it in my bones.

Before I could even process my destination, my black ballet flats were carrying me toward the door.

“Miss,” the barista called after me. “Your tea!”

I rushed back and dropped some money on the counter, then told her to keep it and waved a hand in her direction before continuing toward the door.

I didn’t need the tea. I’d gotten what I came for.

Clutching the card, I rushed down Second Avenue, oblivious to the people rushing past me. I made it to the bus stop just in time to see the hulking, dusty city bus squeal to a stop. After trudging up the steps, I found a seat in the front, the card still in my shaking fingers.

I lived in the heart of the city, even though I couldn’t afford it, even though I worked thirty minutes away in the suburbs. There was something romantic about living downtown—the history of the buildings, the quaint brownstone I lived in with its charming front steps, built over a hundred years ago. Nothing about living in an apartment complex with concrete strip malls decorating the landscape appealed to me. Well, nothing except the idea of a functioning kitchen and a modern bathroom bigger than a coffin, but hey. A girl couldn’t have everything.

A rush of nerves settled in the pit of my stomach at the thought of my house. At this point, I wasn’t even sure I could afford to keep it, never mind remodel, but thinking about it only made my heart ache. It had been my grandmother’s, and the memories I had there couldn’t be replaced.

I shoved aside the harsh light of reality and settled back into my fantasy world.

For the next few minutes, I let myself daydream. Would his name be something masculine and old-fashioned, like Jack or Michael? Or maybe something unexpected, like Finn or Ansel? I’d waited for this moment for so long, I made myself slow down and savor it.

By the time I pushed my way through the front doors of the library, I was almost trembling with excitement to find out. I slowed as I entered the foyer, stopping to wave to Stan, the library’s technical assistant. He was a nice guy, but it grossed me out how he brought the periodicals into the men’s room with him.

Slowing down briefly to flick on the overhead fluorescent lights, I continued behind the counter and down the short hallway that led to my office. I swung open the frosted glass door with Emma Bell, Head Librarian emblazoned across it in gold and black, and rushed in with a sigh.

Mrs. Duncan retired last year after spending forty years as the head librarian, and now the job was mine. I loved it, loved everything about this sleepy library, but in this moment, the last thing on my mind was work.

Shutting the heavy oak door behind me, I let out a shaky breath and sank down into my stiff wooden chair. Opening my palm, I revealed the card and the little indents where the corners of the paper had pressed into my skin.

My lips twitched into a smile as I finally allowed myself to read what it said.

Gavin Kingsley President Forbidden Desires Gavin.

My fake boyfriend’s name was Gavin, and it was freaking perfect. My smile widened. A hot name for a hot man.

There was no contact information, no phone number, not even an email address, which was . . . strange. Not that I would have contacted him. God, what would I say? “Hi, I’m the mousy brunette librarian who stares at you at the coffee shop.”

No, thanks. His rejection was one humiliation I’d rather forgo.

But, wait.

What was Forbidden Desires? It was apparently a company he ran or owned. Swirling my mouse across the mouse pad to wake my laptop, I typed Forbidden Desires into the search engine and waited while the outdated machine slowly populated the results.

A lot of questionable websites came up, so it took me a few tries to locate the correct one. But when I did, I still didn’t think it could be right. Not really. Yet the photo of him there was undeniable.

My mouth fell open and I stared at his image, so chiseled and handsome. And just like that? All my theories about him being a corporate ladder climber died on the vine. Because Gavin Kingsley, whoever he was, was into something a whole lot more sinister.

“Emma?”

My pulse hammering, I quickly closed the browser and turned. Bethany was smirking in my office doorway, her slender arms crisscrossing her thin frame.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She raised her palms in front of her. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

I shook my head, willing myself to calm down. “No worries. You just startled me. What’s up?”

“We have a ten o’clock field trip coming in, and then an author reading in the Steinbeck Room at eleven. Do you know how many people we’re expecting? I just want to make sure we’re ready.”

I flipped through the stack of folders on my desk and handed her the one that read Special Events across the top. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” She smiled. “And you might want to grab the Lysol. Stan just went into the bathroom with a stack of reading material again.”

I nodded and cringed. “On it.”

Bethany was in charge of marketing and public outreach, and we’d become good friends in the last six months. We occasionally got together on the weekends, meeting up for dinner or to try a new yoga class.

All of that had transpired more recently. Or, as I was now calling this era in my life, PN.

Post-Nathan. Maybe I should rebrand that, though. Call it something like NE—New-Emma— to put a more positive spin on it.

But I wasn’t new. I was just finally able to be myself for the first time in a long time.

Blinking, I tried to force myself not to think about the time before now, or what I might call that.

The Dark Ages.

The Bad Times.

The Emotional Upside Down.

I did the things my therapist had told me not to do. I thought of how I should have known better, should have seen the abuse coming from a mile away. How I should have walked away when I first realized how Nathan isolated me from my friends and family. How I’d lost three years believing he loved me, thinking he would change.

It was painful, even now, so many months later, but I reminded myself of what my therapist had said. My family had forgiven me and were happy to have me back. I was making new friends. My life was on track.

Now all I had to do was forgive myself and move on.

But if what I’d seen online was any indication, I still had no reason to trust myself, especially when it came to men. Gavin Kingsley was clearly trouble. Maybe if I researched him more, though, I’d find his situation was different from what it appeared.

Maybe . . .

“Emma! Code Brown!” Bethany shouted from down the hall, and I sat up a little straighter.

Shoving my thoughts away, I rose from my desk and followed her into the hall, armed with my trusty bottle of air freshener and disinfectant. As much as I wanted to keep reading about Gavin, I had to focus on work, and then tonight? I would look at the website again and find out exactly what kind of man I was dealing with.

To my surprise, it didn’t take long to get Gavin off my mind. Between the absence of my head children’s librarian on field trip day and three readings, I found myself trudging toward my bus stop at the end of the day in what felt like record time.

And when I got home? I had two things on my mind: a nice hot bath and Gavin Kingsley.

• • •

Sinking into a bubble bath that was almost too hot, I released a sharp breath.

I’d wanted to unwind, give myself a chance to relax before I revisited the website, but even thinking about it made my shoulders tense.

On the About Us page, there hadn’t been much information, just a picture of three men, all of whom looked relatively similar in that they were stunningly attractive with bright, inquisitive eyes. Gavin stood in the middle, his smile a little less warm and open than that of the others.

I closed my eyes, thinking of the way he’d dropped his card into the jar at the coffee shop.

It had been on purpose. There was no doubt.

He’d wanted someone—maybe me?—to know the truth. That he was the president of what appeared to be a rather kinky dating site.

I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. All these months, I’d fantasized about him being some sexy attorney or investor, not a man involved in something so depraved.

From what I could gather on the website, it wasn’t a sleazy operation where money exchanged hands for sex. It was more upscale than that—a CEO needs a date for a charity gala type of thing.

But, still. It was called Forbidden Desires. Surely some secret fantasies were being acted out. Surely it wasn’t all innocent. It reeked of rich, powerful men who got what they wanted, and took it by force when necessary.

My skin broke out into goose bumps despite the warm water.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath through my nostrils, I lifted my favorite novel from its resting place beside the tub, opened the worn pages, and pushed the swirling thoughts from my brain.

My damp fingers soothed the deep crease on the dog-eared page as my eyes skimmed the words. I nearly knew the whole thing by heart.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. Pablo Neruda’s “Sonnet XVII” was a favorite, and his words slid through me like a knife through softened butter.

After reading a few pages but not absorbing much, I stepped from the tub and toweled off. My mind was still firmly on that silky business card I’d nabbed earlier.

My old house was drafty and cold, so I wrapped myself in a plush floor-length robe before wandering to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of chocolate milk from the carton in the fridge.

Simply wishing I had the courage to take a leap wasn’t going to change my situation. The only thing that could change the course of my destiny was action.

And as scared as I was, I was more scared not to try . . . more scared of never knowing what the man behind those piercing hazel eyes was like.

Grabbing my phone from the counter, I opened the website that had taunted me all day, hovering my finger over the screen.

With the information I’d already uncovered, I should be afraid. I should run the other way—throw away his business card and erase him from my memory. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it, so I did the one thing I knew I shouldn’t.

I took a deep breath and clicked the Contact Us icon.

Gavin.

“Alyssa? Can you get your ass in here?” Fuck. “Please?”

I smirked at myself, proud that I’d asked nicely this time. She’d given me hell last week, said she was tired of the way I barked orders through the intercom all day.

She was the best executive assistant in the city of Boston, and didn’t hesitate to let me know when I was out of line, which was often. I couldn’t risk her deserting me. So, like it or not, I needed to mind my manners now and again.

“Mr. Kingsley.” Alyssa raised her eyebrows as she entered my office and stopped beside my desk. “You rang?”

I met her gaze and held out a single sheet of paper.

“Our newest client is Troy Drake.” When she simply leveled me with a blank stare, I prompted, “Tech CEO, and cousin to the billionaire entrepreneur Colton Drake?”

She shook her head. “I’m not familiar.”

“Doesn’t matter. My point is that he’s an important client.”

Her light eyes flashed with understanding and she nodded, making her black ponytail swing behind her narrow face. “Of course, sir. I’m happy to pair him with whichever woman he desires.”

“Good.” I released a heavy sigh. Not that I’d expected Alyssa to put up a fight. She might not have been regularly obedient, but she knew when things counted, and this client definitely did.

Troy Drake had already given me a fat deposit, and I wanted him happy. He’d just recently moved to the East Coast, said he didn’t know anyone yet. Plus, he was wealthy beyond belief, with deep pockets and even deeper connections. If we made him a satisfied client, I had a feeling he’d not only stay with us for years to come, but would also refer his colleagues our way.

Not that we were desperate for business—quite the opposite, actually. After five years in business, my brothers and I were now clearing eight figures annually, and the upside was limitless. But being from the wrong side of the tracks and building our wealth from nothing bred a constant hunger for more. We could never allow ourselves to get too comfortable or to lose focus.

As Alyssa stepped away from my desk, I held up my hand, silently asking her to stay put.

“What’s the problem?” she asked, more than a little familiar with my mannerisms by now.

I pinched the bridge of my nose between two fingers and met her narrowed gaze again. “He’s been through the database, and no one struck his fancy.”

Alyssa blinked twice. “No one?”

Our girls were top notch. I should know; I’d sampled a few of them myself. But this guy was young, attractive, and loaded, and he certainly wasn’t desperate for a date. He had come to us because wanted something special. Something discreet. A sure thing.

And I wanted to provide it. It was kind of my thing. I’d never met a client I couldn’t turn into a satisfied customer, and had never met a woman I couldn’t bed. I didn’t want things to change now, not right when I was on the cusp of something great.

“I have an idea,” Alyssa said, grinning like she knew something I didn’t. “I may have someone in mind, actually. There’s a new girl here for an interview with Sonja right now. She could be perfect. Articulate. Demure. Very pretty.”

I nodded. “Perfect. Send her in when they’re through.”

Alyssa paused but nodded all the same. I didn’t often interview the girls myself, but I had a special interest in keeping this client happy. She left, closing the heavy mahogany door behind her, and I turned my attention back to my in-box.

A few seconds later, the door opened again and my younger brother, Cooper, strolled into my office with his hands in his pockets and an easy grin on his face.

“Hey,” he said, either not noticing or not caring that I hadn’t invited him in and was clearly busy.

Annoyed, I glared at him. “What do you want, Cooper?”

He chuckled and slid into the leather chair across from me. “Nice way to greet me, asshole. I just wanted to tell you the corporate quarterly tax payment is going to be slightly higher than we projected. But not to worry, we have the funds to cover it.”

“And why is it going to be higher than anticipated?”

He shrugged. “We’re making more money than expected. It’s a good thing.”

I waited, knowing Cooper was about to crack a joke or tell me about his latest exploit with one of the girls. It was his afternoon ritual, despite the fact that he knew it annoyed me. Though, to be fair, half my annoyance had to do with the fact that Cooper, six years younger than me, still had that playful quality those of us past thirty seemed to lose.

My intercom buzzed again.

“Mr. Kingsley?” Alyssa’s crisp voice blared over the speaker. “A Miss Emma Bell is finished with Sonja. Shall I send her in?”

Who? Oh, right. Probably the potential escort for Mr. Drake.

“Send her in.”

When Cooper shot me a questioning glance, I shook my head. “You can stay. This should just take a minute.”

The door opened, and in walked five and a half feet of luscious curves and a body built for sin balanced precariously on a pair of black stilettos. My cock gave a twitch, eager to say hello.

Finally, I lifted my gaze to her face, and all the breath left my lungs in a whoosh.

It was the girl from the coffee shop.

What the fuck is she doing here?

She was a classic girl-next-door type. A walking wet dream. Someone I had no right to desire, but I wanted all the same.

I could have ended this a long time ago, could have chosen a different coffee shop, could have used that overpriced espresso machine sitting on my kitchen counter, yet I’d done none of those things. And instead of putting her out of my mind, I’d left my business card on a whim, hoping she’d miss my cue or ignore it.

And perversely hoping she wouldn’t.

Now, here she was, and I felt like I’d been kicked in the chest. We’d been building to this moment for too long—something had to give. And damn if it wasn’t sexy the way she’d taken matters into her own hands. It was ballsy, and I couldn’t deny it. I was intrigued.

I glanced at her, looking for recognition in her eyes, but if she knew we’d met before, she certainly didn’t show it. Instead, her hands were clasped patiently in front of her, forcing her cleavage together in a perfect little vee as she stared past me blankly.

Was it just an act, the same way I’d pretended not to notice her every morning at the coffee shop had been? Or was she toying with me?

All my senses were humming, on high alert, and I was more interested in something than I’d been in a long time. Energy buzzed in the air around us, and I took a moment to compose myself.

Chewing on her lower lip, she stopped in front of my desk.

“Miss Bell?” I asked, snapping out her name curtly.

She gave me a tight nod, her eyes not yet daring to meet mine.

“Gavin Kingsley, and this is my younger brother, Cooper.”

Her eyes locked with mine at last, and my gut clenched at the determination blazing in that steely sapphire gaze.

“Sit down.” I hadn’t intended the command to come out so briskly, but it had, and she immediately lowered herself into the seat across from me and beside Cooper. With another surge, my cock swelled again at her willingness to obey my commands.

Down, boy.

“What brings you to Forbidden Desires today?” I asked, my voice cool.

She opened her mouth to speak, but when only a soft whimper came out, she cleared her throat to start again.

If she was going to act like we didn’t know each other, far be it from me to spoil her ruse.

“Would you like something to drink?” I asked with a smile.

“No, thank you.”

It was the first time I’d ever heard her voice outside of her usual order. It was a potent combination of feminine and sweet, one that had once brought me to my knees.

“Tea, perhaps?” I couldn’t help the smirk tugging at my lips as I waited to see if she’d react to that.

She shook her head, though by the way her eyes flashed, I knew the joke hadn’t escaped her. “I’m fine.”

“Then please enlighten us.” I gestured for her to go ahead.

Cooper’s eyes narrowed, and I knew what he was thinking. Why the fuck are you being such a dick?

“Sir?” she asked, her gaze confused as she tried to understand what I wanted from her.

“Why are you here at Forbidden Desires, Miss Bell?”

“I was . . . intrigued. By your website.” She paused again, weighing her words. “I thought I’d come in and see what you had to offer.”

About nine inches of hard—

I cleared my throat and cut that thought short. Leaning forward, I placed my palms flat on my desk. “I’m sorry, but I’m not buying it. A beautiful woman like yourself, what could you possibly be doing here?”

“I—”

“You need money, is that it?”

Her eyes narrowed. “No, nothing like that.” Her attention flicked to Cooper, whose narrowed gaze was still trained on me.

“What then?” I pressed. “What is it that you’re looking for?”

Watching me intently for several more seconds, she drew a steadying breath that made her nostrils flare slightly. She seemed to be gathering her inner strength.

“Adventure.”

She hurled the word with enough force to tell me that this one had spirit. There was the backbone I’d been wondering about.

This was ridiculous. I was sure that my clients—including Drake—would eat this woman for breakfast.

It was exactly that thought that made me want to usher her right out the door. Since the second she’d walked in, one realization had become clear. I couldn’t have her. I wanted her too much. Giving in to a clawing need like this would ruin us both. That much I knew from experience. But for some strange reason, the thought of anyone else having her made my hands clench into fists.

Leaving my card had been a grave error on my part. I’d gotten cocky, thought I could handle it, but I was dead wrong. Now to get her out of my sight before I couldn’t resist the urges that were stirring deep inside.

“Sorry, but I can’t help you.” I rose from my desk and she mirrored my stance, rising to her feet on shaky heels.

“Surely, that’s your job, Mr. Kingsley,” she said softly. “To cater to people’s . . . desires?”

Our tense standoff stretched out for several seconds, during which Emma refused to back down and my cock twitched in interest yet again.

Fuck.

I had too much to lose now, too many people counting on me. She was a distraction. And in my line of work, she was one I couldn’t afford. I needed her gone.

“Certain dark things are meant to be explored in secret, don’t you think?” she asked, her voice gaining confidence. When my gaze flitted to hers, a smile unfurled on her lips.

“One point on which we well agree, Miss Bell.”

Even as the warning bells blared in my head, I couldn’t seem to force myself to make her go.