Falling For The Forbidden

CHAPTER 3

Olivia's POV

Olivia spent the next few days trying to focus on work, burying herself in client meetings, case briefs, and late nights at the office. It helped—momentarily. During the day, she could almost forget the way Ryan had looked at her, the way his words had wrapped around her like a promise. But at night, when the silence crept in and the chaos of her day slowed, thoughts of him slipped through the cracks, relentless and unavoidable.

It had been a week since their conversation in the garden, and she hadn't heard from him since. No texts. No casual messages under the guise of "family check-ins." Nothing. But that didn't stop her from thinking about him.

Sitting in her office, Olivia ran a hand through her hair, feeling the tension in her shoulders. Her assistant had just dropped off a new file, one that would keep her busy for hours, but her mind wasn't cooperating. She glanced at the clock—nearly 7:30 PM—and decided it was time to call it a night.

She packed up her things, grabbed her coat, and headed for the elevator, mentally planning out a quiet evening at home. A glass of wine, maybe some takeout, and a good book to distract herself. But as the elevator doors slid shut, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She glanced down at the screen, her heart skipping a beat.

Ryan: **Dinner? I'm in the area. **

Her fingers hovered over the screen, uncertainty coursing through her. After everything that had happened, after the way they'd left things hanging between them, she wasn't sure if meeting him was a good idea. But curiosity—and something else, something stronger—pushed her to respond.

**Where? **

The reply came almost instantly: **That little Italian place you like. I'll meet you there in twenty. **

Olivia stared at the message, her pulse quickening. It was just dinner. A family dinner, she told herself, even if they both knew it was more than that. With a sigh, she stepped out of the building and hailed a cab, her mind racing the entire ride over.

---

By the time she arrived at the restaurant, Ryan was already there, seated at a corner table with a bottle of red wine between two glasses. He looked up as she approached, that familiar smirk on his lips as he stood to greet her.

"You're late," he teased lightly, pulling out her chair.

"You're the one who showed up unannounced," Olivia countered, taking a seat. She glanced at the wine, then at him, her brow raised. "Celebrating something?"

"Just dinner," Ryan replied, though there was something in his voice—an edge, a challenge. He poured her a glass, watching her carefully as he did. "Unless you think there's something else worth celebrating."

Olivia ignored the bait, picking up the glass and taking a small sip. "So," she began, trying to keep the conversation neutral, "how's work going? Still keeping you busy?"

Ryan leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "Busy enough. But I've been thinking about you."

Her grip on the wine glass tightened, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. "Ryan—"

"Don't," he interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. "Don't pretend like you haven't been thinking about me too."

Olivia set the glass down, her mind racing. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go. They were supposed to keep things civil, keep things simple. But nothing about Ryan had ever been simple.

"We can't keep doing this," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever this is, it's not—"

"It's not what?" Ryan asked, his eyes darkening as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "It's not, right? It's not allowed? You keep saying that, but I think you're just scared."

Her breath hitched, the accusation hitting too close to home. "Scared of what?"

Ryan's gaze softened, but the intensity didn't waver. "Of what you feel. Of what we could be if you just stopped fighting it."

Olivia's heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to deny it, wanted to argue, but her body betrayed her, every nerve alive with the truth of his words. He was right—she was scared. Scared of crossing a line she couldn't uncross, scared of what giving in to him would mean for them, for their families, for everything they'd built.

"I can't," she whispered, shaking her head, her voice filled with an emotion she couldn't suppress. "We can't."

Ryan's jaw clenched; his frustration evident. "You keep saying that, but I don't believe you. If you didn't want this—want me—you wouldn't be here."

The truth of it hung in the air between them, undeniable and heavy. She was here. Despite every reason not to be, despite the risks and the complications, she was here. And that, more than anything, terrified her.

Ryan reached across the table, his hand brushing hers lightly, sending a jolt of electricity through her. "Olivia," he said softly, his voice coaxing her, drawing her in, "we can keep pretending this is something we can control. But we both know it's not."

Her breath caught, her eyes locked on his, every rational thought in her mind slipping away as he leaned closer. She should leave. She should walk out of the restaurant right now and never look back.

But she didn't.

---

Later, when they were walking out of the restaurant into the cool night air, Olivia's mind was still reeling. Dinner had been a blur of conversation that danced around the edges of what they both wanted to say but couldn't. She was grateful for the distance between them, for the silence that had settled in once they stepped outside.

"I'll get you a cab," Ryan said, his voice softer now, less charged.

"I'm fine," she replied quickly, not trusting herself to be alone with him any longer than necessary. But as she turned to leave, his hand closed around her wrist, gentle but firm.

"Olivia." His voice was low, intimate in the quiet street. When she looked up, his expression had softened, the teasing gone, replaced by something raw and real. "Don't keep running from this. From us."

Her heart was pounding so loud she was sure he could hear it. "I'm not running," she whispered, though the words felt hollow. She was running. Running from him, from herself, from everything she didn't want to admit.

Ryan let her go, his hand falling away slowly. "You're lying to yourself. And one day, you won't be able to anymore."

With that, he stepped back, his gaze lingering on hers for a moment longer before he turned and walked away. Olivia stood there, frozen in place, her mind spinning as she watched him disappear into the night.

The truth was undeniable now, and it terrified her.

Ryan was right. This wasn't over. And the worst part?

She didn't want it to be.

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