BOOK THREE in the STEAMY FORBIDDEN ROMANCE series -- please read BOOK ONE, Illicit, and BOOK TWO, Explicit, before proceeding with this novel!
Coralie Watson wants--no, needs--a break. As her fame rises, so does her infatuation for Chester, her desi...
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🔥STEAMINESS ALERT—very mild mentions, but we're leading to good stuff, babes🔥
♫ Baby, you don't wanna leave, you'd be sorry, 'cause honestly I can make you feel better, any day Look at what you've done for me, I called it how I see You belong with me ♪ {BANKS—Stick}
Michael agreed to a lunch or a coffee break on Tuesday, depending on Coralie's schedule. She didn't disclose to him what was going on, but she did say she had no clue what her day would look like and couldn't commit to a specific time.
He was happy enough that she'd agreed, he said; and Coralie smiled at the idea of seeing him again.
But that smile soon faded. She spent the weekend stressing over meeting with him, worrying about Ryan or Chester finding out, and panicking about the approaching gig. She was supposed to be resting, but instead she took lengthy walks and jogs, and wrote so much and so often in her journal that her wrist throbbed in pain.
Would Michael see through her request for a break? Would he know she'd been sleeping with not one, but two other men? He hadn't figured it out before, but they hadn't been separated, then. She'd kept her cool, she'd managed to cover her tracks; but this time, she wasn't sure she'd be able to. Bella had told her to keep her mouth shut, but one glance at his sweet innocence, and Coralie would have to confess the truth to him, wouldn't she? Of all three guys, he was the one she'd strung along the most, lied to the most, hurt the most—though he wasn't aware of it yet.
She debated what to say and how to dress all the way up to the day in question. Her outfit ended up being chosen for her—Nikita had told her to wear tight jeans and a low-cut, tight top, because that was the dress-code Mellie had e-mailed the boss about. "Casually racy," Nikita specified in her text-message, claiming she wanted Coralie to get used to the attire, and comfortable performing in it. It wasn't quite what Coralie had planned for; she'd wanted classy, with high-top pants and a short-sleeved top for this first massive performance. But Mellie had a signature style, and according to Nikita, the bar had asked her to stick with that. And they'd notified Nikita that any of her troupe or other performers that night would have to mimic her.
It made sense, but Coralie hated it, and hated it even more as she got ready on Tuesday morning. It was chilly, so she wore a beige trench coat over her attire, but felt naked underneath it. The jeans were a tad too tight, and the top she'd chosen was light, clinging to her as if it were her own skin. As she rode the subway, she kept peering down into her décolleté, wishing she'd brought a change of clothes for her meeting with Michael. How would he react to her showing up like this? Provocative, taunting—he'd call her a tease and be upset that she'd do this while they were on a break.
They'd settled for a sandwich shop a few blocks from her building; it was a local hang-out, and not too busy.
But even if the place had been packed, Michael wasn't hard to spot among the patrons seated at the checkered cloth colored tables. He was by the front door, handsome as ever. As Coralie located him, she slowed her pace—there was something different about him; an edge to his posture, a posh-like vibe to his demeanor she didn't recognize. He didn't sport his skater-style ripped jeans, nor did he wear his customary flannel or t-shirt. No, he looked like a big city businessman taking a lunch break in a classy joint. He was in a crisp auburn shirt, navy slacks, polished shoes. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal his arm tattoos, and he'd cut his hair, leaving it a bit spiky on the edges, with a few longer, loose curls near his temples.
