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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♫ I don't think you know what I been doing And what I got on, for you to take off ♪ {Little Mix—Notice}
In the seconds it took for the crowd to praise and applaud her, Coralie had to think fast. There had to be a way to prevent the three intrusive conquests from hurrying up to her all at once. They'd put her in this position—having to scramble to ensure none of them met. But no matter how badly she wanted to run off the stage to avoid her problems, she wouldn't get far before being stopped by Bella and Delilah come to congratulate her, or Nikita. And if any of them took up an instant of her time, it would leave room for Michael, Ryan, and Chester to accost her.
The initial part of the solution hit her as she bent down to shake someone's hand in the front row. One of the three prospects knew about the other two. So to warn him first made sense; and she wouldn't have to filter her words or lie. She could tell him to go, to wait, to leave her alone, and hopefully, he'd comprehend why.
Chester. I have to get his attention.
A few spaces down from where she'd kneeled to greet a guest, he was there—blond locks tied at the nape of his neck, hands clapping in fervent admiration, eyes glistening with pride. Those eyes had been closed, earlier, to her relief; but now, they absorbed her, tugged at her soul, drew her to him. Made her want to reconsider restricting him from seeing her. Flashes of their last elevator ride popped into her mind and she nearly lost track of what she needed to do.
She locked eyes with him for the briefest of moments, and shook her head once, widening her gaze. He squinted at her and cocked his head, not understanding. She turned and jutted her chin towards the backstage area, and returned to him to shake her head again.
"Do... not... come... find... me," she mouthed, articulating each word as best as possible. It was too loud to yell—and she worried if she did, the cheers would suddenly stop, leaving her looking stupid and everyone wondering what the hell she meant.
Luckily, Chester seemed to get it, this time. He nodded, and the glow of pride in his expression dissipated. Though others remained standing, still cheering, he fell back into his seat and huffed.
Coralie wanted to growl at him, to ask him to not be a child about this; but did he understand why she didn't want him to meet her backstage? Did he have any clue that his competitors were here, both of them, and she still had no clue how to manage them? And in any case, hadn't they agreed to be distant? Hadn't he received her message that he was blocked, that she needed time?
Why would he do this?
His behavior was a discussion for another time, and she dreaded it.
One down, two to go; she redressed herself and began waving at the throng of people, inferring that she was on the way out.
"Thank you, Coralie," said a voice behind her. She spun to find the announcer from earlier, decked in his plush velvet suit, standing before the microphone, where she'd left it. "Anything you want to say to our guests?" He motioned for her to join him.
