A Second Look: A Forbidden Second Chance Romance Read online

  “What does that mean?” I asked her. She stopped and gave me a dry look.

  “It means I’m surprised I didn’t see some model walking out of your house half-dressed this morning.”

  “I got some offers,” I admitted. “But none of them were interesting.”

  “You’re still gross,” she said, her face wrinkled up in distaste.

  “You’re still mean,” I said to her. She crossed her arms over her chest, and I couldn’t help but to stare as a bead of sweat ran down her neck, disappearing between her breasts. I found myself wanting to lick it up, taste her skin, lead up to her mouth the way I had thought of so often, even in her absence.

  “What was the point of this?” she asked as we slowed to a walk together along the path.

  “I just wanted to find out if you’re still determined to kick my ass in everything we do.”

  “Always,” she said.

  “Good,” I said to her. “So now I get to ask you questions.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You think my time is free?” I asked her. She gave me an incredulous look.

  “I offered to pay you—”

  “And I told you I don’t need the money. I want to know what you’ve been up to.”

  “You haven’t even answered any of my questions yet.”

  “Not true. I told you what I did and why I do it. And you—became a journalist. Not what I expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “Something that puts a gun in your hands,” I said to her. I noted the look on her face, how something flickered over her features before they went even again.

  “I always liked to write.”

  “You did,” I said. “You were a brilliant writer.”

  “So I became a journalist,” she said.

  “I see,” I said. “And how do you like it?”

  She said nothing, but started to jog again. I followed her, but she sped up every time I got to her side. I sped up as well, meeting her strides, and eventually she stopped in her tracks.

  “I’m not playing this game with you,” she said. “Are you going to do the profile or not?”

  “I am,” I said. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  “I doubt that,” she said.

  “Do you want to know my most intimate secrets?” I asked her. “I can tell you those. Pillow talk.”

  She rolled her eyes at me.

  “No more jogs. Let’s go back to your place and do the interview.”

  “That’s all you want? An interview?”

  “No,” she said. “But that’s the place to start.”

  “And what else do you want from me?”

  “I’m going to spend some time with you,” she said, a begrudging tone to her voice. I laughed.

  “You don’t sound so excited about it. I’ll make it fun.”

  “I’m sure you will,” she said as we turned to walk back towards the house.

  “So your job—”

  “My turn to ask the questions,” she said.

  “That’s fair. What do you want to know?”

  “I’m waiting until we get back. I want to record your answers.”

  “So you don’t want to talk on the way back,” I said.

  “Nope,” she said crisply.

  “Wanna race?” I asked her.

  “Race?” she asked, brow furrowed.

  “Good luck,” I said to her, darting ahead. I heard her make a noise of frustration behind me and thought for a moment she’d just keep walking, but then I felt her brush past me effortlessly, watched as she left me in the dust. I laughed and sped up, catching up to her only when she had already stopped at the house. She was leaned forward and catching her breath, and when she looked at me I could have sworn I saw a little smile on her lips. It was gone as soon as it came, though, and she wiped her forehead with her hand.

  “Let’s go in,” she said. I kept my eyes on her as we went around the house and to the front. Once we were inside, I ran upstairs, grabbed her a towel and brought it back down. I regretted it when she wiped the sweat from her glistening skin, taking her seat at the table in the kitchen. I went to the counter to make coffee as she sat there, looking around the place with awe on her face.

  “Do you live here alone?”

  “Yes.” I said. “Sometimes Daniel stays in one of the guest rooms, but—”

  “Who’s Daniel?”

  “He’s my personal assistant,” I said, filling up the coffee maker with water.

  “And you have sleepovers?”

  “Oh yeah,” I said, turning around to face her. “Pillow fights and everything.”

  “Do you both wear tiny nightgowns?”

  “He does. I prefer flannel.”

  She laughed then, covering her mouth with her hand. I grinned at her and passed her a cup of coffee as she reached into her bag and pulled out a notebook and a recorder. She put it on the table between us as I sat down across from her.

  “So,” she said, “you run a jewelry business.”

  “An empire,” I reminded her.

  “Right. How did you start the business?”

  “I bought my first piece at an estate sale right out of high school,” I lied. “Had no idea how much it was worth. Sold it and gained a fortune.”

  “How much?”

  “I got eighty-thousand for it,” I said. Her eyes widened.

  “For a piece of jewelry you got at an estate sale?” she asked, looking like she didn’t quite believe me.

  “Yes,” I said, though I hadn’t bought the piece at all. I had lifted the necklace from an upscale antique store, having no idea that the theft would end up guiding my path in life.

  “And then what?”

  “I enjoyed having it. I enjoyed selling it. So I used the money to buy more and things just built from there.”

  “How much are you worth, if you don’t mind me asking?” she asked.

  “My business is valued at twelve billion,” I told her. She gave a low whistle.

  “All from a random piece of jewelry. Lucky you.”

  “Lucky me,” I said, flashing her a grin. “Is it my turn to ask a question?”

  “No,” she said.

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Don’t care,” she said. I chuckled.

  “Fine. But you’ll answer them eventually.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “Why am I doing this interview then?”

  “Because you crave attention. And it’ll probably get you laid.”

  “Got anyone in mind for that?” I asked her. She met my eye, blushed and looked quickly away, sipping her coffee.

  “Tell me what you do in a typical day,” she said, brushing past the question.

  “I go to work, visit a store, come home,” I said. “Nothing interesting.”

  “You live in the tabloids. You’re always going out,” she said. “But you haven’t—”

  She cut herself off.

  “I haven’t what?”

  “You haven’t been in the news for a while.”

  “I’m laying low,” I said to her.

  “Yet you threw this ridiculous party.”

  “I did,” I said. “Gotta mix it up sometimes.”

  “I see,” she said. Her eyes met mine again and locked there, her lips parting as she stared at me. I drank her in, marveling at how beautiful she had turned out, even more so than when we were in school together. We stared at each other for a long moment and she licked her lips, then cleared her throat and looked back down at her notes.

  “Eve,” I said. “Do you remember the last time we saw each other?”

  “Last night? Yeah.”

  “No, before that. The night of our graduation.”

  “I barely recall,” she said. I laughed.

  “Why don’t I believe that?”

  “Because you’re full of yourself.”

  “So you do remember the kiss,” I said. She said nothing, but glared at me.


  “I still think about what you taste like,” I said to her. I saw her take a deep breath and stand up.

  “That’s all for today,” she said.

  “We’ve barely—”

  “Tomorrow,” she said. “I need—”

  “A moment. I understand,” I said to her. “You go gather yourself. You look all hot and bothered. I have somewhere to be soon, anyway.”

  “Hmph,” she said, turned around and left. I chuckled as I watched her get into her car, making note of the fact that I could still get under her skin and make her blush like I used to.

  Chapter 6: Eve

  I left Sebastian’s without really leaving. Instead, I parking down the street and waited for him to pull out. In the meantime, I tried to keep my head from going to places I didn’t want it to go—all I could think about, though, was the way Sebastian had looked at me, like he wanted to take my clothes off, lay me down and do all the things I had been thinking about since I first laid eyes on his charming smile this morning. It bothered me that I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his gaze had felt on my skin, like a caress, a slip of a hand over my neck, my shoulders and my breasts. I focused instead on what he had said about how he had initially begun to build his fortune. Something about it didn’t seem quite right, and I was glad that he’d said that he was going somewhere this afternoon. I waited impatiently for him to come out, glad when he did, following him slowly as he made his way to the far side of town— one of the two wealthy neighborhoods that capped the city, including the one he lived in.

  I watched as he pulled up in front of an old storefront; a building that was small and quaint. The sign on the front labeled it as an antique shop, and I watched with interest, quickly taking photos as Sebastian disappeared inside. I wondered if it was the same one that he had spoken about earlier and made note of the address. I waited until he left and decided to go home, not wanting to go in the store immediately after him. At home, I showered and changed, watching myself as I peeled off my clothes until I was naked in front of the mirror. My skin was flushed, nipples hard and pink, the curls between my thighs glistening wet. I grumbled and got dressed again, glancing at the clock, making sure that enough time had passed before I left.

  I made it to the antique store and went inside, holding my breath as I looked around. I had never been anywhere with such beautiful pieces—jewelry in cases on the walls, intricately carved wooden furniture, a shining suit of armor in the corner. I went to the desk to see a small, old man with a pair of glasses on, peering closely at what looked to be an oversized diamond.

  “Excuse me, sir,” I said. He finally looked up at me, his eyes looking massive beneath the thick lenses of his glasses.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “I was sent here to pick something up,” I said. “Sebastian Cunningham brought it in earlier.”

  “The knife?” he asked, a look of confusion passing over his face. “Why would he—”

  “He likes to impress pretty girls,” I said, shrugging. The old man laughed.

  “That he does,” he said. “But why would he send you? It’s not exactly safe for you to be carrying something so valuable around. Usually he sends somebody armed.”

  “Usually?” I asked.

  “Yeah, about once or twice a week,” the man said.

  “Can I see the knife?” I asked him. He nodded, reached down and rummaged through a drawer before pulling out a shiny dagger with rubies at the hilt. I stared at it in wonder as I picked it up in my hand, looking it over closely.

  “Do you have the money?” the man asked. I looked down at him.

  “Yes,” I said, smiling. “I just don’t have it with me.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “I can’t hand that over to you without money, darling,” he said.

  “Oh, I know,” I said to him, placing the dagger back on the counter. “I have plenty of money. I just don’t carry it around with me for the reason you mentioned. Safety.”

  “Send somebody bigger to pick it up, huh?” he said. “And I’m not letting it go for anything under three mil. Tell Sebastian that I don’t hold his shit for free.”

  “I will,” I said. “Thank you.”

  He nodded, peering at my face for a moment.

  “That all?” he asked. I shook my head, turning to leave. When I got home, I wrote down a description of the dagger, then got undressed and got into bed. I fell asleep quickly, thinking of the dagger instead of Sebastian, wondering where it had come from and what it meant that he had dropped it off at a seemingly random, family-owned antique store in the opulent west side of town.

  I dreamt of Sebastian as I fell asleep, dreams where I didn’t feel inhibited around him. Instead, I rode his cock, bouncing up and down on his lap while he watched me with teasing eyes. It felt so real, especially when I reached down to rub my clit as I took him over and over. I woke up as I came, my body shuddering on the bed, breathing heavy and sharp. I wiped the sweat from my neck and laid down again, sighing, falling into a blessedly blank sleep.

  Chapter 7: Sebastian

  I picked up the phone in my office, pressing it lazily to my ear, my feet propped up on the desk. I had no real work to do at that moment—everything around me operated a little too smoothly, and half the time I was bored, with nothing to maintain my attention.

  “Yeah?” I asked over the phone.

  “This is Bill,” the man from the antique store said.

  “Bill,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

  “I was just wondering if you were going to send that girl back or if you’re gonna send some muscle. She was unarmed, and tiny to boot. Didn’t have the money, either,” Bill said. “I didn’t want to give her the knife—”

  “Why not?” I asked him curiously, deciding to make him think that I knew what he was talking about. “I told her to come armed.”

  “As far as I could tell, she wasn’t,” the man said. “Listen, I don’t mean to get in your business, but sending a girl like that over here is stupid and dangerous business. I’m not gonna have you jeopardize my place. Don’t send her again.”

  “I’m sorry, Bill,” I said, hiding my confusion. I didn’t want to ask him who he was talking about and put her in danger. I had a feeling I knew who it was, even as he spoke.

  “It was an error in judgment,” I said. “I’ll send Tim later.”

  “Good. Tim is good,” Bill grumbled, and hung up the phone. I pressed it to my lips and thought about Eve, small and clever, wondering just how deep she was going into her profile of me. I wondered how close she was to finding out that the dagger was stolen, and wondered what it would mean if she did.

  I picked up the phone to call her, unsure of whether to ask her or not. When I heard her voice, I decided not to. She sounded disgruntled the moment she picked up the phone.

  “Sebastian,” she groused.

  “Hi, Eve,” I said. “You sound like you’re enjoying the morning.”

  “Please tell me you have something more productive for us to do than going for a run together,” she said.

  “You seemed to enjoy that run, if I remember correctly.”

  “What are we doing?” she asked.

  “A couple of things. There’s a party tonight—”

  She groaned, cutting me off.

  “Another ball?”

  “No, this one is more casual. But I’m afraid I’ll have to introduce you as my date.”

  “Why?” she asked suspiciously.

  “They wouldn’t take kindly to me bringing press to one of our gatherings,” I said. “Trust me, you don’t want to go there as a reporter.”

  “Okay,” she said hesitantly. “What’s it going to be like?”

  “Casual. There will probably be twenty people.”

  “Who?”

  “My brother will be there. A few other people. You’ll find out,” I said to her. She sighed.

  “How is Eddy?”

  “He’s good,” I said. “He’s doing his own thing. Y
ou know Eddy.”

  “He was always so funny. Such a good kid,” she said.

  “He’s twenty now.” I said.

  “And what is the other thing that you wanted to do today?”

  “I want to take you to my favorite store,” I said.

  “A jewelry store?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “You want to go with me in my daily life. I love to visit the stores.”

  “Fine,” she said. “I’ll meet you at your house in half an hour.”

  “Okay, Eve,” I said to her. “Looking forward to it.”

  She said nothing else as she hung up the phone, and I stood up to slip into my jacket, leaving the office to go home. Eve arrived there a few moments later, and when I saw her I felt something shift in my chest, especially when she met my eye with a furious blush on her cheeks.

  “What is that look all about?” I asked, my body responding to the sweet look of shyness and embarrassment on her features.

  “Nothing,” she said quickly, her eyes darting away from me. I found myself lifting my hand to her chin, turning her face back towards mine. My cock grew hard just seeing the intensity there, and it took everything in my power not to pull her in for a rough, hungry kiss.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  For a moment she only stared at me, her lip falling open, speechless. Then she turned her face and I let her go, inviting her inside. She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Let’s go to the jewelry store,” she said.

  “You don’t want to come in? Have coffee?”

  “No,” she said crisply. I shook my head in exasperation as I followed her to the drive where my car was parked. She climbed in without a word.

  “Shouldn’t you be asking me questions?” I asked her when I got to the other side of the car.

  “I’m observing,” she said.

  “Observing me drive.”

  “To find out if you follow all the driving laws,” she said. I laughed.

  “Am I passing?”

  “Not if you keep staring at me,” she said. I turned my eyes to the road, having not even realized that I’d looked away.

  “How is it you still dislike me after all these years?” I asked her.