Page 24 of Forbidden Confessions, Volume 2 (The Forbidden Volumes #1)

Vanessa

A s soon as Rush steps in the shower, I force myself to roll out of bed.

The temptation to lie here on the sheets that smell like us and coax Rush into pleasuring me again is high, but we’ll have time for that—lots of it—starting tonight.

My rent is paid up through the end of the month, so I have the luxury of moving out slowly.

I only need to pack the essentials now. And my lease is up in a few months. But that’s not my hesitation.

It’s Daddy. How will he feel when he finds out I have a boyfriend and it’s serious?

I have no illusions. He’s got someone watching over me.

He always does. It makes him feel better, and I’ve never minded because I know he only wants me to be safe.

I’ve suspected for a while that he placed Mrs. Crafton across the street to keep tabs on me…

just in case. The spy business is dangerous, and he’s worried his life-or-death missions will spill over and put me at risk.

Has Mrs. Crafton already told Daddy that Rush spent the night?

The thought makes me wince. The news would go over better if it came from me.

But since he didn’t leave me a direct number to reach him, I can only call the emergency contact he made me promise I’d program into my phone before he left.

Hopefully, whoever answers will relay the message that I want to speak to Daddy quickly.

And maybe they can assure me that my father has simply been busy rather than captured, wounded… or worse.

With trembling fingers, I reach for my device.

I don’t want to worry or startle my father.

But I need to be honest. And now I’m just procrastinating.

I fear he’ll be somewhere between enraged and sad to learn that his little girl is a woman now who’s found her own man.

But I hope he’ll understand since Daddy wants me to be happy.

Letting out a breath, I press the button. The phone rings in my ear.

Seconds later, I hear another device ringing in the room, coming from the side of the bed where Rush shed his pants.

It has to be a coincidence. Maybe it’s the hotel calling him because there’s a security problem and he’ll have to report in to work. I expected this weekend to be rowdy.

But what if the ringing phone isn’t a coincidence?

Frowning, I hang up and wait.

The ringing pealing from Rush’s pants pocket stops.

So does my heart.

Is it possible Rush works for Daddy? That he’s the one sent to watch over me?

I press the button again. The ringing across the room resumes.

As if I’m on autopilot, I head straight for his pants and find the device. It’s still ringing when I lift it.

On my phone, I disconnect the call again. In my other hand, the ringing stops.

That son of a bitch.

All this time, I assumed Mrs. Crafton was my watchdog, an older version of my aunt. The grandmother figure I never had. But no…

Daddy sent someone I’ve been crushing on. Who I once kissed. Who I work with. Or is his job at the hotel just a cover? It has to be.

And I’m so furious.

My father didn’t just send someone reliable to guard me this time. He sent a spy, like him—a master of disguises, cover stories, misdirection, mind games, and manipulation.

Is any of what Rush and I have real? Or did he move into my bed—and my heart—to benefit whatever fucking op he’s working on with Daddy?

“Vanessa!” Rush shouts as he dashes out of the bathroom wrapped in nothing but a towel.

Water drips off every hard, rigid muscle of his shoulders, chest, and abs, darkening his ink and adding a sheen to his golden skin that makes my belly clench.

I shouldn’t let myself be distracted by the gorgeous man candy.

He’s clearly learned to use his ripped body to seduce information from contacts and bamboozle wide-eyed idiots.

Like me.

Rush played me. I need to be angry about that, not wishing he’d drop the towel, take me in his arms, and make me feel good again while he assures me that he loves me.

And what if I get pregnant?

“We need to talk, little girl. I need to tell you?—”

“That you work for my father?” I spit, holding my phone in one hand and what looks like a burner phone, which I retrieved from Rush’s pocket, with the other. “I figured that out.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“So you don’t work for Daddy?”

He curses under his breath. “Listen to me. I?—”

“So that’s a yes. When were you going to tell me?”

“Did you call that phone?” He points to the burner.

“Answer my question first. When were you going to tell me that you work for my father?”

“Once we were settled and comfortable together.”

“Bullshit.” I set the burner phone on the nightstand, then I realize I’m naked.

I feel too exposed, so I rustle around for my robe, then belt it tight around my middle.

“You didn’t have sex with me because you want me or have feelings for me.

You did it for the job, didn’t you? Somehow, deflowering me advanced your mission.

I hope it wasn’t too much of a hardship. ”

When I turn to leave the room, he pulls me back. “That’s not true. I love you.”

My stupid heart wants to believe that, but I can’t be swayed. I may not understand exactly how and why the game is played, but I know enough to know I’m in dangerous water.

And Rush is the shark circling me, smelling blood.

“No. You’re a spy. Which also makes you a liar, a player, and an unreliable prick.” Overcome, I struggle past tears. “Was any of it real? The way you looked at me? The things you said? Or am I just another mark you had to seduce for the mission?”

“Every fucking word was real. Everything I felt, everything I said—that was me, not the job.”

Do I dare believe him? He’s trained to lie, to make people trust him, to say exactly what they need to hear. If I let him stay, how would I ever know the difference between Rush the man and Rush the operative? “Get out.”

“Vanessa…” He rushes toward me. “Little girl. Don’t?—”

“Now.” I snatch up the burner phone and throw it at his chest, but of course it bounces off his solid flesh the way a quarter would bounce off those tight, tempting abs. “Or I’m calling the police.”

I don’t know if that threat will actually do anything, but the big boys usually leave the locals in the dark, and at the very least, the officers of the SAPD will put a monkey wrench in whatever Rush and Daddy have schemed.

“All right.” He suddenly sounds very reasonable. I don’t trust it. “I’ll be out of your hair in two minutes.”

Just like that, he’s giving up on me. On us.

Of course he is. There was never any “us” to start with. The worst part? I gave him everything. My virginity, my heart, my trust. And he took it all while knowing exactly who I was and why he was really there.

“Good.” I try not to cry.

I’ll probably love Rush forever. Or the idea of him, anyway.

The man I thought he was. It will take me a while to mourn his loss.

But this sex god in a skimpy white towel—no, I mean this asshole—in front of me?

I’ll forget him in no time. Like, I’ve already forgotten him.

He’s just a memory. I’m ready for the next man.

And you called him a liar?

Telling the voice in my head to shut up, I disappear into the powder bath with my clothes, toss them on, and emerge in time to find Rush completely dressed, keys in hand, looking both pissed and determined.

But his dark eyes are still pleading with me. “This is a bad idea. Whatever you think is going on between us?—”

“Nothing.”

“You’re wrong, but besides that, someone broke into your place yesterday. I need to figure out what’s happening, secure your cottage, and keep you safe.”

“Do your job, you mean. You can do it outside.” I stomp down the hall and straight to the front door, pulling it wide open for Rush.

He sighs as he walks out. “You’re making a mistake. It’s still dangerous?—”

“If something happens, I’ll call the police. They won’t work their way inside my panties in the name of ‘protecting’ me. Besides, if you’ve been watching me every moment of every day for the last seven months, then I doubt you’ll go far. Just forget what I look like naked.”

Rush grabs me by the nape and pulls me so close I can smell the scent of soap on his skin and see his long, black lashes spiked from the shower spray.

I get weak-kneed. “That is never going to happen. I’m going to fix this clusterfuck of a misunderstanding.

By tonight, I’ll be back in your bed, deep inside your body, little girl. You’re not getting rid of me.”

The low taunt of his voice twists my heart on its way down to my pussy and claws me with need. God, even knowing he deceived me, why can’t I stop wanting him?

Stubbornly, I press my mouth into a militant line, then give his chest a good shove. He stumbles onto the porch, giving me just enough time to lock the front door.

And next time he comes knocking, I swear I’ll have whipped up plenty of anger and fortitude so that I won’t be the least bit tempted to let him in.

As I stare through the peephole at him marching down my walkway, his brawny arms swinging and his long legs eating up the ground—as his fine ass moves with confidence—I’m not convinced this is a promise I can keep.