Page 2 of Forbidden Passion
Before pressing the call button, Ciara glanced around her office, seeking refuge in the cool blues and creamy yellows thathad always brought her peace. Normally, these colors enveloped her in a sense of calm, helping her find balance in the chaos of her work. But today, not even the soothing hues could touch the knot of tension in her chest. She knew exactly why. Whenever she had to speak with Falk, something unsettling always stirred within her—something she could only describe as a twisted combination of nervous fluttering, deep irritation, and simmering resentment. It was a cocktail of emotions she hated admitting even existed, much less acknowledging every time his name came up.
She stared down at her phone, feeling the familiar weight of dread settle over her. With a sharp breath, she forced herself to focus, stiffening her resolve. Inhaling deeply, she held the breath for a moment, letting it expand through her chest. Slowly, she released it, trying to exhale her tension along with it.
And then, without allowing herself any more time to think or hesitate, she tapped the button.
The call was answered almost immediately, and the speed of it caught her off guard. Her heart betrayed her with a sudden flutter, an unwelcome sensation she couldn’t explain—didn’t want to explain. Why on earth did hearing his voice, even just the brief greeting, make her pulse quicken? Irritation flooded her in response, making her cheeks flush with heat.
Damn him, she thought. This was just business. Nothing more. But no matter how much she reminded herself of that fact, the unsettled feeling lingered, swirling under the surface like a storm she couldn’t quite outrun.
“Ciara? What’s wrong?” the man’s deep, commanding voice asked after just one ring.
Ciara couldn’t stop the jerk of her heart when he answered his own phone. And why did she feel all trembly andnervous at the sound of that deep voice? It wasn’t a sexy voice, she thought firmly. And that thought was a lie! His voice was sexy. She heard that voice in her dreams. Dreams that left her…breathless and wanting something that was always just out of her reach.
“Ciara?” he prompted again.
She jerked back to the present, her mouth opening for a moment. Pressing a finger to her forehead, Ciara finally pulled herself together, banishing the memories of those bothersome dreams. “Yes. Um…Falk?”
“Ciara, are you okay?”
Why did the immediate concern in his voice make her body quiver? She didn’t even like the man!
“Yes. Yes, of course I’m fine,” she replied, spinning around in her office chair so that she was looking out at the small courtyard she could see through her office window.
“Good. Good.” The relief in his voice sent another one of those unwanted jolts of happiness. A sensation that she tamped down immediately.
“What are you wearing today?”
Automatically, she glanced down at her peach colored sheath dress and matching shoes. The outfit was one of her favorites, but she caught herself and huffed a bit. “My outfit is immaterial to this conversation,” she told him, cringing at how prim she sounded.
His deep, husky laughter made her want to smack him. Of course, he was more than a thousand miles away, so she wasn’t going to get her wish. Not at the moment, at least.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your call then?” he asked and Ciara could picture him leaning back in a leatherchair, as big as her brother’s. Maybe he even propped his feet up on the desk, smiling like some sort of dangerous Cheshire cat.
“I was calling to let you know that I won’t be staying at your hotel in Switzerland for the conference.”
There was a long pause, then he asked, “Is that so?”
She gritted her teeth, wishing that he could see her glare of fury. “I stayed there last time I was in Switzerland.”
Another long pause and Ciara pictured Falk rubbing his chin with his long fingers, contemplating her words. “Were the accommodations not up to your expectations?”
“No!” she gasped, not wanting him to think that the staff at the hotel were lacking in any way. “I mean, yes. The staff and the room were perfect. Your hotel is wonderful. It’s just that…?”
Did he just laugh? Was he laughing at her? Ciara narrowed her eyes, but the flowers in the courtyard weren’t intimidated.
“You’re afraid you might run into me,” he finished for her. “Like last time.”
Ciara swallowed, neither confirming nor denying his accusation. She closed her eyes and clenched the phone more tightly. “Falk, my speech is going to be about wealth inequalities. So staying at your hotel sends the wrong message.”
There was another long pause and she wished that someone would invent a way to reach through the phone lines so that she could throttle the man.
Silence? He had no reaction to her statement?
Ciara fidgeted, tugging the hem of her peach dress over her thighs. Her fingers tightened around the phone as she continued, “Well, that’s all. I just wanted you to know.Personally. From me.” Good grief, that was a completely lame excuse. It sounded as if she were lying. Probably because shewaslying.
“I understand, Ciara,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly. “I’m still looking forward to seeing you at the conference. Would you allow me to take you out for dinner after your speech?”
Dinner? Just the two of them? Ciara trembled at the thought of dining with this man. Sitting across the table with him and seeing him smile, maybe laughing at something she said, and debating issues with him?