Page 53 of Forbidden Forget-Me-Not

Nathaniel exhaled. “I’m flying out at five. There’s a fucking issue with a distributor in Brazil. I’m hoping to be just a couple of days. Do you want to talk tonight? Is this an emergency?”

My chest tightened.

“No, we can talk when you get back,” Goran said.

“Fuck. Now you’re going to make me worry,” Nathaniel grumbled.

“We’re good,” Goran said. “Do you need anything from me while you’re out of town?”

“I was actually going to ask you to cover Euphoria,” Nathaniel continued. “The manager’s been off sick for a couple of nights and now this shipment is going to arrive when I’m away.”

Euphoria was Nathaniel’s most popular club. My stomach twisted with instant jealousy. It shouldn’t have. Goran had worked there countless times when he was shadowing Nathaniel, and I had never cared before. But for whatever reason, I didn’t like the idea of Goran spending the night surrounded by naked women.

“Of course,” Goran said immediately.

My fingers curled at my side.

I heard Savannah approaching and quickly slipped into the spare room before I was caught lingering like the eavesdropper I was. I closed the door softly behind me.

The spare bedroom smelled like clean linen and sea salt with a touch of caramel. It was minimalistic but warm by design. I dropped my shoes beside the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my hands.

My phone buzzed, and I glanced at it, cringing when I saw Father’s name. It had taken longer than I thought, but there it was. I didn’t have to answer to know what he was going to say.

He left a voicemail. But I didn’t listen right away. Instead, I lay back and stared at the ceiling. I counted the rhythm of the waves crashing against the shore. The gentle hush of the water and the rustle of leaves slowly calmed my mind.

I didn’t know how long I stayed like that before I finally gave in and tapped play on the voicemail.

My father’s voice filled the room. Controlled, but with fury coiled just beneath the surface.

“Kaylani, I do not know what is going on with you anymore, but your behavior has been abhorrent. I will not stand for this. I cannot believe you would purposely stain our family name by making such a fool of yourself.”

He made it sound as though I had danced naked on top of a car rather than refuse the advances of a man who made my skin crawl.

“You will apologize to Julian for your rude behavior. Or else.”

The line went dead. No softness. Only disappointment sharpened into a weapon. A reminder of the consequences and how many ways a man like Dimitri Mikhailov could make disobedience both expensive and painful.

There was a light tap at the door. I quickly wiped away the lone tear trailing down my cheek.

“Come in,” I called.

Goran stepped in quietly, already loosening his tie, a folded pile of clothes draped over his arm. He placed them on the bed, and our eyes locked.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.

The silence between us was far louder.

The seconds ticked on.

He looked away first. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

It wasn’t a question.

I stood and stepped toward him, but he shook his head and backed away. That single movement hurt worse than my father’s hand ever had.

I swallowed hard, lifting my chin anyway. “You don’t have to⁠—”

“I do,” he interrupted gently. “I’m not leaving you. But I won’t cross that line in Nathaniel’s home until I’ve spoken to him. He’s leaving on business for a couple of days. I’ll speak to him when he returns.”