Page 89 of Forbid It

“No,” she says unconvincingly. “He just said some…anyway it doesn’t matter. I left.”

My jaw tightens, and I curl my arm around her, tucking her into my side as if I can shake some sense into her.

“But now he won’t stop messaging me,” Pip admits with a cry. “Everyday it’s more phone calls. I blocked his number, but he keeps changing it, so I can’t get away.”

Fury tightens in my gut.

“Okay, we need to get a restraining order or something.”

“No, Cass, it’s fine,” she says into my shoulder.

“It’s not fine,” I say firmly. “He’s a fucking asshole, and he needs to be put in his place. God help him if Danny finds out.”

She groans. “Don’t tell him please. I just need him to leave me alone.”

I rub my hand up and down her arm. “We’re going to find you a nice guy, Pip. Not a fucking sleaze-ball. Not an industry guy. You’re going to settle down with a nice farmer. Or a schoolteacher. Ooh, or a sexy priest. The right guy is out there for you Pip, he’s just waiting for you to find him.”

“Can he start looking too, or is that just my job?”

I shrug. “You know what men are like. You might need to help him out.”

She laughs as the last of her tears dry on her cheeks.

“Okay, enough about this. I can’t talk about it anymore.” Pip shakes her head and straightens to her full height. “Now, there are quite a few Rebels in there.” She gestures to the party. “Are you ready to tell me what the hell is going on with you and Robbie King?”

39

ROBBIE

I lean one elbow on the mahogany bar top and loosen my collar as I survey the room. Parties like this are always crowded. Early on in my career, I would have been the life of the party, slumped over a booth with teammates and fans hanging on my every word.

Now, I’m trying to see how small I can fold the little napkin the bartender gave me with my drink.

I scan the crowd for Cassie and spot her red curls bouncing through the crowd, tugging Pip behind her. I smirk to myself as I remember earlier when that green dress was hiked up around her hips, and I pulled her underwear down with my teeth

Luckily, I’m torn from my memories before my erection can make an appearance.

“King, right?” A man leans on the bar beside me. It’s not that I’m not in the mood for small talk, or a fan asking for an autograph, but there’s a time and a place. I take a sip of my whiskey, letting it sit in my mouth before swallowing.

“That’s right.”

The guy shoots me a blisteringly white smile, and thrusts his hand towards me.

“I’m Callum. Our women are friends.”

I blink at him. Our women? Did I accidentally attend a party in 1962?

I don’t take his hand, and he shrugs in his golf coat, shoving his hand through his blonde hair. “Have you seen them at all?”

I take another sip of my drink. I’ve never seen this man before in my life, and I don’t know who his ‘woman’ is, but I have no interest in helping him find her.

He doesn’t let my silence phase him. “What a party, huh? It’s such a Phillipa type of party. Frivolous, you know?”

My eyebrows raise. “I think it’s cool. She probably worked really hard on this.”

Callum waves his hand dismissively. “Well of course. Maybe she should try a hand at party planning when the modeling dries up.”

He says the words ‘party planning’ and ‘modeling’ with the same tone of dripping disdain, and I’m very much done with his man.