Torrid Little Affair (Forbidden Desires #3)

Cooper

“Corinne called out sick again.”

“What do you mean?” I demanded, but Alyssa only blinked back at me.

“She said she’s not coming in. Whatever she’s got must really be bad.”

I tightened my jaw, trying to tamp down the wave of nausea that rolled through me. “I’ll say. That’s the fourth day in a row. Anyway, thanks, Alyssa. You need me to get you a temp to pick up the slack?”

“Nope, I’m good,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “Just thought you’d want to know.”

Alyssa stepped from my office and closed the door softly behind her just in time for me to let out a low breath. I couldn’t understand it.

Calling out of work was one thing. People got sick. But there was something else going on here, something far worse. Corinne had stopped responding to my calls and messages. And now she wasn’t coming into work, either?This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

Those were some serious hoops to jump through to avoid me, which she was definitely doing. But what I couldn’t understand was why.

Our night together on Saturday had been . . . well, beyond amazing. I’d thought about it nearly every free second I had all week, and even some I didn’t. It consumed my thoughts. Her body had been so yielding and soft, so willing and responsive, and when I’d slid into her, I knew that she wanted it as much as I did. Not just the sex but the intimacy, the closeness we’d been working toward these past weeks. I wasn’t delusional. She was feeling all the same things I felt.

But it hadn’t stopped her from slipping out in the morning before I’d woken up.

Spearing a hand through my hair, I shook my head and blew out a sigh. Was it something I’d said? I supposed I could have scared her with my declaration of intent, with my need to be with her. But she’d said she wanted that too.

That she couldn’t have it, but she wanted it.

And what did that even mean? She was a young, beautiful woman with her whole life ahead of her. What was holding her back? I knew, of course, about what had happened when she was in foster care, but if that was what she needed to work through, I would go to counseling with her. I would do anything I could to make it right between us, and by now she had to know that.

So, there was something else, something beyond a fear of commitment. There had to be.

The workday dragged by, and I felt frustrated and more uneasy with each passing hour. By the time five o’clock rolled around, I couldn’t sit still any longer. I stepped from my office and made my way down the hall toward Quinn’s door. I knocked, and when there was no answer, I opened the door to find his office empty.

My stomach squirmed with the slightest trace of guilt, but I made my way toward the filing cabinet all the same. Opening the drawer for personnel, I thumbed my way to the manila folder with Corinne’s name on it.

Like with all the core staff, I’d read her résumé when she was first hired, but I looked it over again, trying to find some clue of what she might be hiding. All the details of her schooling and prior employment checked out with what she’d told me. There were some awards and training she’d never mentioned, but that was normal.

Sighing, I set the sheets down on Quinn’s desk, ready to resign myself to the mystery once and for all, when another piece of paper slipped out of the file folder. I bent low to pick it up and spied Corinne’s neat cursive writing, stark blue against the white sheet, a medical insurance form.

I glanced at it briefly, ready to slide it back where it belonged. But before I got the chance, I caught sight of something that sucked the air from my lungs.

Two little boxes rocked my whole world. One empty, one checked off.

For a second, my brain couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing, and then it became all too real.

Corinne was married.

My head reeling, I glanced lower and found her spouse’s information filled in with that same tidy handwriting.

Aaron O’Neil.

Her roommate.

The man she’d been so desperate that I should never meet. The person she refused to discuss. He was her fucking husband.

Sucking in my cheeks, I shoved the papers back in the file and slammed the metal drawer closed, my heart surging in my chest.

“Aaron fucking O’Neil,” I muttered through gritted teeth.

But it wasn’t enough to rage quietly to myself. I had to make sure she knew what I now knew myself-that she understood what she’d done to me. How, without even trying, she’d made me fall in love with a woman I could never have.

“Son of a bitch,” I murmured under my breath, stalking from my brother’s office and making my way back to my own sanctuary. Slamming the door behind me, I ripped my cell phone from my pocket and scrolled to Corinne’s number.

Beneath the series of unanswered messages I’d left, I added a new one.

You’re. Fucking. Married.

I typed every letter with all the force I could muster before hitting Send and shutting the phone off. Let her sit with what she’d done for a while. Let her know what it felt like to be ignored and avoided.

I was through.

What a fucking idiot. God, how many times was I going to let someone do this to me?

But as much as I tried to compare Corinne to the other women I’d loved, I knew the truth. There would be no bouncing back from this one. No searching for love again. Corinne had broken me.

Within a matter of seconds, my door opened and Gavin appeared, his brows knit together. “What’s going on? Did you mean to slam your door? I-”

“She’s married,” I choked out, raking a hand through my hair.

“What?” Gavin took another step inside the room before shutting the door after himself.

“Corinne. She’s fucking married.”

“What?” He blinked. “Are you serious? You can’t-“