Forbidden Romance by Lena Lucas

1

Daisy

Ididn’t know why I agreed to come with Fiona to this bar. This wasn’t my scene, but I told myself spending New Year’s Eve at home alone, a cheap bottle of champagne, and a sad excuse for a charcuterie board on the coffee table before me, was something only a single middle-aged woman might do who had one too many cats.

Not that there was anything wrong with that, but at twenty-two, I didn’t want to ring in the new year that way once again.

No boyfriend.

No real friends except for Fiona.

And parents who were watching Are You Being Served reruns were as far as my social circle went.

And as soon as I walked into Stryker’s Cigar Bar, I knew this wasn’t a place I’d ever have come by myself. Although there were bans in place for smoking inside establishments, I knew there were exceptions for places such as this—aka places that had money and connections probably. Although no one smoked out in the main area, I noticed, there was the faint scent of smoke in the air, the kind that wasn’t stuffy and cloying but almost sweet. I had to assume there were private rooms in the back somewhere where patrons could drink bourbon and smoke fat cigars.

For one thing, it was fancy, way fancier than my fifty-dollar, off-the-rack black dress called for. The people held crystal glasses of champagne, the women drenched in jewelry and so much makeup I wondered how long it took them to apply it.

And then there was me. A doll made up by Fiona for the occasion. She swiped some red lipstick on my lips, did some chignon thing to my hair, and put these costume-style rhinestone earrings through my lobes. I mean, the effect was nice—really nice. Too nice for me, but even dolled up, I felt wildly out of place.

I didn’t bother asking her why she picked this place. The guy we were heading toward answered that enough.

Blond hair combed back from his forehead.

Crisp, white button-down shirt under a dark suit jacket.

Pair of Dockers.

Shiny dress shoes.

He grinned as Fiona led the way, and I could see the adoration in his eyes as he looked at my best friend. Or maybe it was desire by the way he raked his gaze up and down her body. Either way, he only had eyes for Fiona.

Fiona was a timeless beauty if I’d ever seen one, a Marilyn Monroe lookalike who had a personality that could melt ice.

Beauty, brains, and she wasn’t a bitch.

Mr. All-American pulled Fiona into an embrace as soon as she was close enough, and I felt like a nice third wheel that was bumping along.

I took a second to look around the bar as Fiona and the guy chatted. There was this tingling on the back of my neck, this awareness that I was being watched. Which was ridiculous, because any one of the fifty people crammed in the bar could have had their focus trained on me. But as I looked around, I couldn’t shake the feeling, and I couldn’t see anyone looking at me directly.

“Braden, this is my very best friend, Daisy.”

I snapped my focus toward Fiona, then looked at Marcus. He smiled and offered me his hand.

“Glad to meet someone close to Fiona.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and tucked her into his side. “You must be awfully special if you got the coveted best friend title.” He said it with genuine sincerity in his voice.

I looked at the woman I’d grown up with and smiled. Fiona was classy, intelligent, and knew how to handle herself. But that wasn’t why we bonded like we had.

After the pleasantries were exchanged, we took a seat at the bar, me taking up a spot beside Fiona, and Braden on the other side of her.

I ordered a glass of champagne, not being much of a drinker, but I figured “when in Rome” and all that. And then I sat there, listening to Braden and Fiona chat, answering questions that they politely asked me because I assumed they didn’t want me to feel like the third wheel. Which I was, but it was fine.

I finished off my champagne, liking it more than I thought I would. I enjoyed the bubbles as they teased my tongue, the sweet flavor coating the inside of my mouth and hiding the alcohol taste.

“I’m going to head to the ladies’ room,” I said to Fiona.

“Want me to go with you?”

I shook my head and gave her a smile. “I’m fine.” I didn’t wait for her to respond, just started making my way through the bodies that congregated in every available space. And still I felt like I was being watched, a feeling so thick it coated my skin.

Before I disappeared into the bathroom, I looked over my shoulder and scanned the bar, assuming I wouldn’t see anyone watching me. And I almost didn’t, not until my focus landed on a table in the corner, the lights barely piercing the shadowy denseness that wrapped around that two-person table.

But only one body sat behind the smooth, glossy wood. And despite the chaos moving around me as the excitement of the celebration filled everyone and exploded outward, all I could focus on was him.

That man who clearly watched me.

That stranger who I knew without a doubt had been watching me since the moment I stepped through the door.