Page 1 of Forbidden Bastard
Chapter 1
Sandi Smith’s heart pounded hard as she rode up the metallic silver elevator of theLa Belle Epoqueoffice building located in the high-end business district in Paris.
The last thing she’d expected while on vacation was to be set up, by herownparents, like she was some prized possession.
Sandi was smart, funny, and until today, she’d assumed she’d have a choice in who she married.
The digital numbers climbed higher. Marriage? To a stranger?
Her palms were sweaty but she had zero time to strip off the itchy fake-fur fabric. She’d been stunned by their news, and had immediately reacted—racing from the children’s hospital to stop this fiasco.
Now.
Finally the bell dinged, signaling the twentieth floor. The elevator doors slid aside and Sandi tugged her fluffy white tail out of the way before they closed behind her.
Until now the Easter bunny singing in a foreign country and hopping along for children in a hospital as volunteering in the American Cancer Society had always grounded her.
But she kept her head high and didn’t care what these strangers in business suits thought about her, wearing her costume.
Hopefully she’d never see them again and she could go back to being a tourist, snapping pictures of herself at the museums, or figuring out theruesof Paris’s shopping sections.
Sandi used her rather silly paw to push against the glass door and enter the office, heading toward a woman sitting behind a black glass desk.
The lady was posh with shiny black hair in a bun, thin, pink lips, and a black skirt and blazer. Pretty much the opposite of Sandi, even when not in this get-up. She plopped her fluffy white hip against the slick desk and kept her bunny ears high. “I’m here to see Mr. Esposito.”
The woman’s eyes grew wider but she didn’t even blink as she tapped the blue tooth in her ear. “Your name?”
She folded her hands, unable to ignore the stuffed carrot sewed to her paw. “Sandi Smith.”
The woman's upturned nose twisted as she told someone on her headpiece Sandi's name.
Sandi glanced around the white and black office. The namedel Pescatorewas emblazed on the wall in bold italics as the only decoration in this sterile gray office place.
The secretary shook her head in disbelief as she said, “You’re… being sent in.”
Good. This was the "business" her parents had set up over the phone but Sandi would rather try and negotiate for her own freedom. The woman with the perfect makeup would never understand being in such a position. Sandi adjusted the orange felt carrot and followed behind her. “Thank you.”
No one talked. The hall was quiet enough to hear the television in the lobby out front. The receptionist stopped outside an office.
Sandi checked that her puffy tail didn’t get stuck in the swinging door as she headed inside.
As her initial anger cooled, she realized that perhaps she should have run back to her hotel room to change into regular clothes before rushing here to confront the man her parents wanted her to marry.
Sandi stared at the muscular back of a man at least a foot taller than her--his tailored shirt accentuated his well-defined body. He turned around and pierced her with brown eyes that made her heart race.
Darn. Men this gorgeous never, ever, noticed her when she'd worn vacation jeans and a t-shirt, and wouldn’t notice her even in her normal semi- casual business attire. She held out her bunny hand to shake his. “Mr. Esposito?”
The posh woman returned to the front desk, leaving them alone.
The sound of the door closing made her breath catch in her throat.
For some unknown reason, her parents had acted completely out of character and chosen a handsome man for her to marry. In the end, that would only make things more awkward. Sandi always thought she’d marry an amenable man who might not be hot, but would at least laugh at the appropriate times. Charles Esposito was severely handsome and seemed a bad boy who probably never laughed.
The man whose fingers made her tremble, well he… darn it all. This man made her think aboutsex. “Charles, we’re to be married, it seems.”
He said nothing though he didn't release her paw.
She squared her shoulders and forged ahead. Ending this farce quickly would be better for both of them so she took her hand back, ignored the sparks, and said, “My father might have agreed. My mother might have agreed, but I came here, in person, to tell you that getting married isn't happening.”
