Forbidden Desire

Chapter 3

“Put that phone down,” the bodyguard barked.

His eyes were sharp, cold, like she was nothing more than a nuisance—a disturbance he had no patience for.

Andy froze, phone hovering mid-air, her fingers tightening around it. For a second, her confidence wavered. The crowd around them seemed to blur, and she felt a strange mix of fear and thrill.

Then Phyne glanced over, noticing the standoff. His expression softened. “Let her,” he said, voice calm, warm. “She’s probably a die-hard fan.”

Andy’s heart leapt. Relief and excitement surged at once. She hurried forward, clutching her phone tightly, her legs moving almost of their own accord.

“Oh my goodness!” she whispered, barely containing her excitement.

Phyne leaned down casually, smiling as he posed for the selfie. Andy’s hands shook. The camera clicked, capturing a moment she’d imagined a thousand times.

“This… this is the happiest night of my life,” Andy whispered to herself, breath coming in short bursts.

Phyne chuckled softly, taking a pen from one of his assistants and scribbling an autograph on a napkin. “Enjoy it, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was calm, confident, and casual, but it carried a charm Andy couldn’t ignore.

Andy clutched the napkin like it was gold, her chest swelling with triumph and joy.

From the crowd, Cynthia watched, a smile on her lips. She felt warmth for her best friend’s happiness, but an ache slid through her chest. That should have been me, she thought. Once, she had a chance… and she let it slip.

Her mind flashed back, vivid as a photograph. Hallways echoing with giggles. Classmates whispered, “Cynthia, your husband is coming,” whenever Francis passed. Her face burned, her lips forming comebacks, yet her eyes always trailed him until he vanished around the corner.

Then the library. Empty shelves. Books hugged tight against her chest. Francis walking in. Her heart hammering, her stomach tight with nervous anticipation. He nodded at her, even said, “Hey.”

Say hi. Just say hi.

Nothing. Her tongue froze. Her hands clenched a pen until her knuckles whitened. Francis shrugged and moved on, whistling lightly, leaving her heart lodged somewhere between hope and regret. That single missed chance had left a quiet, invisible scar that lingered for years.

Watching Andy boldly claim her moment, Cynthia pressed her lips together. Happy for her friend… haunted by herself.

“Let’s go,” Andy said as she came closer, tugging Cynthia’s hand. Her eyes sparkled, energy still buzzing. “I’m exhausted. Let’s call it a night.”

Cynthia nodded, slipping her bag over her shoulder.

As they headed toward the exit, Andy slowed, guilt tugging at her. She glanced at Cynthia. “Hey… I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. The drama, all of it.”

Cynthia arched her brow, teasing. “Sorry for what?”

Andy widened her eyes, innocence plastered on her face. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

Cynthia laughed. “Relax. What are best friends for, if not surviving your madness?”

Their laughter bounced off the walls as they reached the elevator. And then—there he was. Jemson, the man from earlier.

Andy stiffened. “Oh no. Not him again,” she muttered under her breath. “I feel bad… he was nice, and I… ugh.”

Cynthia gave her a knowing look. “Then apologize. Simple.”

“Nope. Let’s take the stairs,” Andy blurted, spinning on her heel.

“Stairs?” Cynthia gasped. “You’re joking. We’re not climbing ten floors just to avoid him.”

Reluctantly, Andy followed. Her heels clicked against the stairs as they climbed. The city lights glimmered through the windows, throwing long streaks across the concrete steps.

Finally, the elevator doors slid open, revealing Jemson. Tall, sharp, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. His eyes flickered with recognition, one brow arched.

“Oh—the rude girl,” he said flatly, smirk tugging at his lips. “Back again?”

Andy’s cheeks flamed. “Wow. You already branded me rude?”

“Well… did I lie?” His tone was light, teasing, but it carried a challenge that made Andy’s pulse skip.

Cynthia bit back a grin, feeling sparks in the tension between them. Sparks, definitely sparks.

“I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t myself earlier,” Andy said, her voice softening.

“Oh, and that makes it fine to brush me off?” Jemson tilted his head, clearly enjoying the exchange.

Cynthia stepped in, firm. “We’re sorry. Both of us. Let’s move on.”

Jemson studied them, then chuckled, shaking his head. “Relax. I’m just pulling your leg.”

His smirk softened, and for the first time that night, Andy noticed a warmth she hadn’t seen before.

“Alright then… no hard feelings?” he said, extending his hand.

Andy hesitated, then slipped her palm into his. Firm. Warm. A second too long. Her cheeks flamed despite herself.

“I’m Jemson,” he added smoothly, eyes flicking between Andy and Cynthia. “And you are…?”

“Andy,” she said quickly, trying to sound cool, though her heart raced.

Cynthia nodded politely. “Cynthia.”

“Andy and Cynthia,” he repeated, testing the names on his tongue. “Noted.”

The elevator chimed, doors sliding open. Andy let go too quickly, stepping out with an awkward laugh. “Okay… Jemson,” she said, voice a mix of defiance and curiosity.

Cynthia followed, offering a polite half-smile before pulling Andy along. To her, he was just another wealthy party guest with an attitude. Nothing more.

Jemson stayed behind, watching as the doors slid shut. His lips curved into a small, knowing smile, the kind that suggested he noticed more than he let on.

For Andy, though she tried to play it cool, her mind replayed that handshake over and over, each second twisting into a memory she wouldn’t forget.

“Let’s book a ride,” Cynthia said sharply, tugging Andy along.

“Hm, why not go with the bus instead?” Andy teased, grinning. “Now we’ll have to wait a few minutes.”

“It’s safer, girl,” Cynthia replied convincingly. “You know what? There’s a coffee shop across the road. We can chill there until the Uber arrives.”

“Hm, okay. You win this time,” Andy said, giving a bright smile.

They stepped onto the street. The city lights cast a warm glow, reflections shimmering across car windows and puddles from earlier rain. Andy’s heart was still racing from Phyne, Jemson, and the tangled energy of the night. She tossed her head back, laughing, the chaotic energy from the party still humming through her.

Cynthia shook her head fondly, thinking, “there’s never a dull moment with her… never.”