Page 49 of Forbidden Heart

“You mean macarons?” he asks.

The fragrant and fruity taste of a raspberry macaron is still on my tongue, and I nod. “Those, too.”

Chapter 19

Charles and I leave Nigel’s and head back toward the dorms. The sun kisses my face, and Charles’s presence warms my heart, but my mind is cold and distant.

Being at the cafe was an escape—another reality—but we’re back to the real world now. A world that takes us past the jewelry store and reminds me yet again that I’m a complete failure.

I grimace and madly search for a distraction. Usually, I escape into songs about fairy tales, but this time, I have a much better idea. I can write the guys a competition song!

I’d felt so inspired, listening to Charles and Nigel speak French. I could practically feel a song taking shape, and I know I can recreate that. I have to.

“What are you thinking about?” Charles asks as we make our way across the quad.

“The competition song,” I tell him honestly. “Maybe I can work on it today.”

“That’s a great idea,” Charles says, taking my hand in his.

My pulse spikes. Suddenly, all my brain’s able to process is the fact that I’m holding hands with Charles. My princely Beast, straight out of a fairy tale.

The faces we pass are all a blur, and I don’t even realize where we are until Charles swipes his key card and leads me into the dorm building. Which is when my pulse spikes for an entirely different reason: Marcus the RA!

My free hand flies to my collarbone, and my fingers graze the four solid, comforting pieces of my fractured heart. They give me confidence. The fact that there’s no sign of the dorm guardian gives me hope. Maybe things are finally starting to look up.

“I have an idea,” Charles says when we enter the apartment.

“What is it?” I ask as he eagerly pulls me across the living room. For a split second, I think he might actually be taking me toward his bedroom—but I start freaking out when I realize we’re headed for the next room. The home library with the boardroom table, where he and I picked out their audition song before.

“How about you play the guitar and—” That’s as far as Charles gets before I yank him back.

I’d completely forgotten I’d broken Tate’s guitar. My Prince Charming hadn’t mentioned it, and neither had the other guys. I guess a part of me had hoped that if I put the whole thing out of my mind, that particular problem would cease to exist.

“What is it?” Charles frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I quickly tell him. “Let’s just go work on the song in the living room!”

“We can do that.” Charles reaches for the guitar again. “Let me just—”

“No!” I cry. “Please, don’t.”

“Why?” His confused expression is replaced by a concerned one.

“I—” Why is it that today of all days—after the guys just paid Anderson over two grand for the broken jewelry box—that they’re going to find out I also broke Tate’s guitar?

“Roonie?” Charles presses.

I feel like I’m going to be sick as I try to force the words out. “I d-dropped it.”

“Dropped what?” Charles frowns.

“Tate’s guitar.”

Charles looks at the instrument in question, and his brows furrow. “Looks fine to me.”

“It’s not fine.” I grab the instrument and flip it over to reveal the huge crack. “I didn’t mean to do it. I swear it was an accident. And now, look at it. It’s completely ruined.”

“Roonie, it’s no big deal.” Charles takes the guitar from me and sets it back down on the shelf.