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Luc took a sip and slid his hand into his suit pants. The photographer snapped one more picture of him then scurried away.
“Everything is running smoothly, n’est-ce pas?” his father said, walking up to him with a small smile on his face. “I appreciate you being a team player.”
“Bien sur,” he said, agreeing. “Of course. This is the best for the company. An easy decision.”
His father patted him on his back. “I’m glad you’re so committed to Montague Corp. I knew bringing you on board was a great idea.”
“It was,” he said. “But we haven’t discussed business much. I feel like I moved all the way here and have not been able to have access to all parts of the company,” he said casually, but the implication was clear. His father hadn’t said much about the rumored merger with France Air, one of the largest airlines in Europe. He’d given his son carte blanche to review the technology program and spearhead any changes and innovations in that department, because of course, his father knew he was good at what he did.
But what he really needed was his father’s complete trust, to be able to sweep the rug from under him.
“We’ll talk about this later,” his father said. “I don’t want to talk about business today.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Luc said, hoping he didn’t sound too eager.
If he wanted to fuck up the merger, he had to act fast. He didn’t have all the time in the world.
These negotiations took months, yes, with a plethora of lawyers involved. But he didn’t know how far into the merger his father’s company was—he’d have to find out.
His bride returned with a neutral expression. Did she know more than he about the merger? Would she share the information with him?
He sighed. Doubtful.
She probably didn’t want to get into trouble with his father… even though he could match any compensation his father had offered her to babysit him. No… this wasn’t just about money.
To get any information from her, even if accidentally, he needed to gain her trust. And that would be almost as hard as overcoming the growing attraction to her.
* * *
Kira shoved her sheet to the side, and swung one leg over the other, her body tired from the restless night. She usually had no trouble sleeping, but she’d come to his penthouse and stayed in a guest room.
A perfectly nice, luxurious room with a large bed and all kinds of comforts from modern living. A sleek TV on the wall, high-thread count linens, several high-end beauty products in the en-suite bathroom. His housekeeper must have gone shopping for her.
She walked up to the bathroom and turned on the tap. Cold water splashed from the curvy appliance. She gasped, and glanced at the hot button, but decided against it.
Dirty. Sweaty. And phenomenal.
The four words coated in the most sinful accent echoed in her ears. When he’d said that the night before, she’d been turned on. But now, the more she remembered the challenge in his eyes, the trace of sexual need in his voice… she splashed more water on her face and neck.
If this didn’t work, she might have to try ice cubes next.
An image of Luc, holding an ice cube and taking it to his mouth unfurled in her mind. No. No, no…
She had never been so aware of her own response to a man. She’d had sex with her ex, Clint, but more like a milestone she’d felt she needed to achieve. Didn’t really wow her, so she just assumed amazing sex was like those scenes at the movies that are amplified and embellished. Then, she crushed on Andrew… and they dated for a few months, but she didn’t sleep with him. In retrospect, a great decision.
But now… now she had to deal with this fever pitch every time she saw the man.
Maybe she was masochist. That had to be it.
After all, the previous day, after he’d suggested dirty, sweaty, phenomenal sex, he’d behaved.
She’d almost expected more innuendos from him, but after she returned from the restroom, he’d been a complete gentleman. Maybe because he knew the damage was already done, she thought cynically.
She turned off the tap. No… Luc was a man of the world. He used his charm as leverage, especially with women—the reason she’d been hired in the first place. Just because he’d hit on her didn’t mean he really desired her.
Why would he? He could have anyone he wanted—not during their marriage, per the contract. But, after, and he’d certainly had them before.
She returned to the interior of the suite, moving her neck from side to side to alleviate some of the tension. She had to get a grip. After all, her career was on the line—she had to pretend to be a good fake wife until the end of their marriage, then she’d be able to open her temp agency. Maybe, she could even get Mr. Montague’s endorsement.
