Page 3 of Brutal Heir

For a moment, I went still.

I was done waiting.

“Lure her?” I laughed. “She’ll either come willingly or tied up over my shoulder. Either way, she’ll be in Italy by the end of the week.”

A minor detail like consent wouldn’t obstruct my goals.

I didn’t need her agreement.

Only her presence.

Sabrina pivoted, turning down a darkened alley—away from the street, away from the tourists.

Perfect.

I stepped out of the car and gave my driver instructions to drop Rafaello off and circle back.

Then I bent and looked through the open door one last time.

I flashed my brother a cold smile. “Time to introduce myself to my future bride.”

CHAPTER 2

SABRINA

What a horrible, manipulative man.

I swiped at the raindrops tickling my cheek, silently cursing both my boss and this dreary city for the hundredth time.

My dream trip was more like a nightmare.

Fall Fashion Week in Paris with Édouard Sauvage-Lafleur, the celebrated haute couture designer. The kind of opportunity that could launch my career.

I’d pictured sorting through racks of his fall collection, being consulted on color palettes and accessories.

I hadn’t pictured being screamed at over pastry.

Now here I was, soaked to the skin, clutching a half-destroyed croissant in a bag after hiking ten blocks for a pain au chocolat from one specific pâtisserie. Never mind the gourmet craft table ten feet from his airbrushed ego inside the dry, majestic Cour Marly at the Louvre.

I glanced down at my ruined Morin Blossier vest. The soaked silk clung to my skin.

I groaned.

There were mirrors everywhere backstage. And right now, I looked like Andy in the before montage of The Devil Wears Prada.

My black leather leggings tightened and pinched my thighs as I bent over to wrench off my gold Giuseppe Zanotti platforms. There was no point in ruining my favorite pair of heels, too.

Tucking my head down, I ran across the slick pavement—straight into a brick wall.

A warm, extremely tall brick wall that smelled like juniper and charred wood.

Strong hands gripped my upper arms to steady me.

“Please excuse me. Are you all right?”

I tilted my head back—way back—to stare into the face of a god.

Holy hell.