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No man should be allowed to look this hot, especially not a moneyed aristocrat. It’s like cheating. And I despise cheaters.
CHAPTER5
CAMILLE
If I had to speak right now, I wouldn’t be able to.
My breath is stuck in my throat just from looking at the man in front of me. He’s tall and well-built and has intelligent hazel eyes, high cheekbones, a straight nose, chiseled lips, and a firm jawline. And all of that is framed by thick wavy hair the color of honey. He’s simply too much. If it weren’t for the crazy amount of sex appeal he gives off, I would’ve concluded that he isn’t human, but an android built to represent the perfect human male.
Mad at myself for the way I’m reacting to this toff, I return his ID. “What do you want?”
“Would you like the long version or the short version?”
“The short one, please.”
He glances at his expensive watch and mutters, “Just as well.” Then he meets my gaze. “I want to marry you.”
“Huh?”
The next second, I burst into laughter, double up, and go on and on, releasing the nervous energy that’s been building for days.
Once my heart rate is back to normal, I wipe my eyes, and inject all the snark I’m capable of into my words, “When I feel like being pranked,my lord,all I need to do is snap my fingers.”
He begins to protest, but I hold up my palm to shut him up.
“You see, half of the principality has been lining up for years for the honor. You don’t get special treatment. Take a number and go to the end of the line.”
He throws a look over his shoulder, and I realize there’s a car parked a few meters behind him. It’s big and spotless and black with tinted windows and other luxury details.
The person in the driver’s seat rolls down the window. “My lord, if I may, you’d better start over.”
The back seat window comes down, too.
“Rudolph is right, my lord,” a sharp-looking young woman calls out. “Don’t lead with the proposal. Explain the deal and how it benefits her, first.”
Louis turns back to me. “My apologies. I’m supposed to be a seasoned diplomat, yet I completely mucked this up. May I start over and explain everything?”
“Why not?” I say with a sigh. “Maybe I’ll have another laugh.”
I open the door.
He walks in. “What’s that smell?”
“Peppermint oil,” I say pulling the door shut behind him. “Mice don’t like it.”
“They like traps even less.”
“I don’t like the idea of killing creatures that mean me no harm.” I motion to the only chair, the one with the missing slats.
He nods and sits down. “How very… unwitchlike of you.”
Knowing what the gap will do to his tight ass dispels any lingering palpitations in my chest. I’m out of the woods. All his hotness notwithstanding, if he proposes marriage again or hits on me, I’ll hit him on the head with a skillet.
“Mademoiselle Mussey,” he begins, “I am here to offer you a mutually beneficial deal. For a year, you will live in luxury. You will be able to afford anything you fancy. You will travel to Paris—”
“Paris, France?” I ask. “Outside of Mount Evor?”
“Yes.”
