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A hint of a smile ghosts her lips. She’s holding back, hiding her emotions so well I can’t decipher what she’s thinking. “We can’t have that, now, can we?”
I shake my head. “I’ll pay you two million dollars.”
Her jaw unhinges.
I’ve begun the first part of the cat and mouse game with her. Protect her. Take care of her needs. Pretend I need her. Prey on her need to meet my needs after I’ve met hers. Lure her into close proximity…
Pounce.
I will own her.
“Doesn’t this… cross a line, sir?”
I shake my head. “Not if we keep this platonic, no. I’m not asking you to sleep with me. I wouldn’t. I just need you to wear something pretty, make an appearance, and maybe give me a dance or two.”
Her wide eyes and pink cheeks only make me harder.
“Why me?” she asks in a soft voice.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her simply, this time not embellishing the truth. “A break from work might be wise after what happened yesterday. You need the money. And during that time, I’ll keep you safe. You won’t have to worry about police officers or any clients bothering you. After our deal, you’re free to stay or leave and pursue whatever it is you’d like to do next.”
She won’t leave.
A few seconds pass. She worries her lip and finishes her coffee. “I’m sorry, Fabien, I’m thinking.”
I turn toward the refrigerator.
“Of course. Breakfast while you think?”
I take out a carton of eggs and some American-style bacon.
“You eat eggs for breakfast? No one eats eggs for breakfast here.”
I shrug. “I told them to bring me some more American-style food, so here we go.”
“Thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you,” she says softly.
I cook while she sits at the table. I tell her about my home in Paris, my mother, and my brothers. I tell her about my cousin, the most ostentatious of all, and how his wedding will be one for the record books.
“Will there be, like, paparazzi?” she asks hesitantly.
Paparazzi for a mob wedding? We’d kill them.
“They’re not allowed, no worries there.”
“I don’t know…”
I turn to face her and slide a plate of food in front of her. “What’s holding you up?”
“You’re my boss,” she says. “But my goodness, I can’t tell you how amazing it would be to earn that money. It would change everything.” I’m banking on the fact that I can win her over before she decides to leave.
“I may be your boss, but this is a pretty unconventional workplace. No one’s gonna rat you out to HR. This is nothing but a professional arrangement, I promise.”
“I hate to say no—”
“Then don’t.”
Her thick eyelashes flutter when she blinks. “You have an answer for everything.”
I shake my head. “I want you to come with me.”
“What’s the catch?”
The catch is that once I have you, I’ll never let you go.
You’ll be my slave.
We’ll find my brother and so much more.
“No catch,” I lie. I lean against the counter and cross my arms on my chest. “You’d be surprised how important this is to my mother. Having a beautiful woman like you with me for the weekend is more than worth the money I’m willing to spend.”
“When would we leave?”
I glance at the clock on the kitchen wall. “In two hours.”
“Two hours! I don’t have what I need.”
“Is there anything you can’t get in Paris?”
“Well, no…”
I sit across from her and take a tentative bite of eggs. I make a face. “I should stick to French fare.”
“Oh, they’re fine.”
I grimace. “They’re not fine. They’re hard and rubbery.”
“Here, let me.” She stands and goes to walk past me.
I want to reach for her and pull her to me. Give her a teasing smack to the ass. Cradle her in my lap and kiss the hell out of her. I clench my hands to keep myself in check. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I want to plunder her. My need for her claws at my chest, ruthless and demanding.
“How long do you need to think about it?” I know I’m being pushy, but this matters to me.
There’s nothing to think about. You’re mine.
I love the way she looks in my kitchen, cracking eggs into a frying pan as if she belongs here.
“I really do need that money, and I think I’m a good judge of character.” She looks over her shoulder. “We have a deal.”
I swivel around in my chair to face her. My heart thunders. I hold myself back with effort and allow only the slightest hint of command to color my words. I don’t want to scare her away, not yet.
“Come here, Nicolette.”
I’m not imagining the way she holds her head up. The steady step as she walks toward me. The way my body heats when she approaches me.
“Yes?” she whispers, the very picture of seduction. I’ll take her right here, right now, over the side of this table—no. Not yet.
