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I take a deep breath.
He’s not the bad guy.
It’s not his fault I’m in this dire situation. Pride prevented me from declaring bankruptcy. My credit rating is in the toilet, but that’s one solution I wasn’t willing to consider. And now, I’m leveraging the only asset I have left––my body.
Bryce spends an hour briefing me on what to expect while we’re in Paris. I’m intimidated by the success of these corporations and the ages of their CEOs. Some as young as twenty… and they’re already billionaires. Sobering facts considering my business crashed and burned.
I listen with rapt attention and take copious notes to make sure I live up to his expectations.
Bryce is sharp. It’s no wonder he runs a business that generates several billion dollars every year. He makes it a point to know his prospects down to their favorite bottle of wine.
The extra money is a perk, but the business lessons I’ll learn from this man are the real gems.
“You have everything you need. When in doubt, follow my lead.”
“Got it.”
“And don’t forget. They may be young tycoons, but they’re men, and you’re a charming woman. You don’t have to say much to have a man wrapped around your little finger.”
“Oh.” My cheeks burst into flames.
“Did I make you blush?” he asks, amused.
“You’re giving me superhuman powers I don’t possess.” He frowns. “Some women were born with that ability.” Like my baby sister. “I wasn’t.”
“You have that power, Amanda.”
I really don’t, but I won’t argue with him.
I’m grateful he doesn’t push. He moves onto the next item on his agenda.
We end our meeting when lunch arrives.
I’m used to traveling economy, and I’ve never experienced the luxury of real plates and real cutlery while flying. The meal smells divine.
I moan at the first bite.
“You like it?” Bryce asks.
“I never knew you could eat so well on a plane.”
“I always hire this luxury charter because they either hire a French chef or a chef who’s worked for Air France. As patriotic as I am, I’m a big fan of French cuisine.”
I relish every bite. The meal ends with more champagne and crème brûlée—one of my favorite French desserts.
Bryce gets up from where he’s sitting across from me and takes a seat next to me. He loosens his tie as he sighs.
I wonder if that’s the same tie he used to cover my eyes last night before punishing me, using Spencer Rankin as his excuse to fuck my ass…
I push the thought away.
Well, I try.
“I bet I can make you feel even better than you do now.” He must have seen the expression on my face.
I meet his blue eyes. “You can?”
“You know I can. I keep proving myself over and over. Do you need a reminder?” He gets up and help me up.
