Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Then Primrose might well have ended up one of his conquests.
Fuck.
I have never in my life lusted after an employee—and for good reason. I don’t need the drama, and I certainly don’t need to feed the press gossip. There is always someone watching, someone willing to sell me out.
But Primrose. In a certain light, she be perfect.
“I was speaking figuratively.” Jacques lowers himself into an adjacent chair. “But what’s confusing me is if you’re trying to give him the droop or make him take his dick elsewhere.”
“I wanted the company.” I drag my mind out of the delightful dilemma named Primrose. “I wanted to own it. Absorb it and all it stands for—wealth, luxury, the household name—and bring it under the du Beaumont aegis.”
“Gee, really?” He makes a disparaging click of teeth and tongue. “I mean, I thought that was the plan. And Marchand wants to sell it to you. He’s frothing at the mouth for you to make him a very rich man. So what’s with the slow-down? You trying to get it cheap?”
“I’m making him sweat.” Making him pay for an insult he doesn’t realize he’s made.
“For the hell of it?”
“I don’t like the man. I don’t like how he does business, and I detest that he seems to want to make me his friend.”
“You know what they say. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
My brow quirks. “You think I’m neglecting him?”
“I think you’ve given him a taste, and if you don’t follow through, he might drop trou elsewhere.”
“More penis analogies?”
A chuckle huffs out of him. “You said penis and anal in the same sentence. You, my friend, need to get laid. But not before you finish with Marchand. Smile, for fuck’s sake. You’re about to get what you want, making yourself richer in the process if I know you. And I do know you.”
But the aim is not more money, not anymore. I’m building an empire. Restoring the family name. Leaving my children’s grandchildren to want for nothing. And keeping myself entertained because idle hands are the devil’s playground, or so my father was wont to say. My thumb finds the pale band where my wedding ring once sat. One day, the skin will tan and the indent smooth. I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“So?”
“The plan remains the same.”
“Okay.” He pauses, though he isn’t done. “It’s as hot as balls out here.”
“So go inside.”
“I will.” When he’s said what he really came out here to say. “I see the nanny situation is going well.”
“Situation?” My attention glides his way with the caustic lift of one brow.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says with a chuckle. “I mean, I hate to say it, but I told you so.” Hates to say it so much his smile is audible.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“The kids seem to like her. Sylvie’s calling her her new best friend, and even Felix seems to tolerate her presence. And bonus, she doesn’t wilt when you look her way.”
The corner of my mouth kicks up. She scowls. Sometimes she purses her lips. Other times she resolutely ignores me. Once or twice, she’s even rolled her eyes, like she finds me the most tiresome man in the world. She does smile, just not for me. I enjoy those moments anyway.
And then earlier today, I caught her looking at me in an altogether different way. I thought I’d imagined it, but no. I saw desire burning in her eyes—like recognizing like. Her gaze was meltingly seductive without her say-so and, perhaps without her understanding.
It’s clear she doesn’t know how hard she is to resist. Not that I’m cataloguing her responses. The minutiae of her expressions. But things these past days have felt a far cry from the flight out of Paris when I swear I could feel her plotting my demise from her seat behind mine.
“How are you finding her?”
I slide him a withering glance despite the semi-pornographic images that flit through my head. The ways I’d like to find her. To have her. But I’m not a slave to my impulses.
I need to focus on other things. Perhaps get laid. I’ll be in Barcelona to close a deal soon. Maybe then.
“Emmy doesn’t wilt,” I answer eventually, casually, returning to the previous thread.
“Not now maybe. I did wonder once or twice if we might’ve lost her in the early days. Poor girl would literally quake every time you walked into a room.”
“But she stayed.”
“Because you pay the big bucks.” He chuckles. He knows full well what I expect and why I pay premium.
“Relatively speaking. Emmy’s remuneration doesn’t include stock options, of course.”
“No need to tell me how fortunate I am,” he replies. “I know my place.”
“Sometimes,” I mutter. “Spit it out. Whatever it is that’s making you hover.”
His fingers touch his chest. “I’ve got nothing to say. Other than dinner times seem to be, dare I say it, enjoyable.”