Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
I ended the call and turned my attention to Sabrina.
The odd position of the mirrors throughout the room gave me a tantalizing glimpse of skin despite her trying to conceal herself.
A gentleman would let her know.
I wasn’t a gentleman, certainly not where she was concerned.
“Sabrina, I’m running out of patience.”
One of her hands held the unzipped dress at her throat while the other hiked up a fist of fabric to prevent it from dragging on the floor as she came out from behind the mirrors. “How do you know my name?”
Fuck.
A part of me yearned to abandon secrecy and confess everything I knew about her, from her middle name to her breakfast preferences to where I would find a faint scar from her teenage appendectomy.
Things would be a lot simpler if I could just deal with this like a business negotiation.
I would just pay her to help me fuck over the father whom she had never met and therefore couldn’t possibly love or feel any loyalty to.
Done.
Except it would be too easy for her father’s people to learn that it was fake, ruining all my plans.
For this to be successful, her feelings needed to be genuine.
I stepped closer, noticing her soft inhale and the way her body tensed at my nearness.
I cupped her shoulders as I spun her around.
Her silky black hair hung in long waves halfway down her back.
I tightened my hand, fighting the urge to wrap her hair around my fist, a feeling I'd harbored since those initial photographs.
She’d been walking through Central Park in New York on a blustery autumn day. Her hair whipped around her throat and lashed her cheeks as she laughed.
Had I not known she was going to Paris soon, I would have flown to New York to claim her that very day.
My hand shook slightly when I pushed her hair to the side, exposing the gentle curve of her back.
As I zipped up the dress, I leaned over to rasp in her ear, “You Americans and your suspicious natures and wild imaginations, always seeing zebras instead of horses.”
I spun her back to face me.
Since I towered over her slight frame, I grasped her chin to force her to look up at me. “Édouard shouted your name as I approached.”
He hadn’t, but hopefully, given her agitation in the moment, she wouldn’t remember.
She stepped back, breaking my grasp. “Why are you here?” She gestured to the gown she wore. “What is all this about?”
I stepped forward.
She stumbled back.
I kept advancing until her back hit one of the unbroken mirrors, trapping her against the glass.
“Today wasn’t a chance meeting,” I murmured, dragging my fingers along her cheek in a slow, possessive stroke.
That was the first honest thing I’d said to her.
My hand lingered, holding her still. “It was fate. You crossed into my world. That means you don’t walk away. Not unless I decide to let you go.”
Her body trembled, but she held her ground.
“You don’t know me,” she whispered. “You can’t snap your fingers and decide I’m yours.”
“Watch me.”
She wrenched her face to the side, breaking contact with my touch. “That is the most arrogant—”
A soft knock interrupted us.
“Monsieur Diamanti? I have the necklace,” someone called through the door.
I shot Sabrina a look. Then turned, unlocked the door, and snatched the black velvet case without a word. The courier didn’t exist.
Returning to Sabrina, I held the jewelry box before her and slowly opened it.
The massive pear-cut yellow diamond sparkled in the light.
She reached out to touch it but pulled her hand back. “You can’t mean…”
I pulled the necklace from its velvet bed and tossed the box aside. “But I do.”
“I couldn’t possibly wear that.”
Pinching the clasp, I stepped close and leaned to latch it behind her neck.
My fingers grazed her neck as I flipped her hair forward over the chain so it hung in loose waves over her bare shoulders. “Sei bellissima. Questo diamante è stato fatto per essere indossato da te.”
She stared down at the massive diamond in awe. “I don’t speak Italian.”
I ran my finger down the necklace chain, skimming along the curve of her breast. “I said, you look beautiful. You were meant to wear this diamond.”
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.”
I offered her my arm. “You say thank you and agree to join me at the pre-party for the show.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she slipped her fingers over my arm. “Okay, but only for the pre-party. Then I have to get back to reality and my job. Assuming I’m not fired, Édouard will expect me to set up more photos of the models as they come off the catwalk.”
“Considering that's your only offer, I'll accept it.”
But just before we crossed the threshold, I leaned in. "Tell me who the hell that man was—the one with his hand on you earlier.”