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)
One of the models, who was celebrating with us at Café Le Petit Bonbon in the Latin Quarter of Paris, leaned over to translate. “She said, ‘To us, to our success, and to this incredible adventure! We did it. We survived! Cheers!’”
I smiled my appreciation as we both raised our champagne glasses in salute before drinking.
Once again, I tapped my phone screen.
Five minutes past.
I drained my glass and held it out for more.
Then I drained that too.
I closed my eyes as the room spun slightly.
A server arrived with platters of food for our group.
They carefully placed them on the various round white marble tables we had pushed together. We scurried to move glasses and ashtrays out of the way to make room.
After two weeks of surviving on stale craft service sandwiches, we’d pooled our money together for a treat.
Everyone eagerly tore off pieces of warm, crusty bread as they passed around the cheese platter filled with Mont d'Or, Comté, Brie de Meaux, and Bleu d'Auvergne cheeses served with honey, fig jam, walnuts, and dried apricots. There were also buttery, mini Croque Monsieurs and savory Madeleines stuffed with fresh thyme and Gruyere.
Since I was already buzzed, I needed to eat something before I drank any more champagne. I pushed a handful of truffle fries onto my plate, loving the earthy, mushroom scent.
Too bad they tasted like sawdust in my mouth.
Again, I hit my phone screen.
Ten minutes.
The door opened with a sudden gust of cold air. I spun my head so quickly, my neck cramped, sending a sickening rush of blood along the crimped muscle.
It wasn’t Sebastian.
Of course it wasn’t. The man didn’t have mythical powers. He wasn’t going to magically track me down at this tiny cafe in Paris.
I gulped more champagne to moisten my dry mouth.
Did Sebastian know yet that I'd stood him up?
How long would his driver wait until he realized I wasn't coming? Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes?
My gaze wandered to the window to stare out into the bright autumn night. The romantic lights of Paris twinkled while couples snuggled close against the chill as they hurried past the cafe window.
I looked at my phone again.
Twelve minutes.
I couldn’t imagine Sebastian Diamanti sending a "where u at" text after being stood up.
I flipped the phone over. I needed to stop checking. I'd already cast that die.
There was a darkness about Sebastian Diamanti.
It was hard to discern—at first. All I saw was a tall, handsome stranger with dark eyes, thick wavy hair, and an angular jaw that could cut glass.
His Italian accent mesmerized me as he stretched out vowels, as if he were savoring them on his tongue, and made me want to taste the words on his lips. And the low purr whenever he rolled his “r”s clenched my ovaries.
The way he took charge of the situation and insisted on playing the knight in shining armor made me want to swoon.
It was as if he'd stepped right out of the pages of a book.
I’d met a real-life Italian Mr. Darcy.
Then the situation had rapidly changed.
My first hint of trouble was in the way he stared after me when I'd entered the museum. There was just something about his rigid stance, as if he were forcing himself to let me go.
I should be grateful to him for saving me from Édouard’s wrath, but it was the way he'd saved me that left a sour taste in my mouth. Again, I had the distinct impression he was somehow leashing what would have been a more violent reaction. He was holding back. Barely.
The way he'd insisted on my wearing his diamond and joining him at the pre-party. I couldn’t shake the feeling he was somehow marking me as his new possession.
Then there were all the whispers and wary looks while he'd ushered me around.
Mafia.
Dangerous.
Violent.
It was too much.
I grazed my still-swollen lips with my fingertips.
And that kiss.
Holy hell, that kiss.
Never in my life had I been kissed with such all-consuming intensity. As if he were inhaling my very soul. Overly dramatic, but still…that kiss!
I gave myself a mental shake and took another gulp of champagne before I reached for the almost empty bottle nearby.
Sebastian Diamanti was not a man to be trifled with. He was the very walking definition of playing with fire, and I’d made the right decision to run as far away from him as possible.
Hating myself for it, I flipped my phone back over. The screen lit up.
Twenty minutes.
There was no way he didn’t know that I wasn’t coming by now.
How would he react?
It was terrifying enough to be near such palpable anger, let alone be the object of it. What would that even feel like? To have such controlled rage focused in on me. Surely, I’d burn to a cinder just from his glare.
My hand shook slightly as I poured more ill-advised champagne into my glass.