The Sinful Art of Revenge

Chapter ELEVEN


BEING NOBLE SUCKED.

Damion gritted his teeth as he took another cold shower at dawn.

His body had attained a life of its own. It craved Reiko Kagawa, and nothing, not even the punishing effects of the treadmill he’d pounded for the past two hours, eased the need.

Standing under sharp needles of freezing water was the only solution.

Not the only solution.

No. He couldn’t take the path he so desperately wanted to. Reiko needed time.

It didn’t take a genius to work out that her accident had affected her more than just physically. It wasn’t surprising that she flinched every time he went too far with her.

His time in Arizona with Isadora had taught him the complexity of the human psyche. He’d returned with a grudging understanding of what had made his father and grandfather react the way they had. And it had made him even more determined never to fall into the same trap.

Isadora’s self-esteem had been battered by one failed relationship by the time he’d met her. His confronting her about her failure as a mother had sent her over the edge.

If he pushed too hard with Reiko, she’d bolt. His body tensed in rejection of that idea. Standing under the freezing water, it occurred to Damion that this needn’t be the case. There were other, less traumatising ways of bedding a woman.

He shoved a hand through his soaking hair.

That was just it. Every woman he could think of suddenly appeared … less.

The memory of Reiko exploding in his arms replayed in his mind. His body immediately reacted, like to the pull of a siren’s song.

With a stiff curse, he wrenched the tap shut. It was no use trying to unwrap the enigma of why he wanted Reiko. Five years ago his lust had had no rhyme or reason. It certainly didn’t now, and he was damned if he would spend another moment freezing his balls off trying to wrestle meaning into why he felt the way he did.

Surely once he’d bedded her she’d lose her allure?

Returning to his bedroom, he squashed the mocking voice that told him he shouldn’t be so sure.

‘So what exactly is this job you have in mind for me?’ Reiko asked Damion over breakfast.

‘We’ll get to that in a moment. How did you sleep?’ he asked, his eyes raking her face in a frank, intimate scrutiny that immediately threw her back to last night and what had happened between them at the pool.

Heat rushed into her face. ‘You can’t do that! ’

One brow shot up. ‘I can’t ask you how you slept?’

‘You’re looking at me knowingly.’

‘That is because I’ve known you, ma fleur.’

She blew an exasperated breath and tried to keep her leaping pulse under control. Truth be told, she’d woken this morning to the sound of trilling birds, bright sunshine and the sinking feeling that keeping Damion at arm’s length would prove harder than she’d imagined.

Even the thought of him seeing her, seeing her body so different from the one he’d known in the past, hadn’t filled her with as much horror as she’d imagined it would.

She swallowed. ‘I slept soundly. You?’

He set his cup down, picked up a fork and speared a plump, perfectly cut peach. ‘I won’t bore you with the intimate details of my restless night, mon amour. Let’s just say my shower has been well exercised.’ He held out the fruit to her.

Feeling another wave of heat wash through her, she opened her mouth and took the offering. His gaze dropped to her lips, and his grey eyes darkened to almost black.

‘I won’t feel guilty just because I slept better than you did.’

He smiled. ‘On the contrary. I’m glad you did. You’ll need your strength for when the time comes.’

‘You’re so sure you’ll succeed, aren’t you?’

‘Oui,’ he stated simply, with irritating assurance.

‘Saru mo ki kara ochiru.’ She couldn’t help the need to pierce that arrogance.

His deep laugh struck a chord deep inside her, and before she knew it a smile broke over her face. He held another piece of fruit against her lips.

She accepted it, deliberately keeping her mouth wrapped around the fork for longer than was necessary. His breath hissed through his teeth.

‘You’re right. Even monkeys fall from trees,’ he responded in a serious, deep tone. ‘But I get the feeling this won’t be one of those times. You want to be mine again as much as I want to be yours.’

The bold statement sobered her up. There was no way in a thousand years she and Damion would ever work. And no amount of arrogance on his part would make the reality of her condition any less palatable.

She was everything Damion Fortier would never accept in his perfect existence.

Desperately forcing aside the wave of despair that threatened to wash over her, she brushed a few crumbs from the table. ‘You were about to tell me what my job entails.’

He frowned at her brisk tone and change of subject, but she breathed a sigh of relief when he set his fork down and nodded.

‘For the first two weeks of every March, we open parts of the château to the public. During that time all the museums and galleries that hold Fortier art and paintings on loan are required to return them for exhibition. I’ll provide you with a list, and you’ll liaise with the various houses to co-ordinate the shipping and safe delivery of the pieces. I also have six pieces arriving from Kazakhstan tomorrow. Once you’ve examined them, I’ll decide which ones to include in the exhibition.’

‘Damn, I should have asked for double what you’re paying me.’

He smiled. ‘That’s not all. There’s also a ball at the end of the two weeks. I usually stage a show of the Fortier jewellery collection. You’ll help organise that, too.’

She frowned. ‘Don’t you have a curator-slash-party-planner-type person for this sort of thing? Organising shows isn’t really my thing.’

Darkness clouded his eyes. ‘This will be my grandfather’s last ball, so I want it to be special. He arrives tomorrow, by the way. Besides, the person I used last year is no longer available and I haven’t found a replacement.’

His first statement made her insides soften with sympathy. His last hardened the softness immediately. ‘You mean you dumped her.’ It wasn’t a question. ‘I take it she was one of the girl-frogs who didn’t quite make the cut?’

‘What can I say? I’m a perfectionist.’

His words punched a hole through her. Pushing back her chair, she surged to her feet. ‘Then what the hell are you doing with me? I’m very far from perfect.’

He caught her wrist and pulled her to him before she could escape. Swinging his legs from under the table, he rested both hands on her hips, trapping her between his legs. ‘You’re also a little damaged, wilful and, prone to defensive anger and bad language.’

‘Who do you think you are? Freud?’

‘I fully intend to cure you of all that.’

‘Cure me? What? I’m like some pet project to you?’

‘You’re a very beautiful woman over whom I’ve spent several sleepless nights sporting a raging hard-on to end all hardons. My intentions aren’t altogether altruistic, so don’t make me out to be some sort of saint.’

She snorted despite her pain. ‘Sainthood is the last honour I’d bestow on you.’

‘Your trust is all I need, ma fleur.’

Another surge of despair deflated her hurt and anger. ‘You ask for the impossible, Damion.’

His gaze darkened. ‘Koketsu ni irazunba koji wo ezu.’ Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

And for the next week, Damion showed her just now determined he could be. And how utterly he was prepared to trust her. Reiko used her connections to speed up the delivery of pieces of art that were coming in from far-flung places such as Nicaragua and Zanzibar. The pieces from Kazakhstan arrived. Five of them were above board. She phoned through her suspicions over the last piece to Yoshi, then concentrated her efforts on the château opening.

With the help of the St Valoire committee, specially selected to assist with organising the open days and the ball, she watched with growing satisfaction as the château was transformed from stunning private residence to magnificent public masterpiece.

She was placing the last stack of glossy leaflets that gave a brief but rich history of the château on a Louis XIV credenza when strong arms slid around her waist.

‘It’s nearly seven. You were officially off the clock almost two hours ago.’ Damion’s lips teased the shell of her ear as he pulled her back against his warmth.

‘I’ve never been a nine-to-five sort of girl,’ she replied. Unable to resist, she leaned into him and felt his hardness against her backside.

All week he’d made such intimate gestures, sometimes in full view of his grandfather and the assistants running around trying to get the château ready. This morning their kiss had got so heated a committee member had coughed several times before they’d sprung apart.

And with every touch, every kiss, she felt her resistance eroding just a little further. Even now, resisting the urge to turn and bask in his magnificence, she knew it was only a matter of time before she gave in.

‘As the boss, I’m calling it a day. And take those shoes off.’ She heard the frown in his voice. ‘I don’t understand how you keep walking in those things.’

She finally turned to face him, fully prepared for the punch to her system the sight of his gorgeous face and incredible body always produced. ‘I feel fine. The pool has worked wonders for my back …’ Her words spluttered to a halt when he let go of her and knelt at her feet.

‘It’s still not a reason to abuse your health.’ He grasped her calf. ‘Off.’

Reiko grabbed the credenza to steady herself against the strange new emotion that battered her. The unexpected sight of Damion at her feet knocked the breath clean out of her lungs. There was nothing especially erotic or lustful about the gesture, but her senses screeched all the same, her heart hammering a beat so wild she almost gasped with the force of it.

‘There—that’s better.’

Disrobing her feet of the platform heels, he flung them to one side and surged up to tower over her. Without the benefit of her heels, he loomed bigger, larger than life, and he made her feel as delicate as cherry blossom as he gathered her into his arms.

‘Damion …’

‘I’ve been dying to kiss you properly since we were interrupted this morning.’

‘I think we scandalised Madame LeBoeuf.’

‘She needs to learn that discretion is the better part of valour,’ he said huskily before he lifted her into his arms. ‘Put your legs around me.’

She gasped at the image that shot into her mind. The intimacy of their position made the blood roar through her veins. He walked forward as he kissed her, taking his time to explore her mouth with an ease and expertise that left her reeling. She didn’t know where he was taking her until a cool breeze touched her skin.

They were on the east side of the château, where an elevated terrace gave fantastic views over the valley. St Valoire was breathtaking during the day and mesmerising at night.

He set her down and she turned to find a single round table set out between two imposing arch-supporting columns. After seeing her seated, he lifted the lids off the plates.

A simple meal of châteaubriand with potato cutlets and green beans was accompanied by a rich, full-bodied Bordeaux from the château’s vineyard. After their meal was cleared away, they lingered over the last of the wine.

‘Thanks for giving me this job. I wasn’t sure I could pull it off, but I’ve had a blast.’

‘You love art and you love a challenge. The combination was always going to work in your favour, and ultimately in mine.’

‘But as you said it’s your grandfather’s last ball. You could’ve trusted a dozen other people with it. You trusted me. So thank you.’

He looked at her for a long time, an indecipherable expression entering his eyes before he lowered his lids.

The soft glow from the wall-ensconced lights threw shadows over his face as he leaned over to refill her crystal glass. She traced the chiselled perfection of his bone structure and the mouth that had kissed her senseless a short time ago.

He raised his gaze and caught hers. ‘What?’

‘You truly are spectacularly gorgeous, Damion.’

The wine bottle hit the table with a little more force than was necessary. ‘Reiko …’

For the first time since she’d met him, he seemed at a loss for words. With widening eyes, she watched a flush creep over his taut cheeks.

She laughed. ‘Oh, my God, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’m not sure what came over me.’

‘I am sure,’ he replied. ‘Look at me, Reiko,’ he rasped huskily. ‘Look at me properly and tell me if it’s embarrassment I’m suffering from.’

She looked. And swallowed. His fists were clenched on the table, a pulse jumped in his temple, and his whole body was held taut in a grip of an emotion she’d become acquainted with all too well.

He was supremely, spectacularly aroused. From her simple, truthful words. The notion was so intensely powerful, so devastatingly power-drenching she couldn’t immediately form adequate words to answer him. ‘I … I’m …’

‘You’re ready,’ he stated. ‘I trusted you with something important to me. How did that make you feel?’

‘Respected. Cherished. Like I matter to you.’

‘How do you feel about me? When you look at me, do you see a man who will hurt you again?’

She sucked in a breath. ‘Not intentionally,’ she replied honestly. ‘But—’

He scraped back his chair. ‘No more buts.’ Without taking his eyes from hers, he reached out a hand.

Tentatively, she placed her hand in his. He swung her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing.

After spending countless hours imagining what his suite, especially his bed, would look like, Reiko barely saw it as Damion kicked the door shut and lowered her to her feet.

He reached for her, sealing her lips with his in another searing kiss that sent her heart rate soaring skyward. Beneath her roaming, frantic hands his muscles warmed to her touch, his skin heating up as their kiss grew more fervid.

But the heat threatened to cool when he reached for the hem of her cotton top.

‘I … Do you mind turning the lights off?’ she murmured against his lips.

He raised his head and speared her with a direct, probing look. ‘Why? I’ve seen the scars on your face and arms. It’s no use hiding them from—’

‘Damion, there are more scars—worse scars,’ she blurted out, the heat receding to be replaced with the familiar drench of pain.

She tried to step away, but he held her still, his narrowed eyes scouring her face.

‘Show me,’ he commanded.

‘No. We can do this … it … with the lights turned off.’

‘I want to see you. Every inch of you. And you won’t deny me. Now, do you want to take your clothes off or shall I do it for you?’

His implacable stance made her heart dive into her stomach.

‘Damion, please …’

‘Every inch. Trust me and take off your clothes.’

He stepped back to give her room, hands locking behind his back as if to physically restrain himself from touching her. That single gesture, the knowledge that he knew she was scarred and still wanted her, made her feel a powerful emotion that lent her fingers the strength to reach for her top.

Grey eyes devoured her the moment she bared herself to him, his gaze lingering longest on her lace-covered breasts. Then he frowned. ‘I don’t see any scars.’

Taking a deep breath, she caught the long, heavy curtain of her hair and looped it over one shoulder. Slowly, her heart hammering with each passing second, she turned around. Reiko felt his gaze on every single one of the long, livid scars criss-crossing her nape and back. Knew the moment he stepped closer, bringing his forceful presence with him.

What she wasn’t prepared for was the slow, almost reverent touch of his fingers tracing her scars. Or the touch of his lips against the deepest scar in the small of her back. Shocked, she glanced over her shoulder.

For the second time today, Damion Fortier was on his knees, his fingers and lips heating up skin that had gone clammy and tight with dread.

Tears welled in her eyes, a choking sob shaking through her frame. He caught her to him, resting his cheek against her back as she sobbed. Finally he rose and gathered her close, murmuring to her softly in French.

When her tears subsided, he reached for the fastening of her pencil skirt. Fresh dread crept through her. ‘There’s more, Damion.’

‘Every inch, Reiko,’ he returned, his deep, purposeful tone brooking no argument.

He eased her skirt down, taking her panties with it. Her bra came off next. Naked, scared and more than a little shaky emotionally, Reiko wanted to bolt. But Damion’s eyes held her captive. The harsh breaths rushing from his chest, the volcanic heat of his gaze and the taut control he held over his body made her entertain the belief that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t revolted by the sight of her. The very thought of it made her sway with relief.

He caught her to him, capturing her face in his strong hands so he could devour her lips one more time. His teeth caught her lower lip in a not-so-delicate bite that made liquid heat rush to her core. Against his hard chest her nipples peaked, burning with the urge to be touched. As if in tune with her every need, he captured one breast in his palm, kneading it before squeezing her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Against the ravaging force of his lips, she cried out.

With a loud sucking noise, he pulled back. He licked his lips as he stared down at her body, his hand reaching out to capture her other breast.

Her moan was long and loud and desire-drenched.

‘Do I still turn you on?’ he demanded, his voice harsh with arousal.

Through desire-swollen lips she answered, ‘God, you know you do.’

‘Do you trust me?’

‘Yes,’ she breathed.

He grasped her waist and picked her up, his strides long and focused. Gently he laid her on the bed and stood back. He inhaled slowly, his gaze never leaving hers as he stood and released his belt and lowered his zipper. Her gaze started to slide downward.

‘Keep your eyes on mine. I need to see the trust in your eyes. And you don’t need to see how needful I am for you right now.’

‘But you’re perfect. I … I’m not.’

‘Your scars don’t define who you are. Besides, I wasn’t talking about that. Five years is a long time, but I haven’t forgotten how tight and small you are. I, on the other hand, am not.’

No arrogance, just statement of fact.

The breath rushed out of her lungs. ‘Stop boasting, Damion. I know how big you are. I also know you won’t hurt me.’

Relief poured out of him. ‘You unman me with your words, ma belle.’

‘Not too much, I hope. I need a bit of your manliness.’

With a grin, he shucked off his trousers and stepped from them. ‘My bounce-back rate remains phenomenal.’ He stretched out beside her, his face sobering as his graze traced over her. ‘I want you. Badly.’

She shifted closer to his warmth, gasping when her breasts encountered the silky hair on his chest. ‘I want you, too.’ Unable to help herself, she pressed her lips to the tight skin of his shoulder.

A shudder raked his powerful frame. ‘Reiko, I need to make sure you’re ready. I can take this as slow as you want.’ His voice held a gently pleading quality that lit a triumphant flame in her heart.

Boldly, she raised one leg and slid it over his thigh. ‘I’m ready. Feel free to check it out for yourself.’

The hand that had been causing havoc with her breasts stilled for a moment, then trailed down over the marred flesh of her stomach, through the silky curls, before dipping into her cleft.

A deep groan tore through his throat at the wet evidence of her need. She lifted heavy lids and her gaze collided with his. With the utmost care, he dipped one finger inside her. Her muscles immediately tightened around him.

‘Are you okay, ma cherie?’ he rasped throatily.

Breath gushing with trepidation, she bit her lip and nodded. There was no pain, but the tightness held a mild discomfort. Damion withdrew his finger but kept his hand pressed against her. His thumb circled her *oris, sending waves of renewed pleasure roaring through her. Just as he’d done at the pool, he took one nipple in his mouth, his tongue flicking urgently against her flesh, causing her to cry out.

She grasped his silky hair, her movements almost forceful, as wild, unbearable hunger washed away anxiety. Again and again he took her to the edge, only to withdraw before she took that final step into oblivion.

Hot, unrecognisable sounds ripped from her throat. Urgent fingers clawed at his back. Her head thrashed on the pillow as he turned her body into one massive erogenous zone.

‘Please, Damion … Oh, please …’ she pleaded until she was nearly hoarse.

Finally he bit lightly on her nipple and increased the pressure on her throbbing nub. With a sharp, hoarse cry she felt her orgasm rip through her, the force of it bucking her hips straight off the bed.

She fell back to earth, shaking, moaning, trying desperately to hold on to Damion, her anchor in a rapidly disintegrating world.

It wasn’t until she had sufficiently calmed that she realised Damion had two fingers fully imbedded in her. And that there was no pain.

Her shocked gaze locked with his. He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers.

‘How do you feel?’ His accent thickened his query.

‘Fine. I feel … amazing,’ she breathed, fresh tears prickling her eyes. She blinked them away and focused on him. Against her thigh, the heavy evidence of his arousal throbbed. ‘I want to feel you. Inside me.’

He shook his head. ‘Not yet, ma petite. You still feel incredibly tight.’ He kissed her again. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘You won’t.’ She moved against his fingers and watched sweat bead his forehead. When she moved again, he pulled back slightly and pushed into her.

Sensation raced across her skin, setting her on another journey into bliss.

‘Damion, please …’

‘Not yet, but very soon. I promise,’ he murmured against her ear, before proceeding to list all the things he was going to do to her. His fingers picked up a slow but steady rhythm, his thumb circling all the while in an expert motion that drove her insane. ‘How does that feel?’

‘Good … so good!’

‘You look so beautiful. Your body is as incredible as I remember. So responsive and alive with what you’re feeling. I’ve never been this turned on in my life.’

‘You … you do it to me.’ She clamped her eyes shut as bliss rushed over her. A sob tore through her throat as another powerful climax ripped through her.

She opened her eyes to the sound of ripping foil. Swallowing thickly, she watched him slide the condom on. Unbelievably, anticipation fevered through her. The thought of experiencing a different climax with Damion, after all this time, fired her blood, making her reach out eagerly for him as he sucked in a controlling breath before rearing over her. A flash of concern darkened his eyes.

Reaching up, she pressed kisses along his jaw. ‘I’m ready. I promise.’

He swallowed and nodded, his eyes devouring her as he spread her thighs and settled between them.

She looked at his penis, poised against her core. He was so thick and powerful.

He was barely inside her before her muscles started to spasm in protest. Alarm tore through her, her breath emerging in shallow gasps as her fear escalated.

Sinking onto his elbows, he grasped her face in his palms. ‘Reiko, look at me.’

She shook her head, every frightened atom of her being ready to reject the forceful presence.

‘Look at me, please! Trust me. Feel how much I want you.’

Forcing aside her fear, she looked into his eyes. The strong, steadfast reassurance there slowly calmed her. The soothing caress of his fingers through her hair brought tears to her eyes.

‘Relax,’ he breathed, placing gentle kisses against her temple.

He pushed again. Reiko felt him slide in another millimetre. A different sensation fizzed through her. Another inch and she felt her heart hammer to an altered rhythm. Slowly, exhibiting infinite care and steely control, Damion fed himself into her. He never once looked away from her, never stopped telling her how beautiful and brave she was.

He established a steady rhythm, pulling out a fraction before sliding back in. This time the connection was more intimate, more visceral, because he kept her in his sights the whole time, gauging her every reaction and devouring the minute gasps that started deep in her throat and gradually worked their way out.

Before long she was clutching his back, her hands feverishly exploring, searching for a different peak from the ones she’d previously attained. Sweat dripped down his jaw and landed on her breast. Reaching up, she slid her hand over her his cheeks and into his hair, the intimate feel of his sweat-dampened hair ramping up her pleasure.

‘Mon Dieu, I adore your body,’ he muttered gruffly.

‘Say that last bit again, in French,’ she pleaded, the high of having him whisper throatily to her adding to the insanely heady magic unravelling inside her.

He did, repeating a litany she didn’t understand but which, coupled with the expert thrust of his hips, soon sent her over a peak much headier than she’d previously experienced.

‘Merci,’ he murmured in her ear once their breaths had calmed. He gathered her close, tucked her back to his front and pulled a warm sheet over her.

‘I think you’ve got it the wrong way round. I should be thanking you,’ she murmured sleepily.

His lips found her sweaty nape. ‘Your trust means a lot to me.’

A long time after his steady breathing told her he was asleep, Reiko lay awake, gripped with the terrifying feeling that the only reason she’d allowed herself to trust Damion was possibly because she was falling in love with him.

The next two weeks rushed by in a heady, blissful blur. During the day she stood by Damion’s side as he opened the château each morning with a short speech before handing the day’s tour over to Sabine LeBoeuf.

But once everyone had left, Damion dined with his grandfather, if Sylvain felt up to it, or with her on the terrace. Afterwards Damion would take her to the thermal pool. Sometimes he let her wear one of the bikinis he’d insisted on buying her. Most of the time he preferred her naked—a state she still found a little disconcerting.

The day before the ball, he came to find her mid-morning as she was going over last-minute menu details with the head chef.

‘Here—try this.’ She forked a piece of lobster with mango-and-lime-infused sauce and held it out to him. He chewed and nodded in approval. ‘It’ll be the starter, served with a Mersault, then beef or fish for the main. François suggested foie gras, but I’ve convinced him to change his mind.’ She smiled at the French chef, who gave a wry shrug and set out the dessert. ‘Do you want to try the dessert?’

His hands arrived on her hips, his body drawing closer to hers. ‘Whatever you go with is fine. I trust you.’

Her heart gave another lurch, as it had done lately every time Damion made such comments. And he did it with resounding regularity. She wasn’t sure why it frightened her. No. Scratch that. She knew why. She feared she was falling into the trap of believing this thing between them had some sort of healthy shelf life, when deep down she knew it was a fleeting moment in time.

Except with every demonstration of his trust, she felt herself falling deeper into an abyss she feared she might never be able to get herself out of once he learned the whole truth.

She touched François’s arm in thanks and felt Damion stiffen beside her. Even before the chef had disappeared back into the vast kitchens, Damion was turning her to face him. The dark look of displeasure on his face stopped her breath.

‘What’s wrong?’

He pulled her closer until his face was inches from hers. ‘This touching other people. It has to stop,’ he breathed.

Her mouth dropped open. ‘It doesn’t mean anything.’

He shook his head. ‘It does. It’s a coping mechanism—your way of anchoring yourself. The way you did with your father when you were trapped in the crash.’ His voice gentled. ‘I get it, but you have to stop. I can’t handle it.’

‘Does that mean I can’t touch you, either?’ she teased.

The look he gave her scorched her soul.

She sobered. ‘I can’t help it, Damion. My therapist told me to accept the flaw and use it as a crutch if I needed to.’

His hands slid up and down her sides in a soothing caress but his lips firmed. ‘I’m beginning to think your therapist was a quack who should be shot. Reiko, I’ll help you cope. Every time you want to touch someone, touch me.’

‘And if you’re not around?’

He kissed along her jaw and whispered in her ear, ‘Just think of me holding you, touching you. Let that be your anchor.’

Intense feeling rushed through her, making her mouth dry and her heart rate soar as she looked into his eyes. His words, the depth of feeling in his voice, all pointed to the impossible. She refused to believe Damion felt anything more for her than mere transient lust. Because anything else would be unthinkable. And yet …

Just like his steady assault on her resistance to sleeping with him, he seemed to be mounting a steady assault on her emotions—almost as if he cared about her …

Completely rejecting the thought for the ridiculous notion it was, she gave in to the kiss she knew would follow.

When he finally lifted his head, the look in his eyes threatened to send her emotions into freefall once again.

‘Was there a reason you came looking for me?’ she asked, as a way of bringing herself down to earth.

‘Oui. I have to go into Bordeaux to pick up a painting—a Ventimiglia. You said you had nothing suitable for the ball. I thought we could kill two birds with one stone.’

A memory nudged her mind. When it didn’t immediately reveal itself, she shrugged. ‘Sounds great. I’ll go and finalise the dessert wines with François, grab my bag and meet you out front in ten minutes.’

He nodded, then leaned down and pressed another hard kiss on her lips. ‘Remember—no touching.’

‘Scouts’ honour, Baron.’

His eyes darkened, but his only response was a light tap on her rear as she walked away.

Damion insisted on accompanying her on her shopping trip. He then proceeded to take command of the changing room and dismiss every gown she tried on. It was either too tight or too bold or too sexy.

‘You want me to ask the saleswoman if she has a sack in the back? I could just cut two holes in it to see where I’m going and be done with it,’ she teased when he rejected yet another dress.

He rose from the armchair and came towards her. Grey eyes skimmed her from head to toe, and a possessive look devoured her whole.

‘I don’t want any other men looking at you and getting ideas.’

She snorted, then realised he was serious. ‘Thank you … I suppose.’

‘You suppose?’ He caught her to him, hands skimming over her bottom to pull her into his body. ‘You don’t think other men want you?’

She shrugged, feelings of insecurity rushing back. Pushing them away, she looked at him, at the look in his eyes, and sucked in a deep breath.

‘You’ve given me so much these last two weeks. Much more than I can ever repay you for. I’ll always be grateful to you for that.’

‘I don’t want your gratitude, and I don’t like the sound of that little speech. It smacks of I’m about to dump you, which can’t possibly be the case.’

The lazy assurance as he tugged her into his arms should have irritated her.

Except it was true. She wasn’t about to dump him. She would have to eventually. She knew that. But she wasn’t ready to let Damion Fortier go. Not just yet …

A discreet cough broke their kiss. Damion laughed beneath his breath, muttered something about this becoming a habit, and they both turned.

Reiko gasped. Damion nodded with approval and almost purred with satisfaction. ‘Oui, that’s the dress. We’ll take it.’