Page 71 of Unlock My Heart

The vehicle comes to a stop, and I reposition the veil over my head before reaching for the door handle.

“Uh-huh,” Fabien warns.

I make an annoyed sound in the back of my throat, and he hustles out and around the car, opening the door for me. “Love it when you’re a good girl.”

Like a Pavlovian response, parts of my body tingle that have no business tingling. Ignoring his outstretched hand, I exit the vehicle and march toward the house.

Fabien catches up to me, his mere presence knocking me off kilter.

He’s too big.

Too imposing.

Too sexy.

It’s bullshit.

I do a double-take. No, what’s bullshit is his crisp black suit and…my mouth falls open.

Snatching the pocket square out of his jacket’s breast pocket, I examine the fabric. It’s a salvaged scrap of my cherry dress from the auction.

The square gets shoved inside his pocket without a word.

“Our living quarters are on the second floor,” Fabien announces as I check out the lovely front porch, all the while I feel like a snow globe that’s been flipped upside down.

“My living quarters,” I correct him.

“Because of safety, I can’t have your studio open to the public,” he continues, ignoring my protests. “Design clients by appointment only, and they’ll be properly vetted first. But if you’d like a sales space open to the general public, you’re welcome to use the hotel’s lobby.”

My eyes narrow to slits. “Thanks for offering space in my hotel.”

“Yours for now. We both know you can’t afford to keep it,” he says matter-of-factly.

“And that’s why I wanted cash,” I tell him with an annoyed huff. “To save the hotel.”

“One step ahead of you.” Fabien snaps his finger, and Saint appears, handing me a manila folder.

Opening it, I scan the proposed offer. Fabien has agreed to purchase the hotel and assume its debt. “Why do you even want the hotel?”

“I have my reasons,” Fabien says cryptically.

Closing the folder, I hand it back to Saint. “A written appraisal of the property by an independent party before I even think of agreeing to anything.”

Fabien chuckles. “I’d expect nothing less, piccola volpe.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snap. “What’s the address of this property?”

Saint rattles it off, and while I’d love to flash my own cat who got the canary smile, I keep my expression natural as I fire off a text.

“Everything alright?” Fabien eyes me.

“Peachy,” I tell him, dropping my phone in my purse.

He unlocks the door, and I go to step inside, but squeal when my feet are no longer touching the floor. “Put me down,” I say with an exaggerated sigh.

“After I carry my soon-to-be wife over the threshold.”

“Ridiculous,” I scoff as he carries me inside.