Page 22 of The Stranger

To think of the knots I’d twisted myself in last night, regretting the way I’d reacted when she’d touched the place where my wedding ring used to sit. Disloyalty had flared to life inside me.

I’ve had a lot of sex and fucked a lot of women at Ardeo, but up until last night, I’d never endured any kind of emotion while doing so. The way her expression flickered with judgement, then regret, it felt like she could see right into the heart of me. Before I knew what I was doing, I was unlocking the door behind her, setting her outside, then slamming the door shut.

Physically. Emotionally.

“How much?” I demand, slipping my finger under the thin strap of her bikini top. A tremor of something runs through her. Fear I tell myself.

“Not to sue you?” She quirks one elegant brow, purposely misunderstanding me. I don’t bother to commend her on her acting skills, angry that she’d draw this out.

“How much to get you out of this house?” I toy with the strap as I tell myself I don’t notice the heat of her skin, or the flush rising up her neck. That I don’t get a kick out of the uptick in her breath.

“Listen.” The temptress licks her lips and lust spears instantly through me. “About last night⁠—”

“I’m not interested.”

She snorts indelicately. “Oh, I got that message loud and clear.”

My brow furrows, but there is no merit in correcting her. In explaining that I’ve never wanted a woman as I wanted her last night. How I’d fought that urge, how I told myself she was out of place. She wouldn’t believe that my intentions were pure when I’d followed her into the basement. I was trying to protect her, trying to make sure that Nils was nowhere in sight.

Instead of saving Little Red Riding Hood from the wolves, I’d devoured her myself.

I wish we’d had more time, I think as my gaze slides over her, lingering where it shouldn’t. N, no I don’t, because I’d only be in deeper shit right now.

“How much?” I demand once more at the same moment she spits,

“You’re supposed to be French.”

“Didn’t you do your homework?” Thanks to my parentage, I sound both as French as champagne and as English as ale. And never quite at home with either.

“I didn’t have time,” she retorts haughtily.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t google me.” The threat is in my stance as I tower over her, and in the way I’m not quite touching her silky skin. “Stalk me in Paris Match.” God knows there have been enough articles about this family in gossip magazines over the years.

Laughter explodes from her. “No one could ever accuse you of being a wallflower, could they?”

“Unlike you?”

Her whole demeanor stiffens, though she’s quick to push the reaction away.

What the fuck is my problem—why am I always attracted to the wrong type of woman?

“Okay, so I suppose you want to talk about last night?”

“No.” Putting temptation well and truly out of reach, I step back and perch my ass on the edge of my desk. I don’t need to be reminded how I dropped to my knees like a starving man. Already feel foolish enough.

“You’re not going to apologize for pushing me out into the street?”

“No. Unless you want to apologize for your part in the proceedings.” For the sweet noises you made, the ones I drank like fine champagne, and the lust-glazed expression you wore that was just a mask. “And for being in my home under false pretenses.”

The flicker of hurt in her expression can only be due to the glitch in her plan.

“You’ve got some nerve!” she explodes. “It’s not like I want to be here.”

“Spare me your lies. Just tell me how much it’ll cost me to make you go the fuck away.” Because the longer we’re in this room together, the worse the outcome will be.

The list of my grievances is long. I’m disappointed in myself. I should know better. I’m disgusted that I jerked off in the shower this morning to the memory of a lie. I’m fucking incensed that my overpaid security team could’ve gotten this so wrong. And I am infuriated that I now need to explain to my children why their beloved Emmy won’t be returning to them.

I feel myself frown as she glances over her left shoulder, then the right.