Chapter twenty-one
Rylee
I won’t be your sugar baby.
“S top staring at me,” I say, eyes on the paperwork Camille brought over. A $15 million campaign budget is insane. My mind races with all the possibilities for the expansion. But I can’t concentrate when he’s staring at me.
He’s leaning back in the chair across from me, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips as he squeezes a stress ball in one hand. I’ve noticed he always has something in his hand, a ball or a pen, as if he needs something to keep himself busy.
I glance up and catch his amused gaze watching me intently. My eyes drop to his lips, and the memory of that kiss comes flooding back. It shouldn’t have felt that good. I shouldn’t have lost myself in it the way I did. But the moment his lips touched mine, all the reasons I should keep my distance slipped away. I’d said no tongue, but the second his mouth moved against mine, my traitorous lips parted for him, willingly. He’s a master at kissing, the right amount of pressure, a perfect tease of his tongue, never pushing, but making me forget it was fake.
He kissed me so well that I almost let a soft moan slip, so caught up that I barely registered the knock on the door. For a moment, I forgot this was all supposed to be an act. And now, whenever he looks at me, I’m reminded of how easy it was to get lost in him.
“You ready?” His voice pulls me out of my thoughts. It’s still crazy how effortlessly he switches to his British accent.
“Yes.” I take a deep breath, gathering the documents. “Who’s going to be at the meeting again?”
“You, me, the CFO, sales director, operations director, project managers…” He continues listing names.
“That’s a lot of people.” Nerves suddenly flutter in my stomach.
“We’ll do fine. We’re a team, right?”
We? A team? His words have a way of easing the tension, and I find myself breathing a little easier.
We’re the first to arrive in the meeting room, and Camille walks in a few seconds later. She’s busy setting up everything for the meeting, but I don’t miss the sharp, narrow looks she throws our way. I ignore it, going over my note cards one last time. Luc stands at the front, scanning the room as people walk in. When everyone’s seated, he glances over at me.
“This is Rylee, our new Head of International Marketing,” he says in French. “She’s got a deep knowledge of the American market and will be key to our expansion.”
All eyes turn to me, and I offer a confident smile. Then Luc dives into the details, laying out the expansion goals in his perfect, rapid French. He’s spoken French to me before, but never like this. I can barely keep up—not only because he’s talking so fast, but because it’s so fucking sexy.
“Now I’ll let Rylee go into more details of the expansion,” Luc says, looking directly at me.
I smile, standing from my chair, smoothing out my blazer, and heading to the front. Just as I reach him, he leans in and murmurs into my ear. “Don’t look at me like that in a meeting unless you want me to kick everyone out of this room. And trust me, you don’t want to know what happens when I do.”
Fuck, I guess my face has no filter. He must have noticed me almost drooling at him. A little part of me wants to know what would happen. Would he kiss me? Bend me over the table? Focus, Rylee . I push the thoughts away.
Heat rises to my cheeks, and I grip my note cards tighter, aware of the curious eyes on us. He steps aside, taking his seat, and I take a steadying breath before turning to face the room.
“Hello,” I start, giving them a warm smile, trying to steady my pulse. “Bear with me, my French isn’t as flawless as his.”
A few chuckles ripple through the group, and the tension lifts just a bit. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Luc smiling, which somehow makes it easier and harder to focus.
“We’ll keep the original brand name for affordability, making a few adjustments to improve quality. Then we’ll introduce a new luxury line to gradually familiarize the market with BCAK’s style and standards.”
I glance around the room, making eye contact, but my gaze keeps drifting back to Luc. He’s watching me intently, though his hand is busy squeezing a stress ball, over and over.
As I finish my presentation, I look around the room, taking in the nods from everyone. A few lean in to compare notes, and a little weight lifts from my shoulders. I did it . A small rush of pride blooms in my chest, tempered only by the lingering nerves as I await their reactions.
The CFO is the first to speak up. “That’s an impressive approach to the US market, Rylee. I appreciate the focus on quality and gradual brand integration.”
The others nod in agreement, and I relax a little more, offering a genuine smile.
Just then, Luc stands, taking his place beside me. “Thank you, Rylee,” he says. “You were fantastic,” he says low enough for only me to hear.
The praise catches me off guard, but before I can process it, one of the directors asks a question about the brand integration strategy.
When the questions die down, Luc wraps up the meeting, setting expectations for the next steps. Everyone gathers their things and leaves.
A bit of the tension slips away as I meet his eyes again. “Thanks. Your support helped,” I admit, feeling the honesty settle between us.
He smirks, hands slipping into his pockets. “It’s a team effort, right?”
I nod, heart still pounding, but the nerves are replaced with a spark of excitement as we make our way out of the meeting room. Camille catches our eyes, giving us a curious look. I lean closer to Luc. “You think she already told everyone about what happened at the office?”
“What happened at the office?” He raises an eyebrow.
I roll my eyes. “The kiss,” I say, stepping into my office.
He smirks. “Oh, that kiss. The breathless one? I’d bet half the building already knows how you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”
“You wish.” I narrow my eyes at him, resisting the pull of his grin. He’s having too much fun with this.
He leans against the doorframe. “Let me grab my things from my office, then we’ll head out.”
I shake my head, watching him go. He’s insufferable. Why can’t he just be grumpy or cold? It would make things so much easier if he hated me. After what happened last time, he should. I left him without even saying goodbye. But Luc doesn’t even seem remotely angry about it.
I don’t know how to feel about that.
He returns a few minutes later, carrying a small briefcase that he somehow manages to make look sexy. “Ready to go?” he asks, pausing at my door.
“Sure.” I follow him down the hall toward the elevator.
“You don’t need to worry about Bertrand dropping me off. I can just take an Uber,” I say as he scans his card to call the elevator.
“Why would I let you take an Uber when we’re going to the same place?” The elevator door opens. He steps in, leaning against one side, and I stand on the other.
I blink. “Wait! You live in my building?”
He gives me a casual nod. “Yeah. I’m your neighbor, and I own the building.”
“My neighbor? So, it was you.” Everything clicks. He was the one watching me from his window that day.
I narrow my eyes at him. “I meant what I said, I won’t be your sugar baby, if that’s what you’re hoping for,” I say teasingly, remembering how I blurted that to him.
In a split second, his long legs close the space between us, and whatever playful smile I had dies on my lips. His hazel eyes, dark and stormy, are fixed on me. They drop to my lips, lingering there before returning to mine. My pulse races as he leans in, his breath skimming my skin.
“I want you to be my wife.” His hand reaches for my hair, fingers grazing my skin as he pulls it away from my face. “But I can be your sugar daddy, if that’s what you want.” He stares at my little ballerina silhouette tattoo, which you can only see when you’re this close. “I’m crazy rich, and I’d spoil you.” He traces the tattoo with his finger. “You can use me for everything I’m worth. Trips to Dubai, unlimited supply of vanilla candles, whatever makes you happy.”
He leans in even closer, his breath warm against my skin. “I’d blow your mind so good, just hours and hours of me ruining you.” He pulls back with a cocky smirk, gauging my reaction.
Holy shit! That shouldn’t sound as hot as it did. I’m practically melting under his gaze and the heat between my thighs.
“Never,” I manage, the word catching in my throat. My heart is beating a little too fast.
He tilts his head a little, those dark eyes holding me in place as he studies me. “Hmm,” he breathes.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open, finally breaking the tension just enough for me to remember to breathe.
I say bye to the security guard, stepping out of the lobby and following Luc outside, where Bertrand is already waiting for us. Luc opens the car door and gestures for me to get in first. Ugh, he’s just too perfect, isn’t he?
“Que caballero (Such a gentleman),”I mutter as I get into my seat. “Salut, Bertrand.”
“Bonjour, Miss Rylee,” he replies with a polite nod.
I scoot over to the window, leaving a careful gap between us.
Luc’s phone rings, and he brings it to his ear. “Hi, Sophie.” He listens for a moment then replies in French, “I’ll be home in less than a minute. Wait for me in the lobby.” He hangs up as we pull up to the front of the building.
Before Bertrand can come around, I open the door and step out. Luc walks past me toward the lobby entrance, where a young woman is waiting with a cute dog. Her face lights up as she spots him, and the warmth in her smile stirs something unfamiliar in me.
The dog barks and runs toward Luc, who kneels to catch her. “Hey, Ruby,” he says, cradling her.
Ruby? She’s gotten so big.
“Sorry, forgot my key card again,” the young woman says, shaking her head with a smile.
“Of course, you did.” Luc chuckles, and I catch myself wondering about their history.
Then Ruby wriggles out of his arms and runs toward me. I kneel, catching her as she jumps into my arms.
“Hey, sweet girl,” I say, cradling her as she sniffs me, her tail wagging excitedly. She remembers me. I look up to find Luc watching with a soft expression, a hint of warmth in his eyes.
The woman’s gaze shifts between us. “You must be Rylee?” she asks, and I nod.
“Rylee, this is my sister, Sophie,” Luc says, nodding toward her.
Sophie steps forward with a bright smile, kissing me on each cheek as I pass Ruby back to Luc. “So… you’re Luc’s girlfriend?”
The word throws me off, and I glance at Luc, who’s watching me closely.
“No,” I say, just as Luc says, “Yes.”
I blink. Are we telling people already? “I mean… we’re, um, engaged.” Oh God, am I making this worse?
I shoot Luc a quick glare, but he just shrugs, as if this is all part of his plan.
“Oh my God, really? Congratulations!” Sophie pulls me into another hug then reaches for my hand, looking for a ring that isn’t there. She raises a questioning eyebrow at Luc. “Where’s the big, sparkly ring?”
“Um… it was too big,” I stammer. “He needs to get it resized.”
Sophie rolls her eyes, sending a mock glare at Luc. “You couldn’t even get her ring size right?” She punches him in his big biceps. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“We weren’t telling people yet.” He laughs, waving it off as we head toward the elevator. I glance at him, heart still pounding, and he just gives me that infuriating smirk.
I smile back at him, already planning my revenge.