Chapter thirty-two
Rylee
What are you doing, Rylee?
T wo weeks. That’s all I have to get everything ready for this wedding. And this week? It’s been absolutely insane. Thankfully, and unfortunately, I have a team of helpers: Mia, Sophie, my sister, Luc’s mom, and Leon, who insists on planning a bachelorette party I didn’t ask for.
We should’ve just eloped.
I wanted something small, intimate, and manageable, but no such luck. According to the media, this will be the wedding of the century. It’s all anyone has been talking about. Sometimes I forget Luc is the CEO of a multibillion-dollar empire and the most eligible bachelor in Europe.
My legs are crossed on the couch in my office with my laptop on my lap, and Leon’s sitting beside me. The group chat buzzes with everyone asking questions faster than I can answer.
“Christmas red or winter wonderland?” Leon’s voice cuts to my fried brain.
“Uh… I don’t know.” I blink at the screen in front of me.
“Gold accents or silver?”
The questions blur together, my brain a foggy mess. I’ve lost count of how many choices I’ve made today. “No more questions.”
“Okay, got it, no more questions.”
A sandwich appears in front of me. Without looking up, I take a bite, my eyes glued to the screen. The tang of mustard cuts through my thoughts, but only for a moment.
And as if that wasn’t enough, we’re still working on the new line to launch BCAK in the US. None of the designs are working. They’re either too luxurious, too simple, or just plain uninspired. We need something modern but sophisticated. Luxury but still accessible.
The sandwich appears again, and I take another absentminded bite, barely tasting it this time. My focus shifts to the sketches on the couch beside me. With a frustrated sigh, I grab the stack and flip through them again—still nothing. I toss them back, and letting out a groan of annoyance.
Before I realize what’s happening, my laptop is pulled from my lap. “Hey!” I snap my head up, locking eyes with Luc. “What are you doing?” I protest.
“What I should’ve done an hour ago.” He grabs the discarded sketches and puts everything on my desk. “You’re taking a break.”
Leon chuckles beside me. “Someone’s in trouble.”
Luc’s eyes flick to Leon’s as he glares at him. “Do I really need to say it?”
“D’accord, d’accord. Je me casse (Alright, alright. I’m leaving).” Leon raises his hands as he stands from the couch. He turns to look at me. “I’ll text you the details for the bachelorette party.”
Traitor .
“I hate you,” I mouth quietly at him.
“I love you, too.” He throws me a last smirk before leaving.
I turn my attention back to Luc, who’s staring. He’s so sexy when he’s serious.
Ugh, shut up hormones.
“What?” I narrow my eyes at him.
“Finish that then take a nap. Thirty minutes.” He points to my half-eaten sandwich.
Bossy Luc is also hot.
“Stop telling me what to do,” I scoff. “Besides, I don’t have time for a nap.”
“You do.” He steps closer. His eyes soften just slightly. “Finish your lunch and rest. I don’t want you passing out.”
“Sí, papi.” A wicked smile curls at my lips. I can’t help it. I love pushing him a little.
It happens so fast that I almost don’t register it. One second, he’s a few feet away. The next, he’s in front of me. He moves with a speed that’s almost inhuman, like a predator closing in on its prey.
He leans over me, with one hand bracing the back of the couch and the other tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. “Call me papi again”—the warmth of his breath fans across my lips, causing my heart to slam against my ribs—“and I’ll have to finish what we started on the couch.” His dark eyes smolder with something dangerous, something that sends a shiver racing down my spine.
“This time”—his thumb brushes over my jaw—“there won’t be any fabric between us.”
What are you doing, Rylee? Poking the bear and lighting the match all at once. I shouldn’t want this, but my body betrays me. Heat spreads between my thighs as I press them together. It’s been weeks since I’ve had some good vitamin D.
“Careful, Mon Trésor.” His lips curling into a predatory smile. “I always keep my promises.”
Part of me wants him to make good on that promise. To throw me over his desk and shatter the careful distance I’ve been trying to keep. But I can’t. If his kisses light me on fire, sleeping with him would melt me into lava. And I’m not ready for that.
I force myself to speak. “Finish my lunch and take a thirty-minute nap. Got it.”
Something flashes in his eyes. Disappointment? Frustration? Whatever it is, it’s gone before I can name it. I expect him to take the win and walk away.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he leans closer, suffocating me in the most delicious way. “The sooner you admit that you want me as much as I want you, the better it’ll be for both of us.”
My breath catches as he leans in, his lips dangerously close to my ear.
“We both have needs, Rylee. And we agreed no one else is allowed to take care of those needs. Sooner or later, you’ll have to let me take care of yours.” He presses a feather kiss on the small tattoo on my collarbone.
I press my thighs together, heat shooting through me. His eyes drop to my lap, catching the subtle motion, and smirks. He knows the effect he has on me.
“You can deny anything you want, but you can’t deny the chemistry between us,” he continues. “And I’m pretty sure if I checked right now…” He looks down for a split second before meeting my eyes again. “I’d find you soaking wet for me.”
A soft sound escapes my lips before I can stop it.
He’s not wrong.
“Say the word,” he murmurs. “And I’ll give you the kind of orgasm that leaves you shaking. So good, you’ll need more than a thirty-minute nap. But I promise…” He pauses, letting his words settle. “…you’d wake up feeling brand new.”
I don’t breathe. I can’t.
What the fuck?
“I—I can’t.” I force out the lie even when my body screams otherwise.
He stares at me for a few seconds, reading me. And then, with a small, knowing smirk, he straightens.
“Your choice, Mon Trésor.”
The absence of his heat leaves me cold and breathless as he walks back to my desk.
“And tell Leon no strippers at whatever he’s planning or I’m coming to get you myself,” he says from across the desk.
I sit there, completely wrecked, my pulse pounding in my ears, trying to ignore the ache he’s left behind.