Dirty Lies

Chapter One

Quinn lowered the visor and checked her eyes one more time.

She thought she had done a good job hiding her sleepless night, though she knew her boss, Max, wouldn’t be fooled for long.

Possessing eagle eyes, he would recognize the make-up job if she weren’t careful.

She sighed. Oh, well, she had done her best with Visine and cucumber eye gel to reduce the puffiness.

If she could get through the next twelve hours without breaking down into a crying mess, she would be extremely proud of herself.

She flipped the visor up and grabbed her purse from the passenger seat. It was time to get the day started.

Quinn punched in her code to the back of the building and made her way up the stairs to the second floor, where Max’s and her offices were located.

On the first floor, the gallery was a large and bright room with windows for walls to allow the natural light to filter through.

She paused outside the closed door when she heard him moving around.

Was he speaking French? How come she didn’t know he spoke another language?

Guess that makes sense, she thought. He has a French name.

Maxence Chevalier. Even after working for him for almost a year, she still knew hardly anything about him.

From day one, he’d been nothing but professional and that meant no meaningful conversations about family or hobbies, or practically anything.

In fact, the only solid thing she did know was that he liked sushi and had tattoos. And spoke French, apparently.

It was going to be a long day. Her tears underneath the surface were ready to fall again at any moment.

Her relationship with her boyfriend, Bryan, had been erratic.

He supposedly loved her one minute but harshly critiqued her the next.

It made her mad that she wasted time over a boyfriend who never actually cared for her.

Was she that stupid? Na?ve? She curled her fingers into her palms and used her nails to inflict pain, pulling her emotions back from breaking her down.

Bryan wasn’t worth her time anymore and shouldn’t live rent-free in her head.

Taking a deep breath, she placed her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk and sat, firing up her computer. They were hosting an exhibit next week and she had a lot of preparation still left to do.

The phone call on the other side of the door abruptly ended and a moment later the door opened.

Quinn kept her face averted from Max as he walked up to her desk and sat in the chair facing her, drinking his morning cup of caffeine.

She made certain to find the invoices fascinating, anything so she didn’t have to show him her bloodshot eyes.

Max was one of those men whose looks didn’t suit his profession.

He was muscular with tattoos peeking from around his cuffs and collar.

She’d never seen him shirtless, but just those tidbits of color were enough to have her guessing he was a bad boy.

A very sexy bad boy. Just because she’d had a boyfriend didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of his sex appeal.

She thought she did a great job of hiding how fascinating she found him.

“Have you heard a single thing I’ve said?” Max asked.

Quinn blinked and snapped her gaze to his. She instantly saw the annoyance in his royal blue eyes fade into concern.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She sighed. She set her cup down and folded her hands together to lean her forehead against them. “Everything. Bryan broke up with me last night. I found him with a box, packing up all his things at my apartment last night when I got home.”

“Wasn’t even going to wait until after work to discuss it?”

She sighed and sat back to look at him. “That was kinda the problem. My work and you.”

“Me?” he asked in a surprised tone.

She nodded. “He accused me of being too devoted to you and not to him.”

Max snorted. “Typical male answer when the girl doesn’t bend over backward tying to placate him.”

“I guess so. It hurt, but not as much as him telling me I wasn’t sexy enough to keep his interest.”

One of Max’s eyebrows shot up. “Was he fucking blind?”

That made her ego feel infinitely better.

“I’m trying hard not to think that meant he cheated on me.”

“Well, I always thought he was a fucking moron.”

He walked around the desk and pulled her from her chair and up into his arms, hugging her tightly to his chest, and what a nice chest it was.

This was the first time she had been this close to him, held tightly in arms that were strong and comforting.

Actually, his whole body was, um, hot ..

. wow, lost her train of thought for a moment.

Strong and muscular. Ripped. Defined. How did she never notice her boss was this potent?

His scent tickled her nose, an elusive combination of sandalwood and spice that rolled over her.

One arm curled around the middle of her back, but the other hand rested on her nape, and chill bumps started to slide over her spine. His breath brushed over the tips of her ears, disturbing the fine hair around them, causing a strange heating sensation in her belly.

What the hell is happening to me? she thought desperately. Was she getting the hots for her boss?

Seemingly oblivious to her newfound revelation, he pulled back and grabbed his coffee before he made his way back to his own office. Quinn watched his ass as he walked away with deep appreciation. It should be illegal how he filled out a pair of pants.

Fuck. She was staring at her boss’s ass.

Her mind wandered for a moment, imagining what it would be like to run her hands over that tightly encased rear, up his firm backside to slide over perfected muscles. Did he have tattoos on his butt cheeks? She could trace each one with her tongue—

Ring!

The phone jerked her out of her daydream. Quinn shook her head and willed her heart to slow down. Work. That was the best thing for her now. She obviously had way too much distraction on her mind. Picking up the phone, she got to her job.

****

“The man is an imbecile,” Max muttered under his breath.

How he could fuck up a relationship with Quinn was beyond his understanding.

He’d had a hard-on for her since the day he interviewed her for the job as his assistant.

He might’ve been thinking with his dick that day, but she was invaluable to him now.

But he had no right to bring her into his world. Everything about him was a lie. His art gallery nothing but a front for his Ca?d, the big boss, as they used the deception for exchanging currency and laundering money. His life belonged to Le Milieu, La Famille Lemaire.

When his cell rang, the caller ID was blocked, which meant it was the other business.

“C’est Chevalier.”

“Une livraison arrive à midi. Veuillez prendre vos dispositions.”

“Already made. Text me when you’re here.”

He disconnected the call. Paintings come in, paintings are bought, money is cleaned. Dirty business was his job.