Chapter 4
SAbrINA
Before I could finish, his warm hands were on my hips, pushing me inside the dim interior.
After sliding along the heated leather seat, I settled against the left passenger’s side door, double-checking that I could unlock it in case I needed to flee for my life.
The driver’s eyes searched mine in the rearview mirror.
I responded with a tight smile.
He quickly averted his gaze.
My hand trembled as I ran my fingertips over the car door handle, contemplating yanking it open and sprinting out. Through the rain-streaked window, I tracked the erratic traffic, a mixture of cars, mopeds, and motorcycles racing past.
Crap.
Already regretting saying yes to a ride, I turned to slide out, but he was slipping into the other seat, blocking my exit.
The moment the door closed, the car pulled away from the curb.
And the door locks engaged.
I swallowed while I stared at the small button on the handle, as if I could will it to switch back to unlocked with my mind.
It’s fine.
Everything’s fine.
Everything will be fine.
The museum was just a few blocks away.
“Thanks for giving me a—” I stopped short as he raised the privacy partition. I shifted backward until the edge of the door pressed against my lower back. “What are you doing?”
He brushed remnants of dirt and gravel from the wet spot on his knee. “Ensuring our privacy. You were saying?”
My stomach muscles tightened over a twinge of guilt, knowing I’d caused the wet stain, as I stared at how the expensive fabric of his pants hugged his muscular thigh.
His body dominated the spacious back seat. He lounged with that arrogant confidence only men seemed to pull off, with one arm draped casually over the seat back, legs spread wide.
Don’t look down.
Don’t— God help me.
There was the unmistakable outline of his…of his…
I licked my lips.
The gesture brought his attention to my mouth again.
I needed to stop doing that.
I forced a smile. “Thanks for the quick ride.”
His eyes narrowed slightly at my emphasis of the word quick. As if I’d somehow displeased him.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t resist staring at the space where his suit jacket hung loosely against his rib cage, trying to get another glimpse of whatever was strapped to his side.
Gun.
It has to be a fucking gun, my mind shrieked in warning.
I started when he finally spoke.
“You’re more than welcome. So, what brings you to Paris?”
Trying to slow my racing heartbeat, I focused on smoothing my leather leggings over my thighs. “I’m here for the shows.”
“As a model?”
Now he was just being polite. “No, I’m working as a fashion stylist for édouard Sauvage-Lafleur.”
His gaze fell on the soggy pastry bag leaking rainwater onto the leather seat between us. Then back at me.
I snatched the bag up, holding it on my lap. “This was just a favor.”
He nodded, his expression unreadable.
My legs bounced, my feet jittering in place.
In the heat of the interior, the mix of my perfume with earthy scent of the seat leather made the car smell like sex.
My lungs hurt while I grew painfully aware of every breath I took as the windows fogged from the heat of our exhales.
Parisian traffic crawled.
He leaned forward, resting his right hand on my lower thigh, just above my knee. “There’s no need to be nervous.”
Every nerve screamed at me to move, but my body didn’t listen.
His hand tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to…disarm. “I don’t bite.”
That was a fucking lie.
Everything about this man screamed that he liked to bite…and bite hard.
I froze as I focused on the back of his hand.
The light sprinkling of dark hair, the faint outline of blue veins through the tanned skin, the ominous black diamond signet ring, the expensive watch around his wrist, how strong his fingers looked.
No detail was too small for my hyper-aware brain to take in.
“I’m not nervous,” I squeaked. Clearing my throat, I repeated, “I’m not nervous. I’m just worried about being late. There are so many people waiting for me.”
He raised an eyebrow, and the side of his mouth lifted in an amused smirk at my pathetic attempt to warn him against trying anything.
His thumb swept back and forth on the side of my thigh, sending a jolt up my spine. “Have dinner with me.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a command.
Judging by the expensive car, tailored suit, and Rolex Daytona Oyster Albino on his wrist, this man wasn’t just rich—he was intimidatingly stupid rich.
The idea of sitting across a table from this man in what would undoubtedly be an elegant restaurant, trying to act sophisticated while eating, filled me with horror.
Before I could think of an answer, my body sagged with relief when the sharp glass pyramid of the Louvre came into view.
With a shaking hand, I flicked the unlock button and threw open my door before the car had even come to a full stop.
I shrugged out of his coat and dropped it onto the seat in my rush to escape. “I can’t have dinner with you. I’ll be too busy with the show. Thanks again.”
He leaned forward. “Take my card. You’ll need it when you change your mind.”
Not knowing what else to do while drivers laid on their horns, I took the card from his hand and slammed the door shut.
As I made my way around the back of the car and across the large block-stoned pavement in front of the glass pyramid, Mark, the photographer for my social media shoots, came running up to me, holding a jacket over his head.
“Where the hell have you been? Little Dick is losing his mind.”
“Little Dick” was Mark’s secret nickname for édouard Sauvage-Lafleur.
As a famous fashion photographer, he could afford to be cavalier about the man. I couldn’t.
Looking past me, he gestured with his head. “Who’s that man?”
Following Mark’s gaze, I realized the handsome stranger had exited the car to watch me.
I gave a slight wave before ducking beneath Mark’s arm to take cover under the jacket while we raced toward the side entrance reserved for fashion staff. “He insisted on giving me a ride when it started raining.”
He frowned down at me. “Sabrina…”
I groaned. “I know! I know! Don’t go all big brother on me. I know it was risky.”
Since Mark was more experienced with the chaos of working the Parisian fashion shows, he had taken me under his wing.
He even hooked me up with the small basement apartment I shared with him and five other fashion staff during the stretch.
It was crazy small, and I was sleeping on a mat on the floor, but it was all part of the experience of fashion week.
He swiped the business card from my hand, his eyes widening. “Sebastian Diamanti. Jesus Christ, Sabrina.”
Sebastian.
The name suited him. Sophisticated and just a bit standoffish.
“Diamanti. Why does that name sound familiar?”
His response was tight. “They control the world’s diamond supply.”
Startled, I glanced behind us again.
Sebastian still stood there, arms crossed over his chest, heedless of the rain.
Watching me.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
He was the Sebastian Diamanti of the infamous House of Diamanti, an iconic jewelry and diamond distribution company.
Mark snapped his fingers in front of my face to get my attention. “You need to listen to me. Stay away from Sebastian Diamanti. He’s…not safe.”
“He’s a CEO of a jewelry company, not some criminal.”
Lowering my chin, I couldn’t resist looking back over at him one more time.
My throat constricted.
I could practically feel Sebastian's hand around my throat as he watched my exchange with Mark
“Diamonds are a dangerous business. Are you listening to me, Sabrina?”
Missing the warmth of Sebastian’s coat, I shivered and ran my hands over my upper arms. “Yeah, sure,” I answered noncommittally.
I refused to admit that Mark’s warning echoed my own suspicions.
I was too distracted staring at the man who looked like he wanted to rip Mark’s head off and use it for a soccer ball.
Just then, Mark stretched out his arm to bring me closer under his jacket.
Instinctively, I jerked backward out of his reach, while I resisted the urge to look again at Sebastian, somehow already knowing he wouldn’t be happy about Mark touching me.
Which is crazy, right?
He was just a stranger I’d bumped into on the street.
Nothing more.
Mark cut into my thoughts. “Are you going to see him again?”
I snatched the card back and frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. What would a man like that want with a girl like me?”