Chapter 16
SEBASTIAN
She lunged for the doorway.
I got there first.
I wrapped my arm around her middle, lifting her off the floor as I crushed her to my chest.
She fought and clawed, her fury blazing through every desperate movement. Her determination to escape was almost as startling as the heat of her defiance.
To ensure privacy, I carried her into the bedroom, holding her tightly. There, I finally released her.
She flew to the other side of the room.
With a flip of her wild curls, she squared her shoulders and faced me. “I don’t care how rich you are. You can’t just keep me prisoner in your hotel room.”
Without saying a word, I opened the doors to the walk-in closet and retrieved a white dress shirt.
Hooking my finger into the collar, I held it out to her. “Your clothes had to be sent out. The hotel’s simple laundry services couldn’t handle cleaning them. I’ve instructed my staff to bring some fresh clothes for you. They should be here within the hour.”
She leaned forward and snatched the shirt. “Oh.”
After she marched into the bathroom, she called through the closed door, “You should have just told me that.”
She emerged wearing my shirt, looking sexier than if she’d been draped in the most expensive Parisian lingerie.
I clenched my fists to prevent myself from reaching for her.
This was supposed to be a calculated business plan to protect the family dynasty.
Seduce her.
Marry her.
Stop her father from taking down the House of Diamanti.
I had hoped to preserve a shred of my humanity by keeping things—mostly—professional. But now, the thought of keeping my hands off her seemed impossible.
The vision of her on her knees struggling to swallow my cock would haunt my erotic dreams.
It was all I could do not to sink my cock deep inside of her, but the sight of her wearing my shirt was almost more than I could bear.
I focused on adjusting the cuffs on her too-long sleeves. Every brush of my fingertips against her skin would remind her who dressed her.
“I’m not a monster, Sabrina.”
Easily the biggest lie I’d told her yet…and it would only get worse.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. This is a completely new situation for me, and I’m clueless about what to do.”
My fingers brushed her soft skin as I rolled the shirt cuffs over her forearms. Her quick inhalation didn’t escape me.
As I pushed her hair behind her ear, I leaned in to kiss her forehead. “You’re supposed to have breakfast with me. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
She lowered her head and nodded.
She looked so small, so vulnerable.
I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
Sabrina did not know she was playing a game with no rules and no chance of winning.
I glided my hand over her back before settling on her hip and guiding her to the balcony.
Just in case there were any missed glass shards, I swept her into my arms again and placed her in her seat.
She stiffened her spine, refusing to allow her back to touch the cushions. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
Unable to resist, I gave the top of her head a quick kiss.
She would read it as a caring gesture.
I inhaled the sweet scent of her shampoo, which clung to her still-damp hair. Clearing my throat, I sat and covered my growing cock with a linen napkin before once more pouring her a cup of coffee.
“Do I need a reason?” Without asking, I added three spoonfuls of sugar and a large dash of cream, turning it into a cloyingly sweet concoction.
Before she answered my question, she frowned. “How did you know I like extra sugar and cream in my coffee?”
Fuck.
Clearing my throat, I poured myself a cup. “Sorry. It’s how I like it as well. I must have done it out of habit.”
With an inward groan and an apology to my Italian ancestors, I added three spoonfuls of sugar and a large dash of cream to my coffee.
The first sip made my teeth ache. I preferred espresso in the morning but refused to drink what passed for it in Paris.
She wrapped her fingers around the warm cup and took a sip before casting her bright, beautiful eyes up at me. “What did we talk about last night?”
Setting aside the disagreeable coffee, I lifted the cloche from her plate, displaying two poached eggs on a nest of ham atop a sliced croissant.
I drizzled the pale-yellow Hollandaise sauce over it. “As I recall, there wasn’t much talking.”
She blanched.
Her coffee cup rattled the saucer as she set it down.
I placed a warm, reassuring hand over her shaking one. “Nothing happened, little one.” Then I gave her a wink. “I think I’ve proven today that I prefer my partners to have a certain level of…enthusiasm.”
Her cheeks flushed as she slipped her hand out from under mine and placed it in her lap. “Thank you. I’m ashamed I drank so much. I just can’t shake the feeling we talked about something important.”
Since my fury at finding her drunk in that café, ready to take food from another man, had driven me to a brutal honesty that could ruin everything, I’d been betting on her memory loss.
With a charming smile, I lied, “Nothing that I can recall,” before removing my cloche.
She frowned again. “You’re not having the same as me?”
I’d ordered the eggs Benedict for her because I’d noticed from the detective reports that she always ordered it when she went out for brunch with friends.
“I prefer a light breakfast.”
She picked up her fork and traced circles in the Hollandaise sauce without eating. “Eggs Benedict is my favorite.” She looked up at me. “Why am I getting the strange feeling you already knew that?”
I spooned some dark cherry preserves onto a slice of wheat toast. “There goes your American suspicious nature again. Perhaps I ordered the most popular tourist breakfast because the hotel recommended it.”
Her shoulders visibly relaxed as she continued to toy with the food. “Of course. That was very thoughtful of you.”
I reached for my coffee cup and raised it to my lips before remembering all the sugar and cream.
Without taking a sip, I set the drink aside and leaned back to study her. “I’m going to need you to actually take a bite, sweetheart.”
She gripped her fork so hard her knuckles whitened. “I guess I’m just not hungry.”
“All the same.” I leaned forward and, with my fork, cut off a piece of egg and ham. After sweeping it across the Hollandaise sauce on the plate, I held it up to her mouth. “Open your mouth.”
The tension between us crackled, pulling her thoughts in the same dangerous direction as mine.
The corner of my mouth lifted as my gaze traveled to her lips, my intention clear. “That is always an option if you continue to refuse to eat.”
She clamped her mouth around the fork and pulled back, chewing slowly while she kept her eyes locked on mine.
Pleased with her obedience, I gave her another wink. “Good girl.”
I laid my fork down, threading my fingers together and prepared for the next step of my plan: getting Sabrina to Italy. “I wanted to discuss your career.”
She swallowed and looked at me with frightened eyes. “What about my career?”
“Specifically your new job at the House of Diamanti.”
After putting her fork aside, she toyed with her napkin. “But I already have a job with édouard Sauvage-Lafleur.”
“That job is over.”
“He needs a fashion stylist for the website catalogue. I’m the primary candidate.”
“Your new position at the House of Diamanti is far more prestigious.”
She twisted the napkin between her hands. “But I earned the édouard Sauvage-Lafleur position.”
“Oh, trust me. You’ll earn this one.”
She tossed her napkin onto her plate and shoved her chair out before storming off the balcony.
I found her rifling through the hangers in the walk-in closet. “Where is the safe? I need my purse.”
I leaned against the doorframe as I crossed my arms. “What do you think you’re doing?”
On her knees, she pushed my trouser hangers along the lower rack. “I told you, looking for my purse. It was nice of you to offer to get me a different outfit, but this shirt is fine until I get back to my rental flat.”
“Do you honestly think I’ll allow you to roam the streets of Paris half naked for every man to ogle?”
She sat back on her heels. “I honestly thought how I was dressed was none of your fucking business. The safe, please.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then I’ll leave this room and get hotel security.”
I liked her spirit.
It was misplaced and fruitless, but admirable, nonetheless.
Her banter amused me, so I fired back. “It would be difficult to get past my own security guards.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You have guards?”
I nodded. “Two of them. Posted just outside the door.”
“So I am a prisoner here!”
I shook my head. “Nothing of the kind. The millions of euros’ worth of diamonds in the safe necessitate guards.”
“Oh…”
I went down on my haunches in front of her kneeling form. “If you keep thinking the worst of me, little one, I’m going to take offense.”
She played with the hem of my shirt as one long curl partially obscured her face. “You are only offering me a dream job with the House of Diamanti because I slept with you. As much as I would love to ignore my pride and take it, I can’t. People would talk.”
“I’m not making you a job offer, Sabrina. I’m telling you, it’s your new job. If anyone has an issue with my decision, they can fuck off.”
“Well, I don’t accept.”
With her hands in mine, I lifted her to her feet.
When she still refused to meet my gaze, I placed a finger under her chin. “Listen carefully. I’m familiar with your work. This new position is based on your talent as a fashion stylist, not for any personal reasons.”
She thought she'd got the job because I'd fucked her.
But the truth was simpler.
She got it because she was a weapon.
A blade I’d bury in the heart of her father’s fragile illusions of power.