“Do I need protection?”
“It’s always a wise precaution.”
“But an unnecessary one. I trust you, Matthieu.”
His gaze narrowed and the air between them seemed to charge with static electricity. His eyes probed hers, boring into them as if he could intuit some deep, dark secret simply by looking. Finally, he moved his head, just the smallest shift to the side. “You know how things ended between my ex-fiancé and me. Why would you trust me?”
“That was a real relationship. This is business.”
“That makes it even more imperative to have contracts.”
“Are you saying you’re not a man of your word?”
That needled him. He drew himself up to his full height, looking down his patrician nose, obviously displeased by the question. “It is for precisely that reason I had the contracts drawn up. If you would prefer not to sign them, that’s your choice.”
“It’s no skin off my nose,” she shrugged, moving a step closer, so the documents were right in front of her and Matthieu was barely three feet away. Biting down on her lip, she read the front page again, flipping to read the second page idly. She was unaware of the way he watched her, a hint of admiration in his eyes as she studied the legal document with care.
“Okay, seems straight forward enough. Pen?”
She was distracted by the document so didn’t look up as he handed one to her. As a result, there was no avoiding the contact with his fingers. No avoiding the way his hand placed the pen in hers, and a thousand heated arrows darted through her veins, taking her breath away.
She added her name with flourish to the documents, then threw the pen on the desktop as though it were a flaming stick. “Done.” She frowned. “But, Matthieu?” She forced her eyes to meet his, even when looking directly at him was a bit like looking directly into a solar eclipse. Too intense, too dangerous; there was no protection for her. No sunglasses on earth could dull Matthieu’s appeal.
“Yes?”
“Are you absolutely sure about this?”
He was very still, silently watchful, and nerves trembled through her. “You’re asking me after you’ve signed the contract?”
“You haven’t signed them yet,” she pointed out with a small shrug. “It’s not too late. If you don’t want to go through with this.”
His eyes were unrelenting, holding hers even when she ached to look away. “Why do you think that?”
“I don’t know. I guess, it’s possible that you’ve had second thoughts?”
“Nothing has changed for me, Skye. My grandfather is still dying. My grandmother is still insisting I return home engaged or not at all. And there is no woman in my life that I would wish to embroil in this other than you.”
She nodded slowly. They’d covered the reasons for his choice: he needed someone new. Someone he didn’t already know and like. He didn’t want emotional complications, nor questions of loyalty to arise. And conveniently for Matthieu, Skye was determined to leave the country in the next few months, so they’d never see each other again, after this was over.
“I see.”
“But you are having doubts?”
“No.” Her eyes dropped to the contract and the additional amount he had pledged to give her when this was over. “Yes. Sort of. More like anxiety.” She expelled a deep breath, pressing a hand to her flat stomach, seeking calm and reassurance. “I don’t really have any experience that qualifies me for this. I’m definitely not what they’ll expect.”
“No,” he agreed with a shrug, reaching into a drawer and removing a black velvet box. “But when they know we are engaged, it is the only thing that will matter,” he insisted bullishly, passing the box across the table without ceremony. Skye lifted it, fully aware what was inside and hesitating for some unknown reason. This wasn’t a real engagement, and they weren’t a real couple, so why in the world should she hope for something more meaningful than the very clinical passing of a ring?
Had she wanted him to go down on one knee? To enact a proper proposal for what was a businesslike arrangement? Don’t be absurd, she counselled herself.
She was so momentarily distracted by the idea that she didn’t pay any attention to the jewel, giving it only a passing glance before looking back up at him and closing the box. “Then tell me what the next step is.”
He lifted his brows, his expression skeptical. “You put the ring on your finger.”
“Oh, right.” She toyed with the box before opening it again. It wasn’t that she looked at the ring more closely but when she reached for it, she couldn’t help but feel the substance of the diamond and she gasped, finally giving it her full attention.
“Good gracious! Matthieu, this is something else. It’s like a whole star has fallen into the box.”
He watched as she lifted it, his expression impossible to determine. And Skye couldn’t spare him more than a passing glance. All of her focus was caught up on the ring. The stunning, impossibly huge ring. He’d said it would be worth at least two hundred and fifty thousand euros and she’d thought he might have been joking, but as she slid it onto her finger and got a proper dose of perspective, she knew it must have been worth more.