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He smiles and looks genuinely pleased. “You like it?”

“I love it.”

His eyes twinkle at me as he pushes a button beside him. “Watch this.”

A flat screen rises on the back of the panel between our seats and the driver. A flick of his fingers on the touchscreen brings up a host of movies to choose from.

My jaw drops.

“It’s an airplane on wheels!”

A snap of his fingers, and a cool, electronic voice fills the car. “What shall I play for you?”

“Debussy, s’il vous plait.”

Rich music transforms the entire interior of the car.

“No way. Oh my God, how did you do that?”

For a brief moment, he looks like a little boy showing off a trophy. “I like my toys.” His gaze lingers on me a little too long, long enough for my mind to go to dirty places.

Am I his toy?

Why do I like the sound of that?

It’s time to change the subject.

“When I was little, I used to research and document cars for my father.”

“Document them?”

I nod. “Yes. I have an excellent memory for detail. I don’t forget anything. He would bet on races. It was legal where we were, so don’t get any ideas,” I say, wagging my finger at him. “I would categorize their speeds, take note of predictions, everything. And I would help call the race. I had an excellent track record.”

“Really.” He puts his phone down, suddenly very interested. “How did you find all that out?”

“I’m very good at making myself invisible. At lurking in places I don’t belong without being seen.” I shrug, then continue, chattering nervously. “I was a gymnast when I was younger, which came in handy when I wanted to squeeze myself into tight places. My mother used to say I had a future ahead of me, but she wasn’t quite sure it was the type you’d put on a résumé.”

I expect him to be amused, or maybe even surprised, but a strange gleam lights his eyes. “That’s good to know.” The car cruises to a stop. “Here we are.”

I look out the window, half expecting a UFO to land to take us to outer space. It all feels surreal, like I’m walking in a dream.

Today, I was supposed to meet with three different clients. I was prepared to meet their needs and be paid amply for it. I’ve learned to mute my feelings and treat what I do as nothing more than a job, but the sharp contrast between my normal day and what I’m doing now makes me almost uneasy.

Every member of his staff treats us like royalty. If I were wearing a formal dress, they’d lift my hem so I didn’t dirty it on the tarmac. If it were hot outside, they’d be holding fans and waving them at us to keep us cool. Doors open as if by magic.

It’s all so dreamlike.

Fabien’s hand on my elbow. His familiar tone as he escorts me onto the plane. The vast interior of the plane, luxury at its finest. The smell of leather and cognac. Even the plush velvety blanket folded on a small table beside my seat looks like it belongs to a queen.

“This is amazing,” I breathe, looking around me. I’m so enamored with everything, I’ve almost forgotten Gwen’s admonition. Is she jealous? Did she want the attention he’s giving me, and now that I’m with him, she can’t handle it?

I don’t know why else she’d warn me.

Sartène sits in southern Corsica, so the flight from Sartène to Paris is only an hour and a half long. I’ve made it several times at this point, but always on an economy flight. Fabien wouldn’t even be able to fit in those seats.

I expect him to take out a laptop or his phone and get to work, because a man like him must be busy. But instead, he only folds his hands like he did at the coffee shop.

I have the sudden desire to fill the quiet with conversation. I don’t know if there will be any comfortable silence around a man of his intensity.

“Is there anything I need to know?” I ask. “I’m guessing you’re not planning on telling your family and friends I’m your employee from your brothel?” I try to sound teasing, but it ends up coming out a bit sarcastically.

“What would you prefer?”

I shrug. “Could be a bit awkward if they know how we met. And I like making up different stories about who I am. You might even say I’m quite good at it.”

His brows rise a fraction of an inch. “Do you?”

I nod. “I can play the role of teacher, sexy nurse, bookish librarian, or kick-ass boss bitch with ease. I could easily play something else as well with enough notice to research.”

“What are you playing now?” Though he keeps his tone light, I don’t miss the sharpness in his eyes. My belly drops.


Tags: Jane Henry Romance