Читать книгу Modern Romance June 2019 Books 5-8 - Andie Brock - Страница 15

“IS THIS THE right place?” Luli asked with confusion. “Where are the other people?”

“What other people?” Gabriel rose from the car to stand beside her and accepted the umbrella from the chauffeur.

Airports were busy places, weren’t they? Gabriel had brought her to a quiet field where stretches of road cut across acres of green toward the blurry horizon. There was an airplane with Arabic writing on its tail parked toward the other end of the low building that crouched behind them. The chauffeur handed their bags to an attendant and they were carried up the stairs in front of them, into an aircraft that was downright intimidating.

It was designed like the ones folded out of paper, with big triangular wings. Like a fighter jet. The windows were a continuous stripe down the body and the tail was painted with the Chinese symbol for dragon. Luli knew that meant it was Gabriel’s. He’d been using that symbol in his logos since developing a smartphone game about dragons when he was a boy.

“Don’t I have to show a passport to security?”

“It will be waiting for you when we land in Paris.”

“Paris!” She swung around. “You said you’d take me to New York.” She had tried to teach herself French at one point, but hadn’t had anyone to practice with.

“A small detour for shopping.” He gave her outfit another disdainful glance and waved to the stairs into the airplane.

Everything was happening so fast. She could barely catch her breath. And now she was awestruck as she entered the jet. It wasn’t the kind that looked like a bus with rows of seats and an aisle and little round windows. This was a house. The staff was even lined up exactly as she had stood outside Mae’s mansion when he had arrived yesterday.

The pilot welcomed her and invited Gabriel to join him in the cockpit to review their flight path.

“May I show you to your room, Mrs. Dean?” a pretty attendant asked.

“Call me Luli.” She needed to talk to Gabriel about how real this marriage was before she ran around calling herself Mrs. Dean. It was still bothering her that he hadn’t been nearly as caught up in their kiss as she had been. Then he’d been so angry after the incident with the butler.

With her mind whirling with misgivings, she’d stood on that bottom step as if it had been a jump off a high diving board. She probably wouldn’t have come this far if he hadn’t held out a hand, reassuring her she could trust him.

Foolishly, she wanted him to keep holding her hand as she followed the woman past the L-shaped sofa and reclining armchairs arranged to face a flat-screen television that hung above a fireplace.

Not a house, Luli decided as she absorbed the ebony-and-ivory interior with its glints of chrome and glass. A spaceship.

The attendant took her down a short corridor that ended in a minisuite in grays and chrome. Along with a massive bed, there was a private dining area for two, a sofa, a desk and another television.

“Please use the bell if you need me to bring anything.” She pointed at the button near the headboard as she left.

Luli saw her bag hung empty on a hook behind the door. She opened a couple of drawers, finding Gabriel’s clothes in them.

Her heart stopped. This was his room.

And there was her underwear in another drawer, looking very paltry in such a big, empty compartment. She closed the cupboard and touched the vase on the night table. It was magnetic, ensuring it wouldn’t fall over during turbulence.

She went into the bathroom. Mirrors and subdued lighting turned the powder-blue color scheme silver. The shower had frosted glass and the towels matched the bedspread.

Luli stared at herself in the mirror. Gabriel was right. This double-breasted jacket did her no favors. She had been trying to blend in for so long, she had mostly forgotten how to make the most of her attributes.

There was only soap and lotion in here, no makeup. She washed, then, rather than pin up her hair again, left it loose. The thick, wavy mass had always been one of her best features along with her natural honey-toned skin. She left the jacket on the hook behind the door, even though her plain cotton bra caused unflattering lines against the thin fabric of her knit top.

She paused before she opened the door. Gabriel was on the other side, advising someone on the phone in French what time they would arrive.

She opened the door to see him tossing a pair of bone-colored pants onto the foot of the bed. He noticed her and glanced at the blue shirt on the hanger in his hand. He replaced it on the rack and brought out a red one.

“Merci. Au revoir.” He ended his call. “These are for you. More comfortable for travel.” He pulled the shirt off the hanger and picked up the pants. “And more flattering. Although, that’s better without the jacket.”

The way his gaze lingered on her made her think of their kiss. Her skin grew tight.

“Thank you,” she murmured as she came forward to take the clothes. The linen pants had a wide, woven tape as a drawstring and the shirt was a soft knit with a half dozen buttons at the collar. “We, um, should talk about a few things.”

“Sure,” he said absently. “I wondered how long it was.” His gaze traveled to where tendrils of her hair scrolled against and around the swells of her breast. His hand lifted and she felt a light tug against her scalp, as though he drew a few strands through his finger and thumb, testing its silky texture.

She stood very still, not sure what to make of his curiosity, but liking the tingle that rippled across her scalp and down her nape into her shoulder. It was like their kiss, leaving her feeling shaken, while he had seemed to shake it off.

“I wondered if—” She started to lose her nerve. “We didn’t talk about whether this would be, um, a real...um...” She swallowed, voice almost nonexistent as she squeaked, “Marriage?”

His brows came together like a pair of crashing trains, head-on. “You signed the contract. I thought that meant you agreed to everything.”

“I didn’t have a chance to disagree, did I? Everything happened so fast. Then, the way you kissed me, I thought maybe it was just for show.”

“What do you mean? Were you pretending when we kissed?” His voice rang with such foreboding, she shivered inwardly.

“N-no?”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I’m sure. But I wasn’t sure if you...?” She swallowed, completely out of her depth.

“I wasn’t pretending anything. I was trying to keep it this side of X-rated.”

There was something in his demeanor that reminded her of the time her mother had been photographed with a jaguar. Luli had been seven or eight. Her mother had insisted she join her. Luli had been fascinated by the power and heat radiating off the spotted cat, but the handler had warned her, Don’t look him in the eye.

So she knew better, but she did it now with this beast—and instantly understood why it was a mistake. It aroused the hunter in him. He might appear relaxed, but his pupils opened and he bared his teeth, sending swirls of reaction into her abdomen. Strangely, it wasn’t terror. It was the opposite. An answering type of excitement? She didn’t know what it was, but she couldn’t look away, couldn’t move.

Another tug pulled against her scalp as he turned his finger, winding her hair to draw her forward, until she stood close enough to feel the heat off his body. He let his gaze wander her face, both lazy and thorough, like he was staking a territorial claim.

She found herself studying his mouth, licking her lips.

His fist rested on her shoulder, still tangled in her hair. His thumb stroked along the artery in her throat, where her blood moved thick and unsteady.

“You have the most beautiful skin.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that and wasn’t given a chance. He dipped his head and opened his mouth against her neck.

This was what they did. They crushed their prey with their powerful jaws.

Except he only breathed hotly against her throat, licked once, sending her pulse skyrocketing. Her breasts prickled and stung inside her bra and a wicked dampness rushed into her loins. She forgot to inhale as he rubbed his lips against her skin. Heat suffused her body and her bones turned to melted wax.

He made a purring noise and scraped his teeth, then sucked lightly, soothing with another lick. The sensation was so enticing, she let her head fall back, fully baring her throat to him.

With another noise of satisfaction, he set a hand on her hip and drew her closer, lifted his head and took her mouth in a kiss that buckled her knees. Hot, thorough, hungry. His arms went around her, pulling her in. Holding her up.

Her arms were tangled in whatever she held, but she didn’t care that she couldn’t move them. She only wanted more of that raking pleasure of his lips across hers.

The swipe of his tongue against hers sent streaks of electricity through her. She met it with her own, moaning softly in her throat as a near-painful sting heightened every inch of her skin. As if he understood that, he ran his hands over her back and waist and hips, soothing but inciting, making her wriggle restlessly, wanting more.

Her shirt came loose from her waistband and his palms went under the edge, up and up, arriving to cup her breasts so they throbbed with sensitivity in the firm hold of his hands. It was too much and not enough. She could smell something feral on his skin and wanted to drown in that scent. She plucked at his shirt and drew on his tongue and wished she could breathe, but she only wanted him.

With a savage hiss of breath, he jerked his head back. The gray-green of his eyes was jungle dark, filled with mysterious shadows and the secrets of life.

Her heart thudded so hard she could feel it rocking her whole body, pulsing in her nipples against his palms and throbbing in the plump folds between her legs.

“Are you faking this?” he asked in a voice that made her scalp prickle.

She looked down at the way his hands were trapped against her breasts under the taut fabric, the clothes he’d given her rumpled on the floor at their feet.

“No.” She didn’t have a clue what she was doing, but she was lured by the feel of his palms on her breasts to lean in to his touch.

“Good.” The word was a satisfied rumble. His thumbs flicked across her nipples, and even muffled by the cotton of her bra, the caress caused a sharp spear of electric sensation to stab into her abdomen. “I’ll close the door.”

Consciousness began to seep back into her brain. “I was going to save it,” she remembered distantly.

“Save what?” His head lowered so the air between their lips became magnetized, tugging with invisible force.

It took all her efforts to remember what they were talking about and say it before he kissed her and erased every thought she could conjure.

“My virginity.”

* * *

Gabriel stopped a scant millimeter from claiming that luscious, clever mouth. He balanced on the knife’s edge between rational thought and the sweetest, blindest escape he could recall glimpsing in his lifetime.

He made his hands slide down to her waist and swallowed.

“You’re a virgin?” he asked carefully.

Her tense stomach muscles quivered against the heels of his hands. Her pouted mouth was still parted with invitation. “Yes.”

“And you kissed me like that?”

She blinked and the sultry haze of arousal in her sea-green eyes grew tepid and unsure. “Am I not good at it?”

He was hard as high-carbon steel, his flesh nearly searing its way through the layers of cloth between them to get to the molten center of her. He swore he could smell her arousal like nectar, beckoning him to burrow deep. He would give anything to taste her, to feel her arch with pleasure against his mouth.

But he refused to believe what she was suggesting.

“Back up a step.”

She took him literally, drawing back so his hands fell to his sides. Her shirt stayed loose, her nipples sharp points against her unbecoming top.

He opened his mouth, closed it. Sought out a couple of brain cells and tried to kick them together, force them to spark cohesive words.

“I’m the first person to ever kiss you? That’s what you want me to believe?”

“The first man.” She folded her arms defensively. “There was a boy when I was thirteen. It was...” Her nose wrinkled. “Like pushing my mouth into a pile of mashed potatoes. But there were mostly women in Mae’s house so he was my only one.”

Gabriel folded. If they were playing poker, she won that hand with a wild-card joker that could be a bluff, but at this point, he could only swear and wave at the clothing on the floor.

“Change. Then go to the lounge. I need a minute to collect myself.” Maybe a cold shower. He locked himself in the bathroom the way werewolves chained themselves to a tree on a full moon, so they wouldn’t have terrible deeds on their consciences the next day.

He ran his hand down his face as if he could physically bank the heat that had risen in him as he’d contemplated starting their flight in the reclined position.

That had been even better than their first kiss. He hadn’t seen any reason to stop except to ensure their privacy, the fines for sitting on the tarmac worth every minute. Hell, they were married. If they both wanted it, what was to stop them?

But she was a virgin.

How?

And how hadn’t he realized it? He wasn’t a womanizer, but he’d slept with enough women he should be able to recognize a lack of experience in a kiss.

He’d been too carried away by her responsiveness both times to register how untutored she was, though. He liked to lead and she had let him. He’d thought it was a sign they were compatible. If he’d noticed any surprise in her, he’d put it down to his same delight at the way their chemistry ignited so quickly, feeding into each other’s arousal in a way that was exponential.

Potentially mind-blowing.

And how was her virginity such a turn-on? He was a normal man with normal fetishes like pretty underwear and high heels. Virginity had never reached the top twenty in his fantasy playlist, but the idea of being Luli’s first drew him taut as a piano string.

He skimmed his hand over his hair, tamping down the prickle in his scalp.

The more evidence he collected, the more he was coming to see Luli as every bizarre thing she claimed to be. But the only way to prove she was a virgin was to sleep with her.

And if she was a virgin, he shouldn’t touch her.

That paradox wasn’t going to torture him at all.

* * *

Luli fought her way out of the clothes she wore, half terrified Gabriel would walk out and see her naked. And reject her again.

Part of her knew he had saved her from being careless and impulsive, but she still felt rebuffed. Like she’d done something wrong. Not morally, although maybe he was judging her. She didn’t know. But more than that, she feared she had repelled him in some way, out of ignorance.

The drawstring pants hung low on her hips even after she tied them, but they only needed to be turned up twice at the cuff because she was only a little shorter than Gabriel. The shirt seams dropped off her shoulders and the sleeves also needed turning up, but the light knit was soft and comfortable and smelled of him which was disturbing and nice at the same time.

She went to the lounge, sat in one of the armchairs and buckled, then studied the panel in the armrest. Along with several reclining adjustments, there were a dozen massaging options and both heating and cooling settings. She could also control the television, the music, the lights and call the attendant. There were screens of safety instructions and a message from the pilot welcoming them aboard. It showed a countdown to takeoff.

Apparently, they would begin taxiing in seventy-eight seconds.

Gabriel appeared, hair damp as though he’d showered. He removed the shopping bag with twine handles from the other armchair, setting it at her feet before he sat.

“Something for you to play with while we travel.”

“Is this your chair? That’s why the panel has so many options. I’m sorry.” She reached to unbuckle.

“They’re exactly the same.” He waved her to stay put.

The attendant appeared with a glass on a silver tray that she offered to Gabriel.

“May I bring champagne? Lavender-infused lemonade? Perhaps a cappuccino?”

“Water is fine,” Luli said, pressing into her chair.

“Sparkling or Arctic glacier?”

Luli looked to Gabriel, expecting him to make it clear she didn’t deserve this level of catering.

“The Canadian spring water for now. No seafood for Luli.”

“Thank you, sir. We received that instruction and have arranged alternatives for Mrs. Dean. The pilot is ready to taxi to the runway if you are?”

“Thank you.” He didn’t correct her on Luli’s title.

The attendant disappeared and the view beyond the windows began to move.

Luli didn’t know how to bring up what had happened in his room.

Her downcast gaze landed on the bag, which she had to admit made her curious. It looked like it held black boxes marked with Gabriel’s golden dragon logo, all still sealed with cellophane along with something in periwinkle blue.

“Go ahead,” he coaxed, sipping as he watched her.

She drew out wireless, noise-canceling headphones, wireless earbuds and other accessories she had only ever seen, mostly online, never dreaming she would use them.

“A new laptop?” And a tablet.

“You’ll like it. More processing power. Better security. Consider it a thank-you for making me aware of a vulnerability in my own security program. I’ve discovered how you broke in and locked me out. Innovative, but it won’t happen again.”

Luli returned all the boxes to the bag, but kept the periwinkle clutch. It was the most buttery suede she’d ever touched. It had a tiny belt with a gold buckle. A wallet over a smartphone, if she wasn’t mistaken. Her ancient flip phone had died years ago and she had only ever held Mae’s long enough to fix settings, never needing one of her own because she had no one to call.

The attendant reappeared with her water. “I’ll be taking my seat for takeoff. May I set your bag in here?”

She touched a button on the box table next to Luli’s chair. The top popped up a few centimeters and slid back to reveal a padded storage bin beneath.

“Thank you,” Luli murmured, keeping the wallet in her lap.

“Please don’t be alarmed if you hear a noise in the rear of the plane as we ascend. Our design reduces the sonic boom to the decibel of a car door slamming, but you may still notice it. It’s perfectly normal.” The attendant closed the bin and walked away.

“Your plane travels faster than sound?”

“This one does, yes. There are laws as to where they can be used so I have others for airspaces where we have to travel subsonic.”

Others. Plural.

The passage of landscape beyond the windows became a rushing blur before it fell away without any bumps or noises to indicate they had left the ground. She listened and thought she heard the clap, but wasn’t sure.

Luli fingered the buckle on the adorable wallet, releasing it to reveal it did conceal a phone. A very feminine and pretty phone in rose-gold-colored metal with crystals embedded around a casing designed with a graceful swoop that set it a world apart from every boring rectangle out there. She wanted to draw it from its custom pocket, to examine it from every angle, but was afraid to mar its shine with her fingerprints.

A light blinked once and a modulated, feminine voice said, “Hello, Luli.” The words appeared on the screen then faded against the home screen that showed Gabriel’s logo and a handful of icons for apps.

“How—?”

“Facial recognition.”

“That’s why it took so long to take my passport photo yesterday? You were scanning my face?”

“If you don’t like it, you can change it in Settings. I don’t always want my phone to open when I glance at it so I also require my fingerprint.”

“I know you manufacture all of this technology, but it’s still very expensive.”

“Very,” he interjected dryly. “That’s real gold and those are genuine diamonds. Kindly take care of it.”

“What?” The priceless phone slipped from her fingers and landed in her lap. She scrambled to pick it up again, mortified. “Why would you give me something like this?”

“You’re my wife. People will expect you to have the best.”

She shook her head, still not clear on what all was expected of his “wife.”

She reached for a sip of water, trying to collect herself, and was promptly distracted by the diamond-cut cubes inside her crystal glass. Judging by the weight, they were plated gold if not solid.

Gabriel’s drink was poured over similar chilling stones. Each one was engraved with his dragon symbol.

“You’re very different from your grandmother. Mae didn’t like her wealth to be obvious. She was afraid people would be encouraged to steal from her if they knew how much she really had.”

“Which explains why she kept you locked away and allowed the rest of the staff to think it was okay to treat you poorly. She didn’t want anyone to know exactly how much she needed you.”

What would it say about her value if he let his staff wait on her and she flaunted the fancy telephone he had given her?

“What was she like?” Gabriel asked. “If my mother told me anything about her, I was too young to remember.”

“She didn’t care to leave the house. Once she realized how much she could accomplish online, she worked from home and only went into Chen Enterprises for meetings.”

“Don’t make excuses for her. She didn’t take an active role in my life because she didn’t approve of her daughter running off to marry an American.”

“That’s true,” she murmured, setting aside her glass. “She had strong views on loyalty and didn’t trust easily. Someone must have damaged her trust in the past.”

“My mother?” he suggested.

“Perhaps.” She closed the pocketbook over the sparkling phone. “But she particularly didn’t trust men. It goes back to that business manager, I think. She would only employ a man if he was married and she was introduced to his wife. With her female servants, she didn’t want them to be married or have boyfriends, thinking it distracted them and split their loyalty. She fired a maid who was dating without her permission.”

“Controlling.”

“Yes, but she was kind in her way. I caught a virus once and she had the doctor come, brought me soup and sat with me, even though I was just sleeping.” She swallowed back the lump of emotion that swelled in her throat. “I’m going to miss her.”

“Have you heard of Stockholm syndrome?” The stones clinked in his glass as he drained it. “It’s the bond of trust and loyalty a hostage feels for their captor.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Was it?

Was that what she was starting to feel toward him? She had nearly given him free rein over her body a little while ago, even though she didn’t know him well at all.

“She never spoke about my mother other than to complain about her disobedience?” He looked into his empty glass, making it seem a very idle inquiry, but she sensed a deeper need for knowledge inside the question.

“Mae wasn’t one to confide or reexamine the past. She never admitted to mistakes or regrets. I only learned she had a daughter when she came back from your father’s funeral. I sat in as she directed her attorney to rewrite her will to include you. Until that day, I thought she followed your investments for business reasons.”

“Many do.”

“I do,” she admitted, idly opening a pocket on the wallet to find a metal credit card made of actual platinum. It had an electronic chip on one end, his logo on one side and her name on the other. She shoved it back in its pocket, not ready to contemplate that she had funds at her disposal. “I, um, I’ve learned a lot from you. I like to imagine that one day I’ll have my own money and will manage it wisely and create my own fortune, instead of doing it for someone else.”

She smiled at the silly dream of it, but she had needed something to get her through the endless days of feeling like the girl in the tower. A fairy-tale fantasy of building her own castle was a lot more fun to dwell on than facing the reality of her situation or worrying there was a darker future in store for her.

Never in her wildest imaginings had she pictured this.

“I think your grandmother was proud of you,” she said.

His dark brow went up with skepticism.

“I don’t mean that as flattery. Maybe I should say she took a certain amount of credit for your success.”

“Her DNA made me what I am? Perhaps. God knows I didn’t get any hidden talents from my father. But I’m beginning to think she owes her success to you.”

“I would never make such a claim.” Not without expecting a sharp rebuke from Mae.

The plane leveled off and the ultrapleasant attendant appeared with a fresh drink for Gabriel and a fresh smile for Luli. “May I bring anything to ensure your comfort?”

“The lavender thing is popular. You should try it,” Gabriel advised.

She was curious. She nodded.

“There’s a lovely iced-mint cookie that pairs with it. I’ll bring that, too.” The attendant melted away.

“You don’t have to be so...nice.” Luli wondered what the attendant was going to say to the rest of the crew behind her back. “Do you feel sorry for me or something?”

“You told me what you were worth, Luli. Act like you believe it.”

* * *

Gabriel came to Paris at least once a year and almost always with a woman. He didn’t consider his sexual partners as objects to be “kept,” but he liked to think of himself as a generous partner in bed and in boutiques. More than one lover had accused him of offering material items in lieu of his thoughts and feelings, which he couldn’t refute. He had developed the habit of keeping both of those things firmly to himself.

If asked, he blamed his martial arts training for his circumspection. Deep down, he knew it was simply his nature to be aloof. He had never cultivated close friendships and had always felt a step apart from regular society. Did it stem from a broken heart after losing his mother so young? From fear of turning into the drunken shell his father had become? That was likely part of it, but people who spoke their thoughts aloud or permitted emotion to rule them only got back more of the same. Physical feelings of hunger and sexual desire were distraction enough. He had no wish to yearn.

And sometimes, when he was in a particularly introspective mood, he suspected that the wealth he had accumulated was both a strategy against wanting any of those abstract things that seemed to be so important to other people and a buffer against the world at large. He shouldered immense responsibility for people’s jobs and the infrastructure that served their lives and influenced whether the stock market went up or down on a given day, but he employed armies of people to look after all of that. He spoke to very few people in any meaningful way. A professional of some kind or another could be hired to do almost anything that he didn’t care to do himself so that’s what he did.

But he couldn’t do that with Luli.

She didn’t fit the compartment of employee or lover or any other label he had previously slotted people under—not even estranged blood relative. He’d gone and married her, which made him personally responsible for her. People could be hired to feed his fish, but who would feed her if he didn’t see to it?

Who would tell her, “It’s okay. Go.”

She stayed put, only her nose poking out the open jet door like a cat testing the air, sapphire eyes taking in the pale pink clouds of the evening sky, the car on the tarmac below and the people waiting beside it.

“There’s someone in a uniform down there,” she reported and backed into him.

The feel of her was erotic and enticing and caused a strange sensation to flutter through Gabriel. It wasn’t unlike the aggression that had gripped him in that moment with the butler. Protectiveness, he realized as his hands went to her upper arms in both an effort to reassure her and a claim of warning to anyone who might threaten her.

“The customs agent.” He made himself release her. “It’s fine. Go ahead.”

She cautiously went down the stairs before him. His assistant met her with a smile and an envelope. “Your passport, Mrs. Dean.”

“Really?” She hurried to look inside.

“If I may?” the customs agent asked, taking the passport long enough to glance at the stamp inside it. “Merci. Enjoy your stay.” He handed it back to her. “Mr. Dean, nice to see you again. Toutes nos félicitations.” He tipped his cap and walked away.

“Thank you,” Luli said with bewilderment to his retreating back.

“Your birth certificate is in there with your marriage certificate and my contact details,” his assistant continued. “Please reach out at any time with questions or concerns. I’m Mr. Dean’s feet on the ground here in Europe, but I can quickly direct any inquiries to another party if it’s outside my bailiwick.”

“Thank you.” Luli’s eyes were big as beach balls, glossy and bright. She blinked rapidly.

Gabriel nodded his thanks and steered her into the back of the car.

Luli’s hands shook as she tried to pull the certificate from the envelope without damaging its pristine condition.

“It is my birth certificate,” she said to him with awe. “This is me.”

“Good,” he commented.

Her hands continued to shake as she took great care folding the document exactly right so it fit into a pocket of her blue wallet. She transferred her passport and his assistant’s card and their marriage certificate into the same pocket, then secured the zipper, anchoring the little tab with her thumb.

“Are you cold?” He reached to take hold of her hand, only wanting to test her temperature.

She twisted her hand to squeeze his tightly and turned a wet look on him. “Thank you,” she choked, using her free hand to press the wallet into her navel.

“Why are you crying?” Alarmed, he reached for the box of handkerchiefs, each square of ultrasoft bamboo dyed a different shade from ruby to emerald to amethyst.

“Because—” Her voice broke. She dabbed one beneath her eyes, then beneath her nose. “I don’t know how I’ll pay you back for this, but I will. I promise.”

“For what? It was nothing.” He had paid a premium to fast-track the paperwork, but the fees were a tenth of what his chauffeur carried in his money clip for incidentals.

“No, I was nothing. Now I have the most important thing in the world. Me.” She wrapped both hands around the wallet and pressed it between her breasts, breathing still shaky. “Thank you.”

* * *

You told me what you were worth, Luli. Act like you believe it.

She had been acting. The whole time. Still was, especially as a handful of designers whose names she knew from Mae’s glossy magazines behaved with deference as they welcomed her to a private showroom complete with catwalk.

She had to fight back laughing with incredulity as they offered her champagne, caviar, even a pedicure.

“I—” She glanced at Gabriel, expecting him to tell them she aspired to model and should be treated like a clothes horse, not royalty.

“A full wardrobe,” he said. “Top to bottom, morning to night, office to evening. Do what you can overnight, send the rest to my address in New York.”

“Mais bien sûr, monsieur,” the couturier said without a hint of falter in her smile. “Our pleasure.”

“Gabriel—” Luli started to protest as the women scattered.

“You remember what I said about this?” he tapped the wallet that held her phone. “I need you to stay on-brand.”

“Reflect who you are?”

“Yes.”

“Who are you?” she asked ruefully. “I only met you ten minutes ago.”

“I’m a man who doesn’t settle for anything less than the best.” He touched her chin. “The world is going to have a lot of questions about why we married. Give them an answer.”

His words roused the competitor who still lurked inside her. She wanted to prove to the world she was worthy to be his wife. Maybe she wanted to prove her worth to him, too. Definitely she longed to prove something to herself.

Either way, she made sure those long-ago years of preparation paid off. She had always been ruthless in evaluating her own shortcomings and knew how to play to her strengths. She might not be trying to win a crown today, but she hadn’t been then, either. She’d been trying to win the approval of a woman who hadn’t deserved her idolatry.

She pushed aside those dark memories and clung instead to the education she had gained in those difficult years.

“That neckline will make my shoulders look narrow,” she said, making quick up-down choices. “The sweetheart style is better, but no ruffles at my hips. Don’t show me yellow. Tangerine is better. A more verdant green. That one is too pale.” In her head, she was sectioning out the building blocks of a cohesive stage presence. Youthful, but not too trendy. Sensual, but not overtly sexual. Charismatic without being showy.

“Something tells me I’m not needed,” Gabriel said twenty minutes in and rose to leave. “We’ll go for dinner in three hours.” He glanced to the couturier. “And return in the morning for another fitting.”

“Parfait. Merci, monsieur.” Her smile was calm, but the way people were bustling told Luli how big a deal this was. How big a deal Gabriel was.

The women took her measurements while showing her unfinished pieces that only needed hemming or minimal tailoring so she could take them immediately.

“You’ll be up all night,” Luli murmured to one of the seamstresses.

The young woman moved quickly, but not fast enough for her boss who kept crying, “Vite! Vite!”

“I’m sorry to put you through this,” Luli added.

“Pas de problème. Monsieur Dean is a treasured client. It’s our honor to provide your trousseau.” She clamped her teeth on a pin between words. “Do you know where he’s taking you for dinner? We should choose that dress next, so I can work on the alterations while you have your hair and makeup done. It must be fabulous. The world will be watching.”

She would be presented publicly as his wife, Luli realized with a hard thump in her heart.

She still didn’t know what their marriage meant. He had remained silent on the topic of their sleeping together after her confession before they left Singapore. They had spent the flight talking about the features of his laptop and some investments she thought she should unload, since their value had peaked and would likely begin to dwindle as the news of his takeover sank in. He had approved it, allowing her to continue ensuring the cogs of Mae’s business kept turning while he chewed his way through the wiring into her accounts himself.

They had dozed in their recliners at different times, neither of them seeking the comfort of the bed. He hadn’t invited her to join him there, at least. She hadn’t known how to circle back to whether he wanted her there.

She wished she knew what he was thinking, now that she had confessed her virginity. She wished she had experience to draw on! Had he kissed her because he found her attractive? Or merely because she had signed a paper that allowed him conjugal rights? She met all the criteria for typical standards of modern beauty, but perhaps that only made her objectively attractive and didn’t translate into someone who was actually desirable.

She reminded herself again that he had done her a favor in cutting things short. Along with youth and beauty, one of the few things she possessed that was hers to give or barter was her virginity. She had presumed it might have value to certain men, but Gabriel didn’t seem to be one of them.

And yet he must like sex and women. She stood where other women must have stood, buying clothing charged to him. Gabriel was a treasured client.

How strange to hate women she had never met, but she did. Instantly and bitterly.

Jealousy is a sign of insecurity and low self-esteem, she could hear her mother cautioning her. But this wasn’t a case where Luli could size up her competition and see how many of their qualities she possessed then make adjustments to outshine them.

She could only make the most of what she had—and gritted her teeth in determination, intending to.

“This one,” she said of the dress she tried on a few minutes later.

From the back, it was a one-shouldered evening dress in cranberry silk with a filmy chiffon skirt, except half of the skirt was ivory. The front was more dramatic, with its silk bodice fitted to her breasts and the bottom of the dress made of shiny silk and cut to miniskirt height. The chiffon of the overskirt was belted in the pink-red silk, but its ruffled edges opened as she walked, delicate as fairy wings.

“You have a good eye and the ideal figure for Madame’s creations,” her seamstress gushed.

Luli accepted tall silver shoes with a pop of merlot on the sole then moved to the styling room. Her hair was blown out and her nails buffed and polished. A cosmetician applied cleansers, toners, moisturizer, antioxidants and foundation. When the woman reached for her color palette, Luli said, “I’ll do it.”

It had been years, but her muscle memory for liquid eyeliner and blending hues to contour her bone structure served her well.

Even so, when she stood dressed and ready in front of the mirror, she saw a stranger. Not because it had been so long since she had seen herself stage ready, but because she was no longer fourteen. Being twenty-two shouldn’t have made such a difference when she had been acting like an adult as an adolescent, but it did. Rather than looking like a girl playing dress up, she looked like a woman. A confident, self-possessed, beautiful woman.

Act like you believe it, she silently told the apprehensive face in the mirror.

“Monsieur Dean has arrived,” her seamstress came in to advise her. “Ooh, là là! He will faint. I may.” She fanned her face.

“Thank you,” Luli said, accepting the compliment graciously, as her mother had taught her to do. Anything less would suggest she believed herself inferior in some way.

Luli gave herself a final scrutiny, adjusted her posture and ensured she stood as tall as she was able. Then she thought back to the puppy she had played with as a child. She didn’t recall whom it had belonged to, but the memory was one she had always used to awaken a feeling of happiness within her. It was the happiest she’d ever felt.

She faltered. Had she really not had a happy moment since then?

“Perhaps you would like to carry this instead?” the seamstress said, offering a Cleopatra clutch in black alligator skin with an ornate silver clasp.

Luli had kept her wallet in her line of sight the entire time she’d been here, terrified that if it disappeared, she would. She used the excuse of changing purses to check again that her precious identification was still in her possession. She handed off the empty wallet to the woman who promised to bag it with the items going to the car.

Emotion threatened to swamp her afresh as she absorbed what Gabriel had given her with a few legal documents. Options. Possibility. The gift of existence was greater than any haute couture dress or designer handbag or limitless credit card.

It was a miracle.

She did have a more recent memory of happiness, she realized. This. As she snapped the clutch closed and turned its tiny lock, she let the glow of gratitude toward him seep through her until joy shone from her smile and radiated from her demeanor.

With every ounce of grace she had ever possessed, she walked to the reception lounge.

* * *

Gabriel turned from instructing the couturier to box up as much as possible by morning so they could take it on the jet with them—and all the air was punched from his lungs.

A goddess approached in an unhurried gait that rocked her hips. Her skirt wafted back from her mile-long legs and her breasts bounced lightly above a long, slender waist. Her hair slithered in loose ribbons of caramel with glints of cool platinum against the warm gold of her bare shoulders and upper chest.

Her face was an angel’s, luminous and pure. Aside from the dramatic lines that accented her eyes and gave them a hint of tilt, she wore little makeup. Or wore it so well, it was barely noticeable. Her lashes were naturally long and thick. He’d studied them while she had slept on the plane. Her succulent lips were accentuated with a delicate pink and shone with gloss. Her smile was one of exultation. Whatever she was celebrating, he decided she was entitled to it.

He couldn’t fault her in that moment for one damned thing.

She halted before she reached him, struck a pose, pivoted to show the back of the dress. It lifted and floated back down before she pivoted again and continued toward him with a playful sparkle in her eye.

The entire move had been executed so smoothly, he chuckled with enjoyment.

“Maximum points for first impression, I hope. Otherwise we start again.” She met his gaze without shyness, smiling, utterly composed.

She was sexy as hell.

Virgin, he reminded himself, yet the only thing that kept him from ravishing her on the spot was their rapt audience.

She was waiting for his judgment, he realized, as she continued looking at him and he noted tension creep in around her smile. The flutter of her pulse in her throat grew more rapid, exactly as it had been when she had quietly challenged him in his grandmother’s office.

“You broke the scale.” He brought her hand to his mouth, wanting to place his lips in far more intimate places than her soft knuckle. “And good thing because I’m too hungry to wait while you start again. This is for you.”

He gently splayed out her hand and threaded the ring onto her finger.

It was a performance for their audience and she gasped with appropriate amazement at the fifteen-carat marquise-cut blue diamond. Its split shank was coated in white diamonds to set off the rare color of the center stone.

The women around them squealed with excitement.

“I don’t know what to say,” Luli said faintly.

“Thank you?” he suggested dryly, and did what was expected, taking her into his arms for a kiss.

Her arms went around his neck and her heart pounded so hard he felt it against his chest, teasing his own to come race with hers. He kept the kiss light, not wanting to ruin her lipstick, but her lips clung shyly to his and she slid her lashes down with awareness as he released her.

He groaned inwardly. Virgin she might be, but her response to his touch was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced.

“Good night, ladies. Your extra effort won’t go unrewarded,” he said with a nod.

Voices wished them a lovely evening and he escorted her to the car, for once anticipating the entrance they would make. Women invariably wanted to be seen with him, whether it was an innocent business meeting or a lengthy, more intimate association. He found the quest for attention tiresome, but accepted it.

With Luli, however, he was already smiling inwardly at the stir she would cause. He usually only felt this sense of excitement when one of his personal projects went to market—a niche app or something else he had poured himself into developing.

He was swelling with pride, he realized, but not of ownership. He didn’t take credit for this transformation or even for the discovery of her.

No, he was simply proud to be with a woman who shone brighter than the midday sun.