A Very French Affair: Bought for the Frenchman's Pleasure / Breaking the Boss's Rules / Her Secret Husband

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‘But you know, Sorch, I’d much prefer to taste your sweetness. Christian told me all about you…how sweet you taste…’

A black hole threatened to consume Sorcha. Her deepest, darkest fear was being articulated out loud, here, by this odious man.

‘Come on, Sorch, just a kiss…’

He pulled her into his wiry body, and she struggled in earnest now. This was a nightmare. What had possessed her to think she could reason with someone like this?

Bending away so far that it felt her back might break, she still felt hot breath on her neck. Panic gripped her. She pushed against him. ‘Dominic—no!’

‘Come on…just pretend it’s lover boy…’

His mouth touched her skin. She felt teeth. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and then in an instant he was gone, pulled back so brutally that she went forward with him, and would have fallen if Romain hadn’t caught her, an arm holding her steady away from Dominic.

‘This is not the time or place.’ His voice was so chilling that Sorcha was reminded of the previous day. ‘Now, go back out there and finish the job you’ve been paid to do.’

Dominic just nodded, a mottled flush on his cheeks, his eyes overbright. Sorcha couldn’t believe it. He was high! How had she not even noticed?

When he had gone, Romain turned Sorcha to face him. She was shaking all over. He didn’t allow it to move him. He was still hard and unrelenting.

‘We’ll talk about this later.’

He had a hand under her arm and was leading her back outside. Her neck still stung from where Dominic had practically bitten her, and she still couldn’t believe it. Did Romain really think that he’d interrupted them lovemaking?

Forcing herself not to let a wave of self-pity engulf her, Sorcha called on all her professional pride and somehow got through the rest of the day. When they wrapped she stuck close to Val, and made sure she was on a boat with him. Dark shades covered her bruised eyes. Her mouth was a grim line. When she got off the boat and she heard a familiar voice behind her she stopped, but didn’t turn around. Her slim shoulders were rigid with tension.

Romain came and stood in front of her. She could see the rest of the crew walking away towards the hotel.

‘You can avoid me all you want, Sorcha, but ultimately you won’t be able to. You know that, don’t you? And you will tell me what was going on with Dominic.’

She said nothing. Didn’t move. If she had looked she’d have seen his jaw clench angrily at her stony silence.

Romain could see her throat work. Dark shades covered her eyes, and he nearly moved to take them off but at the last minute didn’t. Almost as though he was afraid of what he might see…?

Instead he cupped a hand around her jaw, felt the delicate line and saw a pulse jump in response.

‘Be down in the lobby for dinner at seven.’ His voice was silky, deadly. ‘And if you’re not I will come and get you.’

That evening Sorcha stepped out of the lift at seven on the dot. She was dressed traditionally in a salwaar kameez with her hair pulled back, plain hoop earrings, and she had her glasses on. Protective armour.

Romain watched her approach and felt the familiar tightening happen in his body at the way the black material clung and curved around her body, the tight trousers under the tunic making her legs look long and slim. Tonight he would have her. Make her pay.

To Sorcha’s intense relief she saw the rest of the crew and remembered that they were all going for dinner together. A reprieve. She made for Val, seeking protection but Romain blocked her before she could get to him.

He could see the frustration on her face, but he took her arm, and unless she wanted to create a scene Sorcha would have to leave it there. He made a joke with Simon, and then led the way down the street to a beautiful restaurant on the shores of the lake.

When Sorcha saw that Romain meant to have her sit next to him, and that Dominic looked likely to be on the other side of her, it was too much. She didn’t care. She reacted on pure, desperate impulse and grabbed Romain’s hand, making him look at her with surprise, his dark brows drawing together.

She entreated with her eyes, with all she had. It was the first thing she’d said to him all day and her voice sounded unbearably husky. ‘Please. I don’t want to sit next to him.’

She couldn’t stop a shudder running through her, and Romain’s frown drew even deeper as he noticed the minute movement. He looked to his side and saw Dominic taking a seat. For some reason, and not wanting to look too closely at why, he just nodded perfunctorily and let himself sit between Dominic and Sorcha.

An hour later Sorcha was pushing food around her plate. It was still heaped high with food that she couldn’t touch, because her insides were churning so much.

‘Smile, Sorcha, you look as if you’re going to the gallows. And you haven’t eaten all day. You should make some effort.’

She cast a quick glance to Romain on her left. ‘Don’t tell me you’re concerned?’

‘Not at all,’ he said easily, and draped an arm along the back of her chair, making her pulse trip predictably. ‘You’re going to need your energy for later…that’s all.’ And he took a studied sip from his wine glass.

Sorcha gripped the napkin that was on her lap and twisted it.

He got caught in a conversation with Simon across the table, and Sorcha turned with relief to Val, who was on her other side. He was looking at her with a concerned face.

‘What’s up, Sorch? Every time I look at you you’re either flushed like you have a fever or deathly pale…’

She forced a smile. ‘Nothing. Just tired, I guess.’

Val jerked his head in the direction of Romain. ‘Well, he’s been about as subtle as a dog marking his territory.’

Sorcha’s spine straightened. ‘I don’t know what—’

Val snorted. ‘Please. From day one he’s marked you as his.’ He took her hand under the table and said in a serious voice under his breath, ‘Sorch, I mean this in the best possible way, but you are not like the women he goes for. I’ve seen the casualties of that man dumped by the wayside, and it’s not pretty.’

Sorcha felt hysteria not too far from the surface. ‘Val—’

‘Just…be careful. That’s all I’m saying. I don’t want to see you get hurt…’

As Val gave her hand a quick squeeze and turned away, Sorcha had to swallow painfully. Too late for that. If Romain had his way she’d become his mistress tonight, and be well on the way to becoming his next casualty.

With an abrupt movement she stood up. Romain seized her wrist in a lightning-fast grip. Nobody else seemed to have noticed, but she glared down at him. ‘What do you think you’re doing, Romain?’

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘The toilet—if I may?’ She arched a brow.

He glowered up at her, but finally released her and watched her every step of the way as she left.

When she came back he looked at her suspiciously. The reality was so far from what he obviously imagined it was laughable, and she wondered just what she was really doing protecting Lucy. Was the thought of Romain being antagonistic somehow easier to deal with than Romain charming her to seduce her? An uncomfortable prickling assailed her, and she knew she didn’t want to look at that.

A splitting headache made her temples throb, and she knew it was from the tension and stress.

Romain looked at her as she pinched the bridge of her nose. He felt irritation rise. Big, wary blue eyes snagged his then, and his breath caught for a second in his throat. God, but she was beautiful.

Sorcha met his grey fathomless gaze head-on. She had to at least try. ‘I’m going to go back to the hotel. I’m tired and I have a headache.’

Romain used every bit of will-power to control the carnal urge to just carry her off then and there. He would not let her reduce him to such base behaviour. He shook his head. ‘You’re not going anywhere until I say so, and I am not ready to leave.’

Sorcha leant in towards him, agitated. His gaze dropped to the shadowy line of her cleavage under the V of the top. His body hardened in anticipation.

‘I’m not a prisoner, you know.’

He looked at her intently. ‘No…there’s another word for what you are…’

Sorcha sagged back and fell silent.

An hour later Sorcha looked around her in dismay. Somehow someone had persuaded everyone to go to a small bar not far from where they were staying, and even though she dreaded going back to the hotel, and hadn’t really contemplated what would happen when she did, she wished she was anywhere but there. With everyone getting drunk around her—apart from Romain, of course, who was in complete control, and disconcertingly as at home here as he had been in five-star surroundings—Sorcha felt absurdly sober.