‘You want me to be honest? Fine.’ He sat back in his seat. ‘When I first saw you in that ballroom I pinned you as yet another husband hunter, joining the pack. I didn’t know your name but I knew your type. Desperate to be noticed. You were everything I deliberately avoid, and yet...I couldn’t take my eyes off you.’ He took a sip of his wine, keeping her pinned with his eyes as he continued to speak in that low, husky tone. ‘I kept seeking you out in the room, listening for your laugh. It was irritating, and damned infectious, and it made me desperate to know what the hell was so funny.’
Nicole remembered looking up into those deep blue eyes for the first time, being pinned by the infamous Marchesi blue gaze. She had already been far out of her depth and she hadn’t even known it.
‘You entranced me, Nicole. It’s rare that I do anything without a second thought. But with you... I don’t think either of us did much thinking after that first dance.’
She felt his gaze sweep over her features, down past the neckline of her dress. It wasn’t leering or inappropriate, the way he looked at her. It was the same way he had looked at her that night all those months ago. As though she were a work of art that his eyes needed to worship and savour. As though she was the singularly most beautiful woman on the earth.
She bit her lip, calming the rage of hormones that seemed to have risen within her. It must be a combination of the wine and being out for the first time in a long time, she argued with herself, and nothing to do with the magnetic male presence across the table from her.
‘And now look—it seems I’ve caught myself a husband after all.’ She raised her glass in a mock toast, desperate to steer the conversation back to safer waters.
‘If that were true you might possibly be the most forward-planning woman in history.’
His words were intended as jest, but Nicole could see a hint of speculation in his eyes.
They were interrupted by the arrival of the first dish: the chef’s specialty, pâté en croute. Nicole took her first bite and stifled the urge to moan. This was so more than just food. It was a work of culinary art. It made the tension of their conversation melt away as the food took over.
The meal passed slowly from there, with the chef changing the wine with every new dish. In typical French style they took their time—food in France was an event after all.
Rigo asked politely about her life in L’Annique. She told him about her farmhouse, La Petite, and the relatively quiet life she had led. Her heart mourned the loss of the secluded paradise she had created for herself and her daughter. The daughter he hadn’t even held yet...
By the time the waiter had finished clearing away their fifth tasting—a dish of succulent lobster claws on a bed of warm rhubarb—Nicole was feeling thoroughly indulged and refused the offer of a dessert platter. Rigo agreed, dismissing the waiter, who removed himself swiftly, leaving them alone.
‘I have something to give you,’ he said.
Nicole watched as Rigo reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a small grey lacquered box with a single silver rose painted on top. She had been in Paris on enough occasions in the past to know that the box came from Fournier, one of the most expensive luxury jewellery boutiques in the city. She felt her stomach clench tightly as he laid it on the table in front of her.
Without a word she eased open the top and took a moment to survey the glittering diamond ring that lay within. It was huge. The large white diamond virtually dwarfed the rest of the platinum band, which was encrusted with more sparkling gems.
‘This looks...very expensive,’ she offered, not exactly knowing what else to say as she laid the box back down on the table.
‘I gave it to you to put on, Nicole. Not to decorate the table.’
When she didn’t make an immediate move he leaned forward, taking the ring out of the box and offering his hand to her. She placed her hand in his and watched as he slid the band slowly onto her third finger. The stone was so large it bumped her knuckle.
Rigo surveyed the end result before releasing her hand. ‘Now. You are officially my fiancée.’
Nicole looked up at the man she had agreed to join her life with and tried to resist the urge to scratch at the band so tightly clamped on her finger. Biting her lip, she swirled the remaining wine around her glass a couple of times.
A phone beeped. Rigo pulled a sleek black device from his pocket and frowned at the screen. ‘The press have arrived. I had our location leaked.’
‘They’re here?’ Nicole breathed, looking around as though expecting cameras to start appearing from the walls.
He nodded. ‘Outside. It’s time for us to leave.’ He stood and motioned for the waiter to retrieve their coats.
Nicole wrapped her light jacket around her shoulders, hurrying to catch up with his long strides. Rigo stopped just before the open doorway, turning to her and taking her hand in his. His skin was hard and warm on hers and he stood so close she could smell the scent of aftershave on his skin.
‘All you need to do is act naturally.’
Nicole nodded, her insides quivering at the familiarity of the situation. ‘Act naturally’—what a paradoxical phrase. There was nothing natural about this relationship...nothing to help her feel comfortable by Rigo’s side. She had done this a thousand times—waited in anticipation before playing her part for the press. Only this time she wasn’t alone.
Rigo stepped forward, and the dull hum of the crowd outside travelled through the air. She barely caught a glimpse of the first flash before Rigo’s head suddenly descended, his lips covering hers in a kiss that took her breath away. Momentarily stunned, Nicole didn’t dare to move as his scent enveloped her, his warm muscular forearm sliding around her waist to hold her against the hard planes of his abdomen.
His lips grew more demanding as his tongue demanded entrance, sliding hot and hard against hers in a sinfully erotic rhythm. His other hand swept her hair back and rested against her cheek, the heat of his palm seeming to scorch her. She moaned low in her throat as she finally began to give in to the delicious sensation—only to have Rigo break the kiss just as quickly as it had begun.
His voice was low and husky in her ear as he turned them both to face the wall of cameras. ‘Make sure they see the ring.’
RIGO BRACED BOTH hands on the marble countertop of the master bathroom. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled in one long burst in an effort to alleviate his tension. That kiss had been planned because he knew a candid shot would get them on the front page. But his reaction had taken him completely by surprise.
He was stressed—that was the only logical answer for a grown man having to fight off his libido after one kiss. Even as a hormone-addled teenager in boarding school he had been the most rational and in control of his peers.
Scowling at his reflection in the mirror, he decided a long cold shower was in order, to clear his brain. He unbuttoned his shirt and folded it neatly into the linen basket, doing the same with his trousers. He had just removed his boxer shorts when the door to the bathroom swung open unexpectedly.
Nicole’s
