shrugged. “I’m certainly not interested in myself. This is the most excitement I’ve had in my life. True story,” she assured him with a confirming nod. “You travel, at least. Meet famous people.”
“People who think they’re famous are boring as hell. That is a true story. But come on. You must have at least one deep, dark secret that makes you interesting.”
“One,” she allowed promptly, suppressing a smile. “But it’s not very dark. Dirty blond at best. And I’m not going to tell you.” She had decided that, since this was her one chance to act like a carefree young woman instead of a mom. It was harmless, she told herself. This was only dinner.
“I want to hear it,” he insisted.
She shook her head, firm. “You’ll think differently of me. But what about you? Any dark secrets falling out of your pockets?”
* * *
His guard was so low he almost told her about Nic. The fact his siblings had kept the man’s existence from him had completely unraveled his view of his life and his place in the family. The exclusion had rocked his foundation, and he’d begun mentally separating from them, thinking more seriously about starting his own marketing firm.
Gideon had called a few weeks later to announce Adara’s pregnancy and to inform Demitri that he would be expected to step up and take on extra hours in the family business. Demitri had been needed again. Integral to the business and to his sister. Things had gone back to normal for a while, but then Adara had started trying to get everyone together. She and Theo were as thick as thieves with their parenthood jokes, and he was once again on the outside looking in.
They weren’t even leaning on him at work anymore. Quite the opposite, which was eating at his sense of self. With practiced ease he turned his mind from all of that, distracting Natalie with some of his stock stories that always drew a laugh. He knew loads of celebrities and had made a career of partying with them. His siblings had certainly never loosened up enough to ensure their highest-paying guests had fun.
That was Demitri’s job: creating distraction. Drawing and holding attention.
Natalie was rapt, thoroughly engaged with everything he told her. It wasn’t a strange occurrence for him. Everyone, women especially, responded to him. He’d recognized it early and used it to this day. The difference tonight was how much he enjoyed her attention while at the same time resenting that she wanted him to talk when he wanted to hear more about her.
They lingered over their meal, finishing the bottle of wine and nursing coffee, steering away from personal topics in favor of movies and news scandals and places he’d been that she’d like to visit.
“You’re a single woman. Get on a plane,” he ordered. “What’s holding you back?”
“I did get on a plane,” she argued good-naturedly, shielding her eyes with a downward sweep of her lashes. “I’m here. Dining on the Seine. Thank you for a lovely evening,” she added, flashing her gaze back up to his. “This is what I’d hoped for when I applied for this trip.”
She’d been looking for a man to seduce her. He could see it and a pulse of sexual excitement pumped through him. But seduction required patience, he reminded himself.
“Do you like dancing? We could go to a club.”
“I... It’s a work night,” she argued, but the slant of her gaze told him she was tempted.
He smirked. “I begin to see why you don’t have a life.” He signaled for the check.
“Note to self—boss thinks a work ethic is overrated,” she chirped.
“I’m not your boss,” he reminded. “C’mon. I know you want to tick the box on dance in a Paris nightclub.”
“Yes, but...” She canted her head at him, nose wrinkled. “I’m not dressed for it.”
“Believe me, truly cool people do not dress for clubs. They drop in on impulse.”
“And get turned away at the door for not being on the list.”
“You’re adorable. I’m always on the list.”
* * *
She had definitely had one glass too many if she was teetering into not giving a damn about work or propriety, but Demitri was a difficult man to say no to. He took her hand and wound her through the restaurant, tucking her into the back of the limo and angling his body so he looked at her the whole way to the club.
“This is a bad idea,” she insisted, trying desperately to hang on to a few grains of common sense while turning a challenging look on him that only clicked into a locked gaze with his.
His grin widened. “Because it’s turning into more than dinner?”
“You’re the kind of man who always gets what he wants, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he answered without reserve.
Be careful, Natalie. Be very, very careful.
“Well, I’m only going along out of curiosity,” she excused with a toss of her hair. “Don’t say I led you on. Oh, we won’t even get in,” she added as they pulled up at the entrance where a hundred people stood in the rain, all dressed to the nines.
He made a pithy noise and waited until the chauffeur had opened the door and held an umbrella for them, walking them to the door.
“Jean,” Demitri greeted the doorman, slipping him a bill without even pausing.
Pounding music accosted them as they entered the dark interior. Flashes of neon pierced the violet glow while strips of white stood out in stark contrast. As they wound through the crowded tables and bouncing bodies, a stunning woman with a lot of dark skin exposed by her French maid inspired two-piece bikini lowered her serving tray and kissed both of Demitri’s cheeks. They had a brief conversation, she pointed, he nodded and then he tugged Natalie along with him as they continued toward the back of the club.
He said something into her ear, but she must have heard him wrong. She looked to the stage, but that DJ couldn’t be the pop star he’d just mentioned.
Maybe it was, though. A chart-topping band occupied the VIP section and rose to greet Demitri with exuberance when he arrived, insisting they join their entourage, which included a dozen people, three of whom she recognized, two from television and one from a blockbuster movie. More champagne was ordered and she was pressed into a chair next to a movie star.
Oh, sweet Lord. What kind of life had she stepped into that she was partying in Paris with celebrities? No wonder women dropped like flies for Demitri. He plucked them out of their boring little lives and set them into fantasy worlds where money wasn’t mentioned and rich, gorgeous men flattered you shamelessly.
Not that she felt the same frisson of awareness and excitement when this very handsome actor leaned in to fawn over her, but the way he kept asking her about herself, as though he was genuinely interested, was enormously gratifying to her small-time ego. When he asked her to dance, of course she said yes. What a story to tell her grandchildren! I once danced in Paris with a movie star.
He
