Olivier’s parties were legendary! Women and men to sample galore, and what he promised to do to me later? I hope I had an audience! I might crack and hit a note high enough to shatter glass. Imagine the applause!
“Oui,” he said. “I carry a copy of my latest paperwork with me. It is a must at my parties. Do you have yours?”
“I came prepared,” I said.
We turned a corner and joined most of the guests in the grand ballroom.
“I look over every bill of health myself.”
“Mmmm.” I had to stop walking and close my eyes. It felt like I was about to explode. “I.” I panted. “Will. See. To. The. Other. Papers. Myself.”
He pinched me on the ass, and I gasped, trying to get as close to his hand as possible. I already needed relief. He studied my face, before he yanked me in the other direction and locked us inside of a bathroom. He tore down my dress, and inserting his finger inside of myfica, started to nip me while I screamed out my orgasm.
The pleasure did not stop rolling through me, though. I wanted the toy deeper inside of me, stretching me so I could accommodate Olivier’s size later. He switched the toy out for a longer and thicker one. And this time, I orgasmed while he watched. He started to stroke himself, and after he exploded in a towel hanging on the rack in the bathroom, he ordered me to clean him up with my mouth.
I shook my head. “Not until I see the proof.”
“You are no fun,” he said, almost pouting, but then a possessed look came into his eyes, and he grinned. “You will pay for that later.”
“I am looking forward to it.” I winked at him, licking my lips.
I was still overheated and overstimulated, though, and sensitive to all touch. Olivier kept his distance from me after we left the bathroom, the tease, and he directed me back to the ballroom with nods of his head. It almost seemed like he was being respectful, the way his hand hovered behind me. My eyes met his, and we both laughed a little. Until we stopped on the threshold of the dance floor.
“Trouble,” he said, nodding toward a man and woman standing on the opposite side.
She was tiny, and extremely beautiful. That was high praise coming from me. I rarely gave a compliment because I found most things in the world did not deserve them. The man next to her…was the spitting image of my husband, except…
Darker.
There was a brooding intensity to him that my husband had, as well, but this man…it was encapsulated in his dark eyes.
Eyes that belonged to none other than Luca Fausti.
In general, all the men in the Fausti family resembled each other in ways that someone who knew the Fausti family would instantly recognize.
I knew them.
I recognized the family’s blood in this man, but I had never met him before.
There was no doubt in my mind, however, that he was not a son of Luca Fausti. I could feel it, as well as I could feel the possession of that man radiating toward that tiny woman.
I needed to be closer to him.
“Tell me, Olivier, will that couple there—” I nodded to them “—be invited members of the party tonight?”
Perhaps Olivier had insulted the man after he had invited the girl to the party later. She looked so sweet to almost be unreal. Her hair was auburn and lush, and styled in a Bridget Bardot voluminous style up top, the longer pieces cascading down her shoulders. Her skin was pale. But those eyes…feline.
If that woman had a dangerous bone in her body, that was where I would find the truth of it. Past those green eyes that were acombination of mine and my husband’s. It was as if his light green eyes washed down the dark of mine and created the color of hers.
Olivier barked out a laugh. “He would kill me for much less than even inviting Mademoiselle Poésy to one of my parties. Watch. Watch how he looks at me. This Brando.”
It was as if the dark-eyed man heard the challenge, and his eyes scanned the room for it. His searching gaze stopped on us, but he did not look at me. He stared at Olivier. If committing viscous murder had a look, the scene of one man stealing another man’s heart from his chest, that was the look this man wore for Olivier.
“He knows you have ill intentions toward his woman,” I said, gladly accepting a drink from a passing waiter. I held it up to Olivier. “You are drugging me tonight, ah?”
“Ah,” he said, getting that wicked gleam back in his eyes. “You will be set loose, beautiful songbird.”
“I do not need it,” I breathed against the glass, but then downed it. A waiter appeared and took it from me. “That name…Poésy.” I tapped my chin. “It sounds familiar.”
