I put a finger under her chin and brush my lips against hers. “A kiss would be better. But we’ll make do.”
She swallows and looks at me with eyes wide with hunger.Fuck yeah!
“Come take my order,guapo?*; I’ll even kiss you for free,” the same woman who bantered with Tara earlier says.
“Keep your lips to yourself,” Tara mutters and then rolls her eyes before going on tiptoe and placing her lips on mine. It lasts three seconds, but it’s all I need for now—next time, we’ll double that.
“Happy?”she asks.
I lean closer, my lips close to her ear. “I’ll be happy,mon amour, when you’re under me and I’m inside you.”
Her cheeks go pink, and the fist holding my heart loosens.I’m going to win her back. I know it now. It’s going to take time for her to trust me, but itwillhappen.
When I get back to the Ritz that night, I tell Aubert about my new job.
He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, as Tara had.
“How long will you be doing thisjob?” he asks.
I shrug. “As long as it takes to win her back, son.” I check my watch. “Now, I need to make some changes at work so I have time for my new gig.”
“Papa, sometimes, you surprise me in the best way possible,” Aubert says and makes me feel ten feet tall.
* How’s it going? (Spanish)
* Very good (Spanish)
* My pleasure (French)
* Handsome (Spanish)
CHAPTER 29
Tara
It’s ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. Gustave de Valois—Count, aristocrat, patron of the arts, fixture of European gossip pages—has been working as a server in my father’s restaurant for a month.
A whole month.
He balances plates now without dropping them, he says “gracias” with a French accent, and he even laughs when my cousins mock his attempts at rolling tortillas.
And I love it.
Every day I tell myself not to give in, not to let him back into my heart. And every day he chips at the walls I built.
One night, after the dinner rush, I find him sweeping. Yes, Count de Valois sweeps the floor and does it damn well.
“Bonjour, mon amour.” He leans on the broom like it’s a cane. “How’s the Liotard doing?”
“Very well.”
“Come here.” He crooks a finger and beckons.
I walk up to him, swaying as I do. Alarm bells are going off in my head. This is wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
I stop a foot away.
“Closer,” he murmurs, his eyes heated. My body responds. My clit throbs.
