“You could have told me the truth from the outset.”
“I couldn’t, believe me.”
I turn around again to look him in the eye. “Then you should’ve kept me at arm’s length. You should’ve made sure I didn’t fall in love with you!”
“That was the plan,” he says. “And I tried! God knows, I did. But you proved irresistible.”
“Go on, call me a temptress!”
“That’s not what I meant.” He strokes my hip. “I was prepared to deal with a siren, a cheap femme fatale.But you turned out to be honest, open, funny, naturally sensual…”
He hesitates, as if summoning up courage.
I hold my breath.Is he going to admit he has feelings for me?
“I want you so much, Laura! If you…” He searches my face. “Would you like to make love one last time?”
I recoil like I’ve been slapped.
He freezes up.
“Not a chance!” I yell. “You wanted me to learn to say no. Well, here it comes. I want you to leave! I can’t stand the sight of you anymore. Get out!”
His face darkens and his hand falls away.
I point to the door. “Out!”
“Laura—”
“You’re rich, right?” I snap. “Go book yourself another room. Leave me alone!”
For a moment, he doesn’t move, his eyes searching mine as if looking for a sign that I didn’t really mean it. When he finds none, he releases a defeated sigh and climbs out of the bed. Silently, he gathers his clothes, wallet, and shoes. He pauses at the door and looks back over his shoulder. I turn to the window. The door clicks shut behind him.
Alone at last, I let the tears flow unrestrained.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
ANTOINE
The rhythmic sound of hooves on gravel fills the air as I guide my horse up the gentle incline. Celeste rides beside me. Her posture is impeccable and her auburn hair glistens in the late afternoon sun. The lush green hills of the Bellay estate unfold before us like a scene from a postcard. I look at Celeste again.
Such grace!
True, no one would call her “cute” or even “sweet”—her strong facial features have made sure of that. But, frankly, who needs “sweet” when you have such a perfect, athletic build and such elegance! She’s smart, too. And witty. In short, Celeste is my type of woman and my kindred spirit, physically and intellectually.
If that’s not the definition of a soulmate, then what is?
Certainly not my televised pairing with Laura, which Pedro had engineered to get me closer to her. Laura is the ultimate anti-Celeste. She’s cute, all right. Fine, let’s face it: she’s infinitely sweet. And I ended up enjoying her company more than I ever imagined. But we’re not alike. Laura Yang is not my soulmate.
Eyes and thoughts on Celeste, Antoine!
Right. Right. What other qualities can I think of?
Ah yes, how could I forget?Celeste is kind and generous. She’s a wonderful human being. She’d been a stand-in mom for her orphaned nephew for several years, until her brother Jonas, who’d adopted his dead twin’s son, gave the boy a loving stepmom.
And then there’s the de Valois blood, the bluest of the blue, running through her veins. Her mother, Marie-Louise, was born to a royal duke. No wonder my parents can’t wait to call Celeste their daughter-in-law!
“You wouldn’t believe the enthusiasm we’re already seeing for the competition,” Celeste says, interrupting my self-talk.
