Own Me
CHAPTER ONE
Fabien
Her name is Nicolette.
Gray-green eyes as soft as velvet.
Rosy red cheeks and a heart-shaped mouth that?—
“Fabien.”
I look up at my mother from my steak, fork and knife poised in each hand.
“Are you listening at all?”
I'm not used to eating with other people. This is the first time I've come back to my childhood home in three months.
“He’s doing it again,” Thayer mutters.
I work alone, I work long hours, and I work in quiet, unless I need to call in backup.
Except when I come home.
Today, though, my mind is a million miles away because of the security footage I saw before I joined them for dinner. They think I’m focused on work.
I’m not interested in eating. I’m interested in the woman with the delicate but proud features, and an abundance of dark curls that grace her shoulders. The woman with eyes both intelligent and strong but curious and compelling enough to make me wonder… how easily would she submit to me?
The woman I’ll buy.
“Fabien. Please. This matters. Did you hear a word I said?”
“I heard a few,” I say in protest. “Something about… wine, and appetizers, and a live band for Antoine’s wedding.”
“What’s on your mind?” Maman asks curiously.
I will own Nicolette.
I’ve already sent a message to Gwen to cancel Nicolette’s clients for the rest of the night.
I definitely can’t tell her that. I won’t tell anyone. I don’t need anyone to stand in my way because I will have this woman no matter the cost.
“Crunching the numbers?” Thayer asks. “Where are we profit-wise?”
“Boys, if you’re talking about what I think you are…” Maman begins with a wince.
“Twelve million.”
“Compared to last year’s numbers, the tight business we run in Corsica’s booming, thanks to an influx of tourists,” Thayer says.
“It’s about damn time. Given that it’s one of many businesses we run, we’re in a good place. And if your plan to expand works, we could double our profit in two years’ time. The plan’s contingent on many factors, though.”
“Slipping under the radar?” Thayer supplies.
The ancient buildings and cobblestoned streets of Corsica, under the shadow of majestic mountains, aren’t the only things that are outdated. Hard to imagine the laws still prohibit paid prostitution. Brothel-keeping and pimping carry the heaviest sentences of all.
Goddamn Puritans.
