Page 63 of Brutal Heir

“That job is over.”

“He needs a fashion stylist for the website catalogue. I’m the primary candidate.”

“Your new position at the House of Diamanti is far more prestigious.”

She twisted the napkin between her hands. “But I earned the Édouard Sauvage-Lafleur position.”

“Oh, trust me. You’ll earn this one.”

She tossed her napkin onto her plate and shoved her chair out before storming off the balcony.

I found her rifling through the hangers in the walk-in closet. “Where is the safe? I need my purse.”

I leaned against the doorframe as I crossed my arms. “What do you think you’re doing?”

On her knees, she pushed my trouser hangers along the lower rack. “I told you, looking for my purse. It was nice of you to offer to get me a different outfit, but this shirt is fine until I get back to my rental flat.”

“Do you honestly think I’ll allow you to roam the streets of Paris half naked for every man to ogle?”

She sat back on her heels. “I honestly thought how I was dressed was none of your fucking business. The safe, please.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then I’ll leave this room and get hotel security.”

I liked her spirit.

It was misplaced and fruitless, but admirable, nonetheless.

Her banter amused me, so I fired back. “It would be difficult to get past my own security guards.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You have guards?”

I nodded. “Two of them. Posted just outside the door.”

“So I am a prisoner here!”

I shook my head. “Nothing of the kind. The millions of euros’ worth of diamonds in the safe necessitate guards.”

“Oh…”

I went down on my haunches in front of her kneeling form. “If you keep thinking the worst of me, little one, I’m going to take offense.”

She played with the hem of my shirt as one long curl partially obscured her face. “You are only offering me a dream job with the House of Diamanti because I slept with you. As much as I would love to ignore my pride and take it, I can’t. People would talk.”

“I’m not making you a job offer, Sabrina. I’m telling you, it’s your new job. If anyone has an issue with my decision, they can fuck off.”

“Well, I don’t accept.”

With her hands in mine, I lifted her to her feet.

When she still refused to meet my gaze, I placed a finger under her chin. “Listen carefully. I’m familiar with your work. This new position is based on your talent as a fashion stylist, not for any personal reasons.”

She thought she'd got the job because I'd fucked her.

But the truth was simpler.

She got it because she was a weapon.