 
# Bartered

### The Encounter Trilogy

## Pamela Ann

#### www.PamelaAnnBooks.com

### Contents

Synopsis

Copyrights

Acknowledgments

1. Hugo

2. Hugo

3. Hugo

4. Hugo

5. Isobel

6. Hugo

7. Isobel

8. Isobel

9. Isobel

10. Hugo

11. Isobel

12. Isobel

13. Isobel

14. Hugo

15. Isobel

16. Isobel

17. Hugo

18. Isobel

19. Isobel

20. Isobel

21. Isobel

22. Hugo

23. Isobel

24. Isobel

25. Hugo

26. Isobel

27. Isobel

The Encounter Trilogy

Unhinged Preview

Read Unhinged: Book 2

End Matter

# Synopsis

A woman could be... Everything. Anything. Nothing.

I was a connoisseur of beautiful things, women included. I had not just one, but three—all exotic, stunning and would do anything I asked.

My life was grand. It was perfect, and I was content with it all, until a little minx came along. The second our eyes clashed, giving me a glimpse of her violet blue depths that had a mixture of stubbornness and will, though with a hint of something else...

Choices were made. Decisions were done.

And, for the very first time in my life, I was challenged with something risky, igniting the animal in me.
**Pamela Ann**

**Bartered**

(The Encounter Trilogy)

**Copyright © 2014 by Pamela Ann**

**All rights reserved**.

* * *

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without a written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

* * *

**Join & subscribe Pamela Ann's newsletter for updates, new releases and more: ****Newsletter**

# Acknowledgments

To my Poppets, most especially Sherry, Chantel and Louise—thank you for letting me use your names! And to the rest of the crew, your love and support for my work has helped me get through some tough times...when I'm emotionally and mentally drained. I can't thank you guys enough.

Ashley Suzanne, you've been such a true gem of a friend. Words can't be expressed enough...

To my editors, Kristin and Alizon, thank you for tolerating me. LOL. You ladies are beyond amazing.

Lastly, to the readers—none of this would be possible without your support. Your

encouragement and enthusiasm fills me with gratitude. Thank you for letting me pursue my passion.

* * *

Always yours,

Pamela Ann
_For Phillip..._

* * *

Your undying devotion, unwavering love

and ceaseless patience puts mine to shame.

Thank you for being the brilliant nonsensical

all-around person that's always been there for me.

## 1

# Hugo

"Mr. Xavier, your presence is needed sir," Benoît, my head of security, prompted me the second I hung up the conference call I'd had from England.

I considered him a moment, pausing as I raised my brow, before responding to him with a curt question. "In regards to what?"

My life revolved mostly around work. It was the love of my life. _The Riviera_ had been in my family for generations. It was more than a five-star, luxury hotel that offered one of Europe's finest casinos; it was in a class of its own. It was a legacy that ran in my blood. It became my soul when I had nothing left going on with my life.

_This_ was all I possessed.

The power.

The prestige.

The privilege.

Benoît cleared his throat before answering me with his own raised brow, "It's about Miss Dana Bateau, sir. One of the cleaning ladies found her in your library, trying to open your safe." He paused before sharply adding, "Sir."

Dana... trying to open my safe... She's been with me for over six months, so was this her first attempt? Or the first time she had ever gotten caught?

I met her through Javier; a man I socialized with yet never welcomed in my circle of trusted friends. Come to think of it, I didn't have friends. I had partners, associates, acquaintances, but never friendships. I didn't trust a lot of people, and the ones I did were a puny, trusted circle. Dana obviously wasn't in it.

"Where is she now?" I calmly asked as I turned my attention back to the screen, staring at the message that was before me while I waited for Benoît to continue.

"She's being held in the villa, sir. We're waiting for your orders."

"Hmm," I murmured nonchalantly before getting up and striding to the vast glass that covered the entire wall looking down on the night beauty of the lights of Monaco. "Wait for me downstairs. I need a moment." Gently barking out an order, I didn't move until I heard the soft shut of the heavy oak door before strolling towards the marbled table for my humidor. Cuban cigars were lined accordingly. Precisely. Just like my life—it was a well-oiled machine. Although, from time to time, one would find some problems. The imperfections. Like Dana.

Plucking one out of the leathered case, I reached for my ivory encrusted cutter. It was a present from one of my lovers; one of the few gifts I truly enjoyed. The ivory tusk it had come from wasn't the byproduct of a poacher—or such was Evangeline's promise. She'd said it was from her elephant pet who had become horribly ill and they'd had to end her life. She'd loved the pet so much that she wanted me to have something beautiful that had meaning. She was one of the tribal African princesses, so I didn't question her. _Surely princesses didn't lie?_ I thought with amusement as I recalled her stating the same thing. She was a woman of beauty and quick wit. I admired that about her. It was unfortunate when we ended our relationship because she was due to marry someone of high ranking from her country.

Lighting my cigar, I thought of Dana and the contents of the safe. The items in there were of value, however they were of no importance in regards to anything vital—those were kept in a place where no one could access it other than myself.

Taking a long draw, I was leisurely exhaling the smoke as I savored the smooth taste it left on my tongue when I heard another knock. Angered that someone dared knock on my door when I had given orders not to be disturbed other than by Benoît, I practically growled in response.

"What?"

I heard the man himself clear his throat before breaking more news. "There's another urgent matter, sir."

" _Merde!_ " It was barely noon and this day had led more surprises than Bastille Day. "Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?" (What's happened?)

I wasn't known for my temper, nor did I often display it, most especially to the people I employed, but for the past week after that short and curt meeting I'd had with my father, I'd been on a short fuse, about to explode like a ticking time bomb to whomever stepped on my wrong foot.

Father kept reminding me of the oath I had taken. Each year was the very same speech, and it wasn't as if I was going to ever forget my vow. Yet every year, on the very same day, he visited to make sure I was in check—that I wasn't being reckless, as he sarcastically put it.

Reckless wasn't part of my anatomy, however the old man persisted. Though I couldn't lay the blame on him; we both weren't at fault that we had been cursed. It had caused my father tremendous pain and suffering, and his "yearly reminder" was done out of love with a hefty amount of caution. It was a curse we both grieved and would endure until we left this earth.

Benoît came into view, seeming undeterred from my outburst. "It's a matter of a Class A client, sir. He was caught counting cards, and when security detained him, it showed he had insufficient funds to reimburse the checks."

Money made the world go fucking round and round, just as it did with mine.

"How much does he owe?"

"Three hundred thousand euros," he uttered without a blink.

"C'est des conneries!" (This is bullshit!) "This man owes me three hundred thousand euros, and he still managed to get inside my casino to gamble some more—, _and security didn't flag him?_"

"The finance department wasn't notified until an hour ago. The security team wouldn't have known that, Monsieur Xavier. Our men follow protocols, never fear of that."

They did. Of course, he was right. He was the one who made sure everything was perfect. Batard.

"Where's this man now?"

"He's in one of the rooms next to the finance office, Monsieur."

"Meet me in the casino in the elevator lobby in ten minutes." I nodded, nose flaring as I put down my cigar, wondering how unlucky I was to be dealing with such bullshit so early in the morning.

## 2

# Hugo

"My daughter—she'll work the debt off," the man before me said in such a temperamental tone it somehow set me off like a rocket.

"I beg your pardon? I don't do this sort of negotiation, Monsieur Callas—you must be mistaken." This pompous ass of a man was telling me that his daughter— _his very own daughter_ —was to pay off his debts. What a disgrace! The likes of him didn't deserve any love and support from a daughter he would unthinkably offer like they were chopped meat from a butcher's stall.

My subtle decline of his "generous" offer seemed not enough to get my point across because he pulled out his phone before sliding it towards me. "She's willing to pay the debt off for me, _if_ you let me walk out of the door without charges."

_Mon Dieu!_ This man was beyond appallingly dense. "And what do you suppose she'd do, Monsieur Callas? I am fully staffed. Paying off three hundred thousand euros would take her years—I don't have such time to waste. I'm running an empire, _not_ a trade show." I ignored the phone before me, unwilling to even consider the most absurd of ideas.

This wasn't the first time a man had written bad checks. In fact, this sort of atrociousness happened all the time. Rich men who couldn't afford to bankroll their expensive lifestyle anymore were willing to auction off their best assets; heirlooms, paintings, cars, yachts—name it, I'd taken them all. I was ruthless in the business arena and every time a man offered their wife or daughters to "pay the debts off," not only was I harder to negotiate for terms after, but I simply lost respect for them as a person, as a man.

A knock on the door interrupted us.

" _Oui_?" Barking at the mahogany door, I loosened my tie as I felt my temper rising. Truly, this day was outrageous.

"His daughter is here, sir. She's requesting to see her father." Benoît's voice came through the slit of the slightly ajar door.

"Merde!" I muttered through my gritted teeth as I glared at the overly confident man before me. "You invited her here?" I said accusingly.

Dark, detached eyes met my own. "I alerted her the second the security team asked me to step aside. She lives close. Besides, you might find her a gem."

This was becoming a circus. Was this man's gambling a family affair then?

"Let her in—" _This better be worth my time_ , I thought the second the words left my lips.

Constantin Callas was known to be a brash, unscrupulous womanizer and a degenerate gambler. This was the first time I had met the man, and I disliked him on the spot.

Both of our heads turned towards the door when we heard it creak open. Upon entering, a slim figure of a woman with ink black hair and the most fascinating eyes with a small, delicate face captured my undivided attention, striking me like I had never been before in my life. My throat and my groin constricted at the same time, spellbound by the beauty and confidence she exuded. What a sight she was....

"I apologize for interrupting your meeting, Mr. Xavier, but my father said it was urgent I join you both." Her voice was soft, yet it hinted of enough force to mean she was to be taken seriously. Well, the woman walked into the right room because things truly just became serious.

"Leave us," I commanded, eyes unwavering at her while the rest of the party in the room, including her father, started to retreat behind the doors. The moment I heard silence, I decided I wanted a better view, therefore I stood up, face not giving away my thoughts, as I sized the would-be prize. My eyes roved over her delicate figure, admiring her beguiling beauty. "What's your name?"

Her eyes snapped to mine, enthralling me for a second. A heartbeat. "Isobel," she stated proudly as those blue eyes with hints of violet struck me within. It was immediate. The rush so potent it left me reeling. I felt it in my gut, fueling the heated fire in my groin all the way to my cock.

"Isobel," I tried her name on my lips, unsure what to make of it. "So... Isobel... _What_ are you doing here?"

She met my gaze, brazen and painstakingly beautiful. "I'm here to help my father."

Ah, the old man. He was a man who knew quality, and he was certain I would get entranced the moment I laid eyes on his daughter. He knew how to bargain, I'd have to give him credit for that.

"How do you plan to help your father, Isobel?" I raised my brow, wanting to see where and how far she'd take this conversation. "Three hundred thousand euros is not a small number."

Determined, she only lifted her chin at me. "I can work for you—be a secretary, a cook, a companion," she rasped out. "I could be whatever you like..." She trailed off at the last bit of the sentence.

My mouth quirked when she couldn't utter what she truly meant. No, she didn't blush, but I could tell it made her uncomfortable. As it should. No right-minded woman should offer herself to pay off her father's debts.

"I have three girlfriends—well, two at the moment." I retracted the second I recalled what Dana had been up to. "I can get a woman without having to pay her that hefty amount."

She looked confused then panicked when my words finally sunk in. "Please, Mr. Xavier— _I beg you_ —I can fill in the third position."

She seemed desperate, making me more curious as to why she was doing this. There had to be a good reason. "Now, why would I do that? Do you have any special skills to please me that Sherry and Chantel can't do?"

Beautiful eyes blinked blankly at me. "No." She shook her head dejectedly. "I do not."

Gazing at her luminous skin, I felt almost tempted to touch it before common sense took over. "Very well. So tell me again, _why_ should I hire you?"

"Because you're a good man, and you'd take pity on me." Her voice was strained. "My father is a hard man, and I'm sure you have no ounce of remorse towards him, but my brother and I—my brother most especially needs him. If father decides to cut him off from his monthly allowance from my grandfather's estate, things could get very ugly and difficult for the both of us."

"So you're saying you're willing to sell your body to secure your brother's lifestyle and yours? Did I get that right?"

My heart turned cold. How often did I see these demure, beautiful women and think them angelic, only to be proven wrong when they turned out to be after one thing? Money was a powerful thing to behold. It turned gentle souls to cruel, ruthless beings. It bred selfishness and greed, but most of all, it propelled more evilness in this world. And yet, without it, there would be no system. It was disappointing to learn Isobel was in the same pond as the rest; however, I couldn't really say I was shocked by her admission. After all, if your father was Constantin Callas, could one really expect more of you?

She opened her cherry glossed lips to protest, but shut them instead and made a small nod, agreeing to everything I threw at her. "I suppose, if you put it that way, then yes, I am selling myself to you."

There was something in her voice that tugged at me, as if her sadness was something I should take notice of... care for. It was odd.

Remaining mum, I strode towards the silver tray, took the carafe, and poured myself some red wine. "Would you like some?" I offered before taking a sip, eyes still watching her, taking in every expression that crossed her beautiful face.

Biting her bottom lip, she shook her head to decline my offer before stepping closer to me, brows furrowing. "What will happen to my father?"

Precisely like the rest. Since the fool didn't want to offer anything else apart from her, it said a lot about him and how much he cared for his children. Some people weren't fit to be parents. But that problem wouldn't ever be mine. I supposed I could be grateful for that.

Gazing into the remaining liquid in my glass, I paused before answering her. "He's going to jail. As expected."

"No. No. Please—help me," she persisted. "Let me be at your disposal. I promise I won't let you down."

_Very well. I shall test her resolve..._ "Come tonight. And no, I won't do anything to you, but I want you to watch how I take a woman. Then you can decide if this is something you want."

She licked her lips before nodding nervously at me.

Striding towards the door, I gave her one last, lingering look. "I'll have someone come get you tonight. Until then... Isobel."

## 3

# Hugo

At exactly midnight, she entered my bedroom, joining Sherry and Chantel just as I had requested of them. Both of my women were beautiful, but there was something about Isobel that stirred a far more formidable reaction within me. Possibly it could be due to the mere fact that didn't come to me as a willing woman. She was desperate to fix her father's crucial problem; consequently she had to sacrifice herself like a lamb to be at my disposal.

Be that as it may, though my principles protested, there was something about the thought of having a reluctant woman forcing herself to open up to a man she barely knew because of an obligation. It was twisted at its best, but the appeal fired my nearing boredom of my usual tastes.

Apart from her beauty, Isobel was different. My cock was certain of it.

I liked aggressive, sensual women, and she was plainly the opposite of that. She had a way about her that gave away the veil of innocence even though she masked it as much as she could. The animal in me wanted to strip it bare—literally and figuratively—and lavish on her unmarred innocence. I felt compelled, driven to be the very man to unleash her into a world full of sensuality, rutting into unparalleled mating.

Staring lustily at her beauty, I saw she had changed her clothes into a demure, black dress while Sherry and Chantel both wore silk robes, ready at a snap of my fingers.

_"Mon chéri,"_ Sherry rasped out as she brazenly strode across the room, bridging the gap before us while the other two stayed back, waiting... watching. My beautiful, blonde, seductive woman gave me a whisper soft kiss before she slowly started to take my clothes off, starting with my silk tie. "We're here to make you feel better."

My cock alarmingly didn't salute to her soft caresses. Sherry was my main lover. She'd been with me for about five years, and in those years never had this ever happened to me. My cock worshipped her, yet tonight, her voice and her soft touch didn't feel enough.

My hunger was thriving for more...

_For Isobel._

However, I had made the promise earlier that I wouldn't do anything to her. I meant to keep the vow even though I'd end up blue and frustrated. A man of my word was what I was known for, but tonight, my passionate nature tempted to overrule my senses.

Needing more of a distraction before my mind wandered off to the inevitable, I snapped my hard gaze towards my other lover. One look was enough command to have her coming to her heels, naked in a blink of an eye as she abandoned her robe without thought.

"Mon Roi." (My King.) She seductively smiled at me then got on her knees and slid the rest of my clothing off my body before I felt Sherry's lips on the back of my neck, breasts pressing against the expanse of my back as her nails dug into the skin of my buttocks.

Across the room, I heard Isobel's sharp intake of breath just as Chantel's mouth met the head of my shaft.

Glancing towards her, she had both of her arms wrapped around her stomach as she bit her bottom lip, looking like she'd been caught stealing something valuable. Our gazes clashed and the turmoil of emotions in her face awakened the beast in me. I wanted to comfort and hurt, provide pain and pleasure, anger and delight. The wave of feelings awash over me, leaving me strained and confused, but most of all, raging with a fire so fierce the woman with enchanting eyes could alone stoke it brighter.

Eyes locked together, I was held mesmerized as I felt both Chantel and Sherry sucking my cock, softly, gently— _hungrily._

Each second that ticked by without her breaking contact, the harder I got. Though the ladies' ministrations were excellent, it was the woman across from me—the air of reluctance she portrayed and the avid curiosity—that got me going. Moreover, when I let out a deep, pleasing groan and she dared break contact, the savage beast in me emerged, needing to come out and play.

"Ladies, I need to speak with Isobel," I spoke softly yet succinctly. Without glancing at my lovers, I knew my cutting command confused them, yet I didn't have the luxury of time to explain anything. Besides, I never explained anything to anyone. These were part of the rules in being my kept woman. I showered them with all the beautiful things life had to offer, and in turn, they gave me gratitude.

From my peripheral vision, both women quietly gathered their robes and slipped out of the room until it was just the two of us left. She still looked aghast and frazzled. I remained boldly naked—and harder than I had ever been in my thirty-four years of manhood.

Giving her enough time to breathe and get used to the idea we were alone before deciding to close the gap between us, I languidly strode towards her while her eyes fought the need to glance towards my emboldened member, charging with purpose. Once I reached her, my hunger tripled.

"Good evening, Isobel," I greeted as calmly as I could, mismatching the storm raging within.

Her brow furrowed, nervous and unsure of herself. "Hello, Mr. Xavier," she meekly said, meeting my dark depths.

"Hugo," I corrected her. "Let me hear you say my name."

She nervously licked her lips before whispering my name. "Hugo." The sound made me groan with pleasure as I felt a small bead seep out of the head of my shaft.

Her eyes dropped towards my raging manhood as I noted the emotions that flittered across her beautifully delicate face.

"Frightened of what it could do to you?" My control was slipping as I tried to portray the unaffected man before her, yet my member gave me away, seeming beyond enraged. Wanting to progress further, I went on with one purpose. "Touch it. It's been waiting to make your acquaintance."

Shimmering eyes focused on me, baffled and questioning. "I thought you said you weren't planning on doing anything with me tonight."

Her vulnerability made me feel amazingly powerful. "And I will keep to my word, but I never said anything about _you_ not doing anything to me, ma chéri."

"Oh— _well..._ uh... what did... _you want?_ " she stuttered her words out before licking her lips and clashing those tantalizing orbs at me.

_What did I want? Whatever she was reluctant to give,_ my mind automatically said as I looked down at her, wondering how her hand would feel against my skin. "Touch me, Isobel."

Her fingers shook as she bit down on her lip before giving me a tortured face, thus making me ache further for her touch. I let out a harsh breath when she made contact. She brushed her finger on the tip as she stared at my cock with fascination twinkling in her eyes. This woman hadn't done much, however her mere here-and-there touches almost made me combust inside. Her vulnerability, reluctance, and curiosity made a heady, potent concoction for me, and I simply couldn't get enough. I wanted more...

"Make me come in your hands, ma belle."

She swallowed whatever saliva she had before she gripped my length firmer, harder as she began her ministrations.

"Grip the base and focus on the head."

She did as I asked her before I gradually started to thrust my hips into her palms, shutting my lids close as I focused all of my senses on one part of my anatomy, basking on her sensual hands and fingers. Lust veiled my sight as I opened them to watch her work me well, and by God, what a sight she was.

"Look at me. Give me those beautiful eyes, ma belle. I want to stare at them while you stroke my cock. I want to see your soul while you make me come in your hands."

The sexy, shy kitten did as I requested, stroking the deep, sensual furnace within my body before it escalated to its peak and erupted beautifully, magnificently in her hands.

## 4

# Hugo

After watching her perform on me, following as I asked her what to do, sure was enough for me to decide what to do next. Though I admit, her looks alone already gave her a ninety-nine percent guarantee of approval.

Half an hour later, I called on Benoît for the contracts before I strode into the adjoining bathroom to clean up. She did the same, blushing as she requested if she could clean up as well before Benoît got there.

Casually nodding before I watched her sprint towards the bathroom, I strode towards the end of the coffee table in the corner room to have a shot of my favored "M" whiskey. This was a limited production, and its rarity made it all the more compelling to acquire. Every drop was exceptional, just like the woman who had temporarily fled into the bathroom.

The soft knock made me glance towards the door. "Oui?"

"Here's what you requested, Monsieur." Benoît strode into the room before setting down the folder atop the marbled antique table. He made a quick glance towards the bathroom before giving me a curt nod.

"Merci beaucoup, Benoît," I murmured as I wondered what he thought about the deal I had with Constantin Callas. It wasn't anyone's business, but Benoît had been with me for over a decade, and I didn't just see him as someone I employed. Through the years, a bond had formed, and I considered him a friend.

Alas, there was another problem I needed him to handle. "In regards to Dana, will you please do the necessary steps and send me a video during the interrogation. I wish to no longer see her."

He gave me a knowing look before clearing his throat. "As you wish. I'll take care of it in the morning."

"C'est parfait." (Sounds perfect.)

"Bonsoir, Monsieur Xavier."

I nodded, bidding him the same.

The soft creak of the opening bathroom door made me aware she was coming out, but I didn't glance up to watch her move and sway her hips as she walked. Instead, I threw my head back and emptied the contents of the glass in my hand before helping myself to another dose of the amber contents that didn't seem to lessen the burn doing a maelstrom in my groin. I needed a moment to gather my thoughts without looking at her and devouring her on the spot.

Her touch had merely whet my appetite and I wanted more—so much more. The second she signed the contract, the better.

Still not looking at her, I addressed the envelope that sat on the table. "The contract is ready. Go over the details, and if you have other demands, let me know so we can negotiate before a new one can be drawn up first thing tomorrow."

"Okay," she murmured softly before I heard her take a seat and go through the sheets of papers enclosed.

All this time, I had been taking one shot after the other, breathing in calmness, bidding my time so I wouldn't have such an evident hard-on before I decided to face her.

After a moment or two of thinking I had cooled off a bit, I spun around and my eyes immediately darted towards the view of her back. I noted how delicate her neck was then paused a moment, frowning. _Merde!_ Since when did I care or notice a woman's neck, delicate or not? Hissing at myself, I gave her a moment or two as she scanned the contract.

Denying myself from going through the pleasures I was accustomed to had been a mistake because it had boggled my mind. I was noticing things that usually didn't heighten my libido. First thing tomorrow, I would need Chantel to come to me before I showered to do some laborious working out.

Problem solved, I was in a much better mood.

"Have you skimmed through it?" I casually asked as I took the sofa opposing her, needing to see her face and what she thought of it. I had a knack for reading people's minds before they voiced their opinions. Isobel wasn't any different.

"Yes." Her eyes remained on the pages, flickering through the words, absorbing the details.

"Do you find it agreeable?

She shook her head, looking frustrated. "I will have to take a semester off school since it says six months here." She released a breath. "Summer break is only three months."

Merde. How old was she? How come I forgot to ask her this one vital question? She couldn't be eighteen, could she? _Imbécile!_ (Moron.) How did this slip my mind? _Because your cock twitched and it was all you could think about then,_ my mind immediately supplied the answer. So much for fair thinking...

Looking at her in the eye, I prayed she wasn't that young. "How old are you, Isobel?"

"I'm twenty-three. It's my final year before I graduate..."

Thank goodness she wasn't as young as I'd feared.

"Where do you study?"

"In England, but my home is Athens. I was here to visit my father for a week because my mother asked it of me."

So Callas was here vacationing his summer in Monaco to gamble away while his family was back home in Athens? _What a remarkable man,_ I thought sourly. My own father could be cruel in his own right, but he never once abandoned me for his own pleasures, even after my mother died a few years after giving birth to me. Eli Xavier was tough, but even with his hard exterior I never once questioned his love or intentions.

Flickering my gaze back to the beguiling woman, I knew I wouldn't want any more than the six months offered. Besides, the old man Callas needed to be taught a lesson. I'd have to make sure he was banned in all the casinos in Monaco and France. If he wanted to gamble, he'd have to go elsewhere.

"The agreement is for six months, ma belle. That's up to you if you want to sign it or not."

She gave me a seething look before breaking away. "You _know_ I don't have a choice."

I did, and I had to capitalize on it because there was something about her I wanted to taste. She looked too delectable—supple and ripe—and the thought of roughening her up a little with disheveled hair, bruised lips from kisses, and raw, throbbing lips from my passions... What decent man with standards wouldn't be tempted to make an exception?

This was the main problem with us. Place sex, beauty, and innocence in an equation, and men would have a hard time looking away; would have a tough time fighting their own animal urges to dominate and mark the very woman who had their engines revved up like no other.

I was the very same man. Even though I had always vowed not to play in this sort of field, a lot of men in my world took part in it. It had always amused me, but it had never come to a point where I had wanted to actually see and sample it myself. Beauty like hers didn't come often, however.

_Alors_. I was here and I fully intended to enjoy it as much as I could.

"Hugo?" Her soft voice with my name on her lips almost made me groan in frustration.

"Oui, ma belle?"

"You said I could negotiate terms... I have a few of my own..."

This certainly got my full, undivided attention as I wondered what she'd negotiate with me. "Go on?"

She took a deep breath and exhaled as loudly as she'd inhaled, as if she was preparing to say something she knew would displease me. "My stipulations are... well... uh... I don't want vaginal sex, even if there's protection. It's non-negotiable."

I waited a beat or two, hoping she meant it as a joke. But when her face remained the same, I instantly blew up. " _Mon dieu!_ What's the point of all of this then? I want you in my bed, and I won't have it any other way!" What man would agree to such an atrocious deal?

My outburst didn't seem to bother her as she slowly stood up to face my enraged state. "I will be in your bed—be your third woman—never question that. And we'll be having sex, but not there..."

I froze, eyeing her as if she had grown horns on her head. "Come again? I think I misheard you."

"You didn't. You heard me fine."

Taking a few steps to meet her, I gave enough distance because I didn't trust myself to be this close to her and not dump her in bed, open her legs, and plow into her supple body. "You don't want vaginal, but _anal_ you're okay with?" What madness was this? Besides, what kind of woman would agree to such an arrangement? "May I ask why?"

She didn't blink before giving me an answer. "Everything is personal... except for that."

Isobel was young, maybe her understanding in what was personal and what wasn't had been muddled by her ex-lovers?

"Ma belle, you might confuse the two, but trust me when I tell you that anal is personal; probably more personal than anything. Virginity is a rarity these day, but anal virginity isn't something a woman casually gives to any man they come across—it's for the man they love or trust. I am neither of those in your life."

"Not to me. I find the other way much more sacred, and I only share that with someone I love. I hope this doesn't offend you, Hugo, but I'm trying very hard here to meet your needs as well as my own."

She was honest; I'd give her that. This certainly placed a strain on my plans. "Very well. If you insist." I was getting half of what I'd hoped; however it wasn't all lost. "You said you wanted a few. What are the others?"

"I want my own bedroom."

Sleeping with my lovers wasn't a thing I was accustomed to. She'd know soon enough. "It's already waiting for you, ma belle. What else?"

"If there's an emergency that would need me to go home, I'd like it if you wouldn't hinder that right for me."

Family was important. It was one thing my father had instilled in me. I respected that. "Without question, family comes first." I nodded in agreement. "Anything else?"

"That was all I needed, Hugo."

"Very well. I will have these alterations drawn up tomorrow. It should be ready at nine thirty in the morning and should be in time for breakfast. I'll see you then, Isobel."

Blushing, she gave me a small, encouraging smile. "Thank you for giving me a chance," she murmured before leaving me to watch after her exit of my bedroom.

If I was confused before, I was more confused after that odd sentiment. She said thank you—she was giving me her body, yet _she said thank you!_

Merde.

## 5

# Isobel

"Can you make a fresh espresso, s'il vous plait," Hugo directed without flicking his eyes towards me as they roamed the computer screens before him, studying the red and green graphs.

I paused, eyes stuck staring at his striking side profile before making a curt nod to myself. "Of course, Mister Xavier."

"Hugo, Isobel." Dark pools of chocolate brown eyes zeroed in on me, making me breathy and out of sorts.

"Hugo," I breathed his name, feeling flushed. "All right, Hugo. I'll go make you your espresso." Closing my eyes briefly to push my embarrassment aside, I slowly made my way out of his plush office and into the kitchen right outside the area for his secretary and two of his personal assistants, who were working in a hushed, serene manner.

It's been a week since that night I signed my contract, and for the past seven days, this was something I hadn't expected to be doing—fetching everything he wanted and needed.

I unassumingly became his assistant— _his third one_. The man had a great team that offered more help than any man should need, and still, he bossed me around like a pet or an irrelevant person.

It wasn't anger I felt but more of a feeling between unappreciated and devalued. It was as though I wasn't good enough to be with him like how Sherry or Chantel were. A blessing was how I saw it because it truly was. I had thought the second I signed he'd become this brute of a man who wouldn't care about what the terms and conditions I stipulated were. Then, true to his word, he had surprisingly stuck to them, and I had been almost sure he would break it. However, seven days later, the man had yet to do anything sexual with me.

After that night, nothing had happened. I wasn't complaining—not really—but I was more apprehensive because there had to be a meaning behind all of this, shouldn't there? A man couldn't want one woman then change his mind the second she said she wouldn't be willing to have vaginal sex with him. Some would even argue that men would see this as a challenge. Still, Hugo Xavier had not shown any interest in me at all except for giving me orders to get him this and that. For three hundred thousand euros, this job I was doing was puny, but who was I to complain? This was what I had hoped for when I signed, although I couldn't help feeling the bite of his rejection.

My imagination had run amuck, and I had pictured all sorts of ugly scenarios in my head the moment I signed those six months of my life away, yet he had become the polar opposite of that hungered, over-eager man. What had happened? Every night I would try to remember, but nothing caught my attention to satisfy my question.

He'd been civilized and courteous, asking me every day if everything was okay for me, and I couldn't be more baffled at his personality. Apart from his appallingly beautiful good looks that always left me dumbfounded, I had learned he was well-received and well-loved by the people he employed, in the villa and his casinos.

Being Greek, I knew a lot about male pride and ego, which Hugo Xavier had in spades; however, it was a first for me to see a man that prided himself and yet never forgot to greet his employees when it was their birthday, or when it was their wedding anniversary. He even went as far as to give them free hotel stays and other perks they loved getting by being employed by him. Granted, my father's business wasn't as grand or lavish as this one, however he never treated his people this way. Cracking a smile towards your workers would be a sin in my father's eyes.

It was a refreshing change, and after learning bits and pieces of him for the past week, I felt almost secure he wouldn't harm me—not at all the way I had pictured it in my head.

Taking a fresh cup from the cupboard, I absentmindedly took a call when my phone rang in my hand. "Hello?"

"Isobel..."

I stilled, shutting my eyes as I cherished the sound of my name. "Damen."

He groaned in vain. "Please tell me you've changed your mind. You can't seriously break- up with me through a voicemail, Izz."

Izz. That was his nickname for me. Damen was my first boyfriend, my first love. My first everything. Breaking up with him a week before had not been easy, but I had to do what I must to save my family.

In my heart, if what Hugo had said was true, then six months of waiting for me wouldn't be a problem. Could it? Hopefully, by then, I could have all of this behind me. Damen was the reason I had requested the clause in the contract. Because I knew, deep down, what I was doing was wrong, yet values wouldn't save my family. Subsequently, I had needed a couple alterations to avoid betraying the man I loved in all aspects. It was a small compromise, I knew, but it was all I could do at the moment.

My heart was Damen's, and it would always stay that way, even if Hugo Xavier made me feel things—things that were forbidden. One penetrating look of his eyes never failed to draw something out of my body. It was raw. Carnal. Magnetizing.

The man exuded power and beauty with each breath he took, women sighed at the sight of him. Moreover, even though I found his handsomeness disarming most of the time, it would be a mistake if I got carried away and submitted to the animalistic, passionate man hiding behind those tantalizing eyes.

He was the kind of man who needed full submission from his woman, most especially in the bedroom. It was something I had never feared because I wasn't like Sherry or Chantel, who both had fallen into the Xavier spell. No. I was a woman in love with another man. A man whom I had vowed to spend the rest of my life with at the tender age of sixteen—before we had even shared our first kiss.

Hugo Xavier was just a man—nothing extraordinary. Six months with him wouldn't jeopardize me emotionally. I was certain of it.

## 6

# Hugo

I watched as Isobel carefully placed the espresso cup and saucer next to me, and how gracefully she slightly bent her body while protruding her delectable bottom as her provocative scent blanketed my space. I tensed as her scent filled me from my nostrils all the way down to my chest, sitting low in my stomach before settling in my groin. Cocking my head to the side, I silently cursed in vain, hating the fact she had this effect on me. She was just so... feminine and so achingly gorgeous that it was hard not to be affected by her. One look was all it took. It stoked the temptation I had pushed aside for the past week.

Normally, it was up to _me_ if I wanted to be affected by their displays of subtle flirtations and such, but it was different with her. _Why?_ I wondered, frustrated at the contracts we had signed a week before. I simply couldn't fathom her request, and had thought it a joke, that she'd change her mind the next morning. However, the joke had been on me.

I toyed with the idea of making her change her mind through seduction. I wanted her—badly. She would eventually beg me to take her. After all, that was the only way I would take her, and that was if she'd let me, giving me her full consent because, if I crossed that line, the contract would no longer be valid, and I would be the one paying her the same amount her father owed me.

Seducing her into submission was my way of showing her I would be willing to honor her wishes and, at the same time, get what I wanted in the end. I loved a good challenge, and Isobel offered that in spades. It was a wager I had with my ego and pride that I couldn't turn down.

Seeing as she stood to the side, awaiting orders, I focused on the coffee before me, picking up the steaming cup as I took the dark espresso shot in one go. The scalding hot contents burned my tongue all the way down to my throat, the bite making me grit my teeth as I lavished on the instant effect it had on my body.

My sex drive was far from abysmal. Even after I had taken one of my lovers, with one look at Isobel, I would immediately get hard again. It had been difficult to be around her in the villa, which was why I had tried to keep it platonic for a whole week, because I wasn't sure I could handle being alone with her. Most especially after that horrid clause in the contract. My hunger hadn't dissipated. In fact, I believed the damn clause had only made her even more appetizing in my eyes.

After a week of avoiding her, I thought it would be a perfect opportunity to take her out tonight to an event I had committed to attending. It would also suit the other purpose of wanting to get to know her better, and being as it was a public place, there would be a slim chance I would try to devour her on the spot.

Clearing my throat, I checked the time before giving her a quick, swiping glance then focused back on my computer screen. "I have a gala to attend tonight, and I'm taking you with me."

Her brow rose, giving me that sexy look while her lips glowered at me. "Oh, Sherry is not available?"

There was a subtle hint of bite in her words. It made me feel the need to reinstate who was the boss here.

"I take whomever I choose, Isobel. And tonight, I choose _you_. Do you have a problem with that?"

She paused, staring at me, before blinking those tantalizing, long, sooty lashes at me. "No, Hugo, I don't have a problem with that." Pressing her lips together, she straightened her stance. "What time do you need me ready by?"

"I need you by six. You can leave to get ready whenever you like—spa, dress shopping, and whatever else you need. There's a driver waiting for your disposal."

"In that case, I better get going to get myself primed and pretty for yours truly." Her brow rose, challenging me.

She was already primed and pretty; I doubted she could get any prettier than this. "You go ahead and do just that, ma belle. I'll see you at six."

"See you then," she murmured as she quietly strode towards the doors, my eyes following her stride, watching her hips sway from one side to the other.

Hard and frustrated, I took my phone to call Chantel, asking her to come by and give me a quick visit. It had been like this for the past seven days—me always ending up calling Sherry or Chantel mid-day to cater to my needs even at the office. Furthermore, when those times happened, Isobel wouldn't look me in the eye before she exited the room to leave me to do my business. Abstinence wasn't in my DNA. Besides, I was a hot-blooded French man who always got what he wanted. Sex was one aspect in my life I could fully enjoy without restrictions, and I tried to supply my life with it as much as possible.

Twenty-five minutes later, there was a knock on the door before Chantel ushered herself in, wearing a seductive smile. "Mon Roi." ( _My King_.)

"Chantel." I gave her a knowing look when she halted before my desk. I leaned back in my chair and watched her carefully take her garments off, one at a time. I liked my women to seductively unwrap themselves like a present before me, getting me excited as I looked at what was going to be mine.

When she was left with her underwear on, I stopped her, asking her to leave it on before she sensually strode towards me. The moment she reached me, she immediately got on her knees, unzipped my pants and took me in her mouth. She did it nice and slow, making me feel her enticing licks as my cock started to throb. I shut my lids and imagined Isobel taking me in her mouth. Mon Dieu! I became harder than I was, grunting as I took her head with my right hand and pushed her mouth deeper, taking what she could until I felt her throat close around me. After I felt her gag, I wrenched her off my shaft, pulled her to her feet and licked the side of her ear.

"Bend over my desk, spread your legs wide and open. I want to see both holes as you stretch your body."

She did as I asked, taking her panties off languorously slow first, and in reward, I gave her a hard spank on her bottom, making her moan in earnest.

"Hugo," she gasped my name as I palmed her soaking wet cunt. "Baise-moi." (Fuck me.)

I smirked, knowing quite well how loud she'd be the moment I slipped my cock into her pussy.

"As you wish, mon amant."

## 7

# Isobel

Casually giving the silent man sitting next to me a glance, I tried to breach the vast stretch of silence. "Where are we headed to?" After he'd arrived in the villa to get me, all dressed up and showered, from his office, he merely gave me a quick inspection with a stale greeting of "Good evening, Isobel" before opening the door for me to get inside his swanky, two-door sports car. Apart from that, Hugo hadn't supplied me with any words.

He stretched his neck from side to side then cleared his throat. "To a wine auction that will benefit homeless children."

_Sigh._ He was making this difficult. He wasn't very forthcoming at all, and since this was our first official outing together, I had thought he'd be more accommodating, but he was proving to be standoffish. "Sounds exciting. Are you setting your sights on anything in particular?"

Eyes stuck to the road, he used his left hand to tug his tie a little before responding to me. "For a while now... yes," he murmured. "And I intend to acquire it at all costs."

There was something about the way he said it that made me glance at his darkly handsome profile. I felt my stomach drop as I took in his masculine perfection. Greek men were passionate; however, French men were something else. Their passions seemed to go with everything they did—like limited edition spirits.

"Must be a fine wine then. I'm sure it's pricey."

"Anything _fine_ is always expensive. Nothing in life is free."

The bite in his tone made me feel at odds; therefore, I remained silent for I had no smart retort. After all, if one looked at it in black and white, my father had offered me like a barter to pay of his debts in return for my willing servitude.

He was right. Nothing in life was free...

* * *

"And who is this _belle enchanteresse_ , Xavier?" The famous racer Jacques Bertrand inquired the moment Hugo and I joined their close circle of friends.

Hugo touched the back of my hips, letting his hand stay there as he introduced me. "This is Isobel. She's spending the summer with me." He then paused as he stared ahead before gazing back to his friends, frowning. "Give me a moment to speak to someone." He made a quick nod towards me before whispering, "I'll be right back."

I watched after him as strode towards the opposite side of the hall, feeling a little odd yet again because his parting seemed awkward. Hugo and I didn't know each other, so maybe that was the reason behind his weird behavior.

Someone cleared their throat, picking up my attention as I looked up and found Jacques Bertrand's amused face. "Well, it's quite lovely to meet you, Isobel."

Smiling shyly, I made the same sentiment. "Same here, Monsieur Bertrand."

"Call me Jacques." He offered his hand, and when I shook it, he hung on to mine before giving me a questioning look. "I thought you were Italian at first sight, but your accent denies it..."

I was unbelievably out of my league here. These men were used to women that could flirt back with them with ease, but I was having a hard time not being completely star-struck at the handsome and well-known racer and womanizer extraordinaire.

"Greek," I offered to solve his problem, feeling out of my comfort zone as I watched the women saunter about, looking ever so glamorous while I felt like an interloper playing pretend.

"Simply beautiful," he murmured before placing his lips on the back of my hand, making me gasp from shock and excitement.

"Behave, Jacques. She's already taken," the woman standing next to him butted in with a playful smile. "I'm Stella von Berg."

I was about to say "Nice to meet you" when the man next to her interrupted me. " _Was_ von Berg. _Now_ Kensington, my lovely wife."

She exaggeratedly rolled her eyes before tapping his lapel. "And this is Callum, my husband."

Married couple. How sweet and endearing.

"It's great to meet you both," I said pleasantly at the couple before my eyes found the last member of their circle; another tall, dark, and handsome man. Swallowing my shyness, I greeted him, "Hello."

"Julien Geroux. Some might say I'm Hugo's closest friend to date." There was wickedness to his smile as he audaciously shifted and took Hugo's spot before excusing us from his friends, who were already starting to talk about Jacques's upcoming race. "Let's get you something to drink. Champagne?"

"Yes, please."

He plucked up two flutes from the passing waiter before securing us a spot in a corner. I was still feeling out of depth, yet my curiosity had been piqued the second Julien wanted some privacy to speak to me.

Casually offering me the flute, he gave me a warm smile as I took it with ease before those intelligent eyes sharpened on me. "You speak French?"

"A little... only the basics," I murmured before taking a cautious sip, eyes unwavering at the newly introduced man.

"Très bien."

He seemed forward yet accommodating enough. I supposed it wouldn't be too bad if I let my guard down a little. He didn't seem the type to have their claws out just because I was dating his friend.

"So, Julien... closest friend to Hugo; that must be something." My brow arched as I waited for him to supply me with some information.

Apart from what I had seen and knew of Hugo, there wasn't much about him on the internet other than how his family started and how their wealth accumulated from smart investments. There was nothing to clue me in about his personal life, much other than photographs. I needed the puny details—something to tell me what made the man tick. After all, I was to be in his "care" for the next six months. Wanting to know more about the man who would see to my welfare didn't seem unreasonable.

Julien shrugged my question off, looking noncommittal. "We have our moments like the rest. We've grown up together since toddlers." Another casual French shrug before he appointed me another question. "How do you find him and everything else?"

Hugo surprisingly seemed harmless. Well, if I took out that first time we met and how he daringly came in my hands and how powerful I felt then. He'd been distant since, leaving me to my own devices.

"It's okay..." Blushing as I murmured my answer, feeling quite bothered each time I recalled that incident in my mind. Every time, it never failed to make me feel... _things._

"And the _ girls_?"

Sherry and Chantel were distant but seemed friendly enough. I could only be thankful the three of us, though we lived in the same wing, all led separate lives. They had their own sets of friends and lived as if they were boarding in the villa, and not mistresses of Hugo Xavier. It was surprisingly harmonious given the odd circumstances.

"They are reserved but pleasant." Taking another sip, I pondered my next question, hoping I wasn't probing on a subject that was off-limits. "May I ask why he prefers triple?"

Julien beamed at me, giving me a glimpse of his own dark, sexy beauty. He and Hugo shared that whole laissez-faire attitude, yet it was done with subtle elegance, great confidence, and an underlying power even right up to the way they held their heads high. They had some male ego competition going on, from what I was gathering. I wasn't sure if it was by birthright or simply by being raised together, but I must admit, it was mesmeric to be around their casual air of certainty.

"How do I explain this delicately...?" Clearing his throat, he took a sip of his drink before focusing on our conversation. "Years ago, this woman he was in a relationship with fell in love with him even though he told her that nothing was going to come out of their union."

There was always that poor woman who fell for the bad boy. Thank goodness that wouldn't be the case with me.

"Let's just say she made a big deal out of it and caused a lot of complications in his life." When he broke his lips for a smile this time, it appeared sad. "From then on, he thinks having only one is dangerous to the woman's mental health."

"A security blanket. One was surely complicated, having two would merely spark competition, but three? Three is perfect harmony." I figured it out for myself. My thoughts travelled into the villa, picturing a woman smitten and doomed with her love for a man who didn't accept it. How tragic it must've been for her.

"Sure, you can call it that."

Well, whatever Hugo was harboring, he could rest assured I wouldn't ever be in that same fate because, even though he was the most beautiful creature I had ever been graced to meet, my heart remained forever with Damen, who was patiently waiting for me to finish this "job" I had vaguely explained to him, needing space and an excuse for breaking his heart. My father was a selfish brute of a bastard. If it weren't for my brother and mother, I wouldn't be standing here tonight.

Breathing out my frustration, I carried on with the conversation. "What about you? Do you have a similar outlook with women?"

Julien laughed wholeheartedly. "You're forward, aren't you, viande fraîche?" I gave him a puzzled look before he produced the answer. "Fresh meat. _Viande fraîche_ is what I shall call you from now on."

Oh, please. Maybe to his standards I was. I was far from being one, but I didn't dare argue with him.

"More champagne?"

"I'm afraid your waiting services are no longer needed, Julien." Hugo's arctic voice interrupted us, making us both turn while my breath caught as our eyes clashed. I supposed whoever he had spoken to earlier on, it hadn't gone as planned.

Hugo harshly said something in rapid French, making me bite my lip as I stared at the both of them, uncertain if I should hide. He sounded like he was infuriated, but Julien's easy smile contradicted my assumptions.

"Isobel, it was marvelous to speak to you this evening. I will see you again." He made a gallant bow before he brazenly winked at Hugo and then left us in quite a heavy shroud of thick silence.

Damn.

## 8

# Isobel

"Hugo." Frowning at him, I failed to understand what was going through his mind. This man was far too complex for my naïve outlook on men. Apart from my father, I had no close experience with men like Hugo and Julien—men with too much power. At a snap of their fingers, the world fell at their feet. They exuded it—even that Callum Kensington man earlier on had shown similar assured confidence.

Money. Obscene amounts of it could lead a man into believing they could walk on air, or on any ground for that matter.

"We're leaving," he gritted out before he gave me a slashing look.

Wait. He seemed almost accusing. What was that look for anyway? I was merely speaking to his friend, not having a quick romp in the storage room.

"Leaving? _Now?_ The event hasn't even started."

"We _are_ leaving." He had that expression on him, as if he was speaking to a child, ready to reprimand when the need arose. "Unless, of course, you want to stay for a cozier tête-à-tête with Julien, then you're more than welcome to stay."

Aghast, I stared at him agog _._ " _What_?"

For the first time, he came close to me, breath hot against my ear while I slightly trembled against his body.

"You heard me well," he warned. "So choose."

Trembling to be _this_ close to him, I was confused at my body's reaction towards the man. Whenever he was near, I somehow did that. I had no clue why, either.

"I came here with you. I'm leaving with you."

Without a word, he ushered us out of there, bypassing his friends that seemed too confused when Hugo didn't acknowledge them as they said something about where we were heading.

Once we reached the outside and the valet had handed him his keys, we travelled back the same road we had taken about an hour ago. The only difference was that the air about him was more untouchable compared to the quiet indifference he'd portrayed.

Gazing at his profile, I sadly noted how his rogue sexiness only added to his appeal when angry. He drove the car as if he was racing towards Hell, uncaring that he bypassed one hundred on the speedometer.

I wasn't sure what was bothering him; however, there clearly was something on his mind. Was it the meeting earlier on, or could it be because he found me cozy with Julien? The first choice was more viable since the second meant he would be jealous, which was ridiculous since we hadn't known each other long enough and hadn't been speaking at all when the purpose didn't serve it. Therefore, if Julien was to be believed that they were particularly close, then his anger was most likely angled towards his friend.

" _She caused a lot of complications in his life..._ " Julien's words flittered through my mind, wandering towards the woman in question. I wondered how he had handled his ex-lover.

Approximately twenty minutes later, I was taken aback when he drove us into the marina, parking right at the dock's entrance before my eyes caught the sight of the floating palace, alit with sleek elegance.

"Is this another party?" He'd never said anything apart from the auction we had missed.

"No," he curtly replied as he slid out of his Trojan of a car before opening my door and offering his hand to help me out. "We're having dinner."

"Oh." I was quite dumbfounded since we had left in haste while he brooded in silence, and then, only twenty minutes later, he was on to dinner. Color me confused.

We went aboard the mega yacht and were greeted by a butler before he ushered us towards the dining area that was purposely and elaborately done on deck, near the huge Jacuzzi set at the very end of the bow. Apparently, a hot tub on the opposite side wouldn't suffice.

Apart from the intimidating air of opulence that surrounded us, I was quite enthralled to dine alone with him. He didn't make all these detailed, extravagant efforts, but it was _he_ who'd requested it, so I felt quite honored to be the woman sitting opposite him. I was sure these situations occurred to him on a daily basis, but to me, it meant something. With Damen's limited funds due to the sour turn of the Greek economy and my father's exorbitant lifestyle, though our families were known to be well-off, we actually lived a life on a budget.

"It's beautiful tonight." My eyes took in the stars above as I breathed in the crisp air and the magical aura that surrounded us. The moon hung high, brightly lit as it cast its brilliance on the Mediterranean, basking it with his pulling beauty, painting a picturesque magnificence I had barely appreciated until tonight.

Watching appreciatively as the server carefully poured me a glass of red wine, Hugo didn't address me until his steward was out of earshot. "You mentioned a brother. What about your mother? Is she around?"

This was a start to a grueling interrogation about my life. I supposed it was bound to happen given the circumstances.

Pressing my lips together, I gazed into the darkness of his eyes. "My mother is in Athens. She's originally from Cornwall, but when she met my dad, she moved to Greece to be his wife."

"Must've been quite the culture shock for her."

The server was back with our first course of cream of watercress soup with a dollop of heavy cream and a quarter size dollop of caviar sitting atop it.

I didn't respond to him until the server left and we'd both started to eat leisurely—an alien word I wouldn't have used to describe Hugo, but tonight, it was fitting.

Remembering my mother's gentle, loving face, I somberly pictured her with a pained heart as I rehashed what had happened to my once vibrant, full of life, beautiful mother.

"She said the culture shock came in the beginning. She used to proudly say that her love for my father made her overcome her fears..." How sad to have fallen in love with a toxic man like my father.

"Does she know of his habit?"

"She does, but my father does as he pleases." My mother's opinion never swayed him to think twice before delving into action. My father was a spoilt, only child. _The golden son_. Oh, but what a joke he had become.

"My mother had a miscarriage, and after that, she hasn't spoken much. She still has the ability to speak, but only chooses to do so when it's needed. Most of the time, she wallows in her agony of losing the baby, and my father does what he does best." Breaking my mother's heart over and over again. Yet there she was, timidly waiting for the man she'd married to come back to her in order to welcome him with open arms.

"What a great parenting example," he huffed with a biting tone, upfront in his disapproval. "Have you spoken to your father since?"

"No." He never made the effort. I didn't expect him to.

He nodded, deep in thought. "Très bien."

Quietly placing my spoon down, I glanced towards him, hoping we could clear a misunderstanding that had left me boggled. "About earlier... I'm not sure if I should apologize for what happened or not because I'm quite sure I'm not the cause of your awful mood." I paused, brows furrowing. "I feel compelled to press this subject with you since we're still getting used to each other, and I don't want this issue to cause a rift between us."

He paused, setting his utensil down as he stared at me before he languidly rested his back against the white leather, wingback chair. "You're quite sure you weren't the reason?"

"Yes." Quite so.

Hugo remained in silent consideration as he kept staring at me, as if trying to figure me out. "And may I ask why, ma belle?"

Well, this question was easy. Might as well tell him the truth. I hoped he'd appreciate my honest opinion. "Because you had no grounds to be acting like Tarzan."

The end of his top lip lifted. "I acted like _Tarzan?_"

Did he have any idea who the character was? I'd take my chances.

"Well, I wasn't sure what was said between you and Julien because you both exchanged in French..." I shrugged before making my point. "You're a man with three women living with you, ready at your disposal, jealousy couldn't be the reason."

"You're very rational for your age," he observed, eyes still penetrating me.

"I have to be." I met his gaze, feeling this tug of war between us. As if there was a magnetic pull telling me to run away, yet I couldn't fathom looking away and breaking contact. His dark eyes sought, gauging me as it effectively lulled me into its trap. Dark, angelic beauty, or dark, devilish appeal? I hadn't decided which suited him yet. However, one couldn't deny it any longer. That _this_ —whatever this was—it affected me greatly.

Furthermore, as exhilarating as it was to get his undivided attention, my mother was a prime example of being charmed by a snake. I'd be damned if I'd walk in her shoes, too.

Once was enough in our family.

## 9

# Isobel

"We're sleeping here tonight," Hugo announced the moment all plates had been cleared away by the staff and we were both lounging with our drinks in hand, getting my full attention.

"But your hotel is close to here?" And the villa merely a little over half an hour ride away. Sleeping here tonight meant only one thing. Did he purposely wait a full seven days to get what he'd bargained for?

"It is." He waited a beat or two, making me fully aware of him, before he crushed any hopes I had to go back to dry land. "But tonight, we are sleeping here."

"As you wish," I conceded, hoping I hadn't sounded too tense. Being out here in the night, mooring off the coast, felt like I was at his mercy; as if I had nowhere to hide and couldn't run away from him. Maybe that had been his intention after all—to wickedly disguise this _dinner_ with an elaborate setting, simply distracting me from the main purpose he had in mind all along. _My body._

"Let's unwind and relax before we turn in for the night. You look too tense, ma belle." He cocked his head towards the lounge area, a large u-shaped leather cushion with black and white pillows in different designs and patterns.

Taking his lead, I followed him towards the area before we sat side by side, facing the moon. The fresh breeze, the illicit whispers of the night air, and Hugo's potent, unrivaled hunger were heady.

Though he may come off as if he had all the time in the world, the way his eyes hovered around my cleavage and how it lingered on my skin as if he couldn't wait to brand me—searing me with his possession—gave away the façade he'd so carefully attempted to play down. Deep down, I was grateful he wasn't going all about aggressive on me and was taking his time dancing to my tune. However, was I ready for this? No, of course I wasn't. But this was my duty to my family—for my mother and brother. And though I despised my situation, I couldn't very well hate the man who'd agreed to my father's bartering tactics. Hugo was, after all, a businessman—with a healthy dose of sexual needs and conquests.

"More wine, chérie?"

I needed it more than ever. "Yes, I'd love some more, please."

We enjoyed a silent moment as he poured my refill, but I was knotted in anticipation. Mind you, I felt like maybe I should rethink that clause I had adamantly demanded about no vaginal intercourse. Truly, the thought of anything going in my behind was mystifying. At that time, I had truly felt compelled to save something of myself in this twisted madness—giving myself away yet not everything of me. I was saving that part of myself because I believed making love was meant for two people in love, and Hugo and I were in no way involved in that sense. Mustering up the courage to go through the process was quite a bit more difficult than I had imagined.

"It's tonight, isn't it?"

A breath...

_A pause..._

Then, gasping for another heave as we eyed each other, him with that _look—_ the look that told me my suspicions were not far off base. Nervously, I gulped half of my wine down before I froze whilst sipping my drink the moment his warmth brushed my skin. The back of his forefinger caressed the side of my arm, teasing. Provoking... _antagonizing..._

"We'll take it slow. However slow you want it to be..." he murmured closely towards my face.

Animalistic wasn't the word I'd describe how he looked. Maybe a little more like a refined, carnal way of letting a woman know you were going to be his, and he wasn't going to take no for an answer. In the subtlest yet succinct manner, of course.

My gaze shifting from his lips then to his eyes, each stroke of his caress seemed like a potion to something unhinged. Even though I tried to dispel his irresistible charms and sensual advances, I could only hang on to his words, hoping he meant them because, if the time came and I couldn't say no, I would count on him to save us both from the tricky predicament.

"Going slow would be a good start."

"I give you my word, ma belle." He paused before he brushed his lip against my ear, making my nipples hurt from this profound awareness of him and the intoxicating way he was speaking to me—with that sexy, accented English merely drowning me more in his sexual powers. " _But,"_ he gave me a deadpan look, "I want something from you tonight."

All this lavishness hadn't been spurred out of nowhere. I wasn't naïve enough not to understand what it all had been about from the moment his eyes zeroed in on me, bearing seduction in their depths. Ready or not, I had to do my duty.

"I know," I whispered as I met his gaze, unwavering from the promise I had signed a measly week ago.

"Très bien." He traced the outline of the fabric of my dress, leaving my skin feverish while I tried to rein in my body's overactive response. "Show me what you've hidden from me, Isobel. _Strip for me_ —every single fabric off your body."

Did he mean in the bedroom, or right this instant , out in the open where anyone could just walk in on us?

"Right here? _Right now?_ " Was he bluffing?

"Exactement." (Exactly.)

Oh, dear me. I knew he was a sensual man, but never in my wildest dreams had I ever thought he would want me to do something so reckless... so wanton... so vulgar. And even though my mind was protesting, my body's reaction had just escalated from excited to inflamed.

I watched how he lounged back in the cushions, toying with his drink as he gazed at me, waiting for me to do his bidding. I was half British, even though I had been raised Greek through and through. My beliefs and all the protestations of saving my sanctity had to be set aside to cater to this man. And I knew, once I went through this process, the next time would be bearable. One other thing that tugged at the back of my hesitation was my hoping Hugo would find my body satisfying enough to please him.

Sherry was voluptuous and sensual. She oozed sex each time she sashayed her hips. Chantel's confidence—her brazenness and exceeding amount of confidence and, not to mention, her gorgeous, fit body—would bring any male in a one mile radius to his knees. _Then there was me._ Pretty yet dull as I had once been described by my peers. Isobel Callas, slender with little to no experience except for Damen about sex, hoping this wouldn't dent my already slim sexual confidence.

Pushing myself up on my feet, I slowly walked a few steps away, enough for Hugo to see my entirety before I spun around to face the very man himself, knotted with such nervousness I felt nauseous.

"Unzip your dress... slowly," he breathed out succinctly. "And when I say, _slowly_ , I want an agonizing, unhurried display of sensuality."

Hell. Were all men past twenty-five like this? God help me. I had never been commanded in such a fashion.

" _Make_ me want you, ma belle. _Make_ my cock so hard I can't think of anything else but you."

## 10

# Hugo

Isobel's little gasps and shallow breathing, which begged for my eyes to note her smooth cleavage, didn't help at all to save my sanity. Everything she did tonight made me want her. From her smiles to the way she smelled. Or how she looked sexy, and yet, she had that air of innocence about her. She was lethal to my health the moment I laid eyes on her this evening. Even her nervousness only added to my already combustible body.

For a man like me, who wasn't capable of denying himself anything, it had been a hardship to harness this perfervid need to have her on the spot, which meant the driveway and with all of my security detail waiting patiently on us. However, all I had been able to think about was to devour her lips that reminded me of soft, pink petals and her body that was covered in a sexy gown that accentuated her best features. I had wanted to press her against the side of the car, nestle myself in between the warm crevice of her thighs before I hooked her leg above my hips and plundered into her wet, succulent depths. I wanted her moaning my name, begging me never to stop until I came inside of her and was drained to the last drop.

My passions were known across country, yet I always liked to preserve a little privacy for my mistresses, thus displaying them out in the open wasn't something I enjoyed. At the end of the day, I was a hot-blooded French man who admired beauty, but most of all, I was a possessive lover. I didn't like to share what was mine, even if it was for onlookers. Yet the desire to take her against my car, to hell with the rest of the people watching, had dimmed my mood.

I was a man in control, and when I felt this control being threatened by my passions, it became bothersome. I even found it ludicrous. However, my body demanded what it wanted, and as much as I wanted to put a wedge between us and keep her at arm's length, I knew I had to remedy this need soon or I wouldn't be responsible for my actions.

I needed her, in any way I could. Period.

With my sour mood and a flighty business deal, it had worsened when I saw her laugh and gaze those mesmerizing eyes towards Julien. My limits were sorely tested.

Julien was one of my closest friends, and though I knew he was a serial flirt and wouldn't dare take a woman of mine, it didn't escape my notice that Isobel had a welcoming look on her, like an open invitation for him to take her. A look she hadn't even dared give me, much to my disapproval.

There was no way Julien and I ever became competitive when it came to women. In the business arena? Sure, most men were. But never with women. There was a silent, honorable understanding between us, one that was respected just as much as we valued ourselves as business partners as well as rivals. Yet, there I was tonight—contemplating if I should rip his throat out just to wipe off that shoddy smile he had for Isobel.

I couldn't pinpoint the reason why she made me feel so volatile towards my friend. However, I was betting this odd hankering for her would dissipate once I'd had my fill of her.

Six months, day in and day out, she was mine. I was quite certain that, by the end of the fifth month, I would be counting down the hours until we would be free of each other. These affairs always tended to go sour after the third month; subsequently, I knew I shouldn't bother pondering about such trivial feelings because my time was valuable.

"Ma belle, are you ready?"

She nodded, though her eyes told me she had reservations. In the back recesses of my mind, I had convinced myself she would come out of this bargain a better lover for her next conquest—skillful and knowing the value of seducing your lover. Moreover, when the time came, she would effortlessly surrender herself to me. The contract be damned.

Appearing relaxed, as if I had all the time in the world lounging here as I watched her with intensity, was becoming difficult every second that ticked by. Isobel stood with feminine grace, though evidently lacking in confidence, as she lowered the zipper on the side of her dress. _This_ needed to change. She was a beautiful woman who had no idea the kind of power she possessed in her beauty itself. Her tantalizing eyes alone could hypnotize any human being. Her fire and sass came to life when she was in public, but in the bedroom, she was the total opposite. She would be confident in her own skin, dressed or sans clothing. I would make sure of it.

"Lentement." (Slowly.) "Don't take off your dress with abandonment. Let my eyes _savor_ every inch of your skin."

Her skin was perfectly tanned. The shade wasn't too dark nor was it pale. It seemed to glow, and when she gradually lowered her dress to reveal her perky breasts, my cock pulsed so badly that instead of pouring myself another glass of whiskey, I simply went straight to the bottle, helping myself until I felt the fiery sting burning in my stomach.

Her rosebuds puckered when she saw how hard I was. I didn't dare say a damn word, nor did I move because I was too skeptical of whether I could control myself. Our eyes clashed, and I felt her emotions through the few feet separating us. Then, when she bit her lip, there was something familiar about it. It was puzzling to figure out what it was, and at the same time, felt so intensely arousing.

"Keep going," I softly commanded as she lowered the dress past her hips, showing me the soft curves on her hips and her flat abdomen.

After stripping her dress, leaving only her tiny, rectangular, flimsy thong, I took a moment to let my eyes worship her. Her black, strappy stilettos emphasized her toned, slender gams.

"Venez ici." (Come here.)

There was hesitation in her eyes before she came to her senses and did as I had asked of her. Her shallow breaths, lip biting, and lip licking added to my lust.

"Come a little closer... until your legs touch my knees," I said roughly, feeling the rapid pumps of my heart and the adrenaline rushing into my system. When I felt the soft brush of her leg against mine, even with my trousers on, I could still feel the burn of it. I felt exhilarated. "Part your legs, Isobel."

Stifling my groan when my eyes roved towards her heavenly, parted warmth, I set my glass aside, my eyes focused on the intricate, lace-covered cunt. I reached my finger out and traced the fine edgings of lace, where it was against the outer lips of her pussy.

"You feel very soft," I rasped out, hoping at the same time I wouldn't lose control, not tonight anyway.

"Are you wet for me, _mon bel amant_?" (My beautiful lover.)

She shivered before she gave a small, reluctant nod, closing her eyes as if she was ashamed of herself for admitting she was aroused for me.

"How many men have touched you this way, Isobel?"

"Before you..." she said with difficulty, "there was only one."

_Mon dieu,_ but she was perfect. There was nothing more arousing to a man's eye than a woman who was in denial of herself, wanting a man reluctantly.

Pushing it further, my tongue curled on top of my bottom lip as I stared into her eyes while my finger went underneath the lace and felt her skin, trailing it farther into her pussy until I felt its hot, inviting essence.

"Isobel," I groaned out her name as I shut my lids close, tormented at the thought that I wouldn't get to feel her tonight. For a week, I had lusted in vain; exercising my frustrations on Chantel and Sherry because I wanted to give Isobel space, for my need to conquer her was so intense. She made me feel like an animal, and I couldn't fathom it. It was disconcerting, yet I couldn't stay away.

_Miséricorde!_ (Mercy.) I thought as my finger flicked past her wet entrance.

Her breathing was loud and in shallow pants. Her body was on fire as she trembled from my touch. And I was at the edge of being tested to the limit.

"Hugo!" she hissed before her knees buckled and she landed somewhat sitting on her knees while her hands gripped my shoulders.

" _Oui, ma belle_. Tell me what you want." Hunger roared in my veins as it rung into my ears, into my heart.

_Dieu, but she is so beautiful_ , I thought as I gazed upon her delicate face, fighting to hold on, fighting for control.

"Let me touch you," I breathed into her ear as my thumb circled her entrance. "I want to feel how tight you are. How your cunt will grip. How it feels when it envelopes my length, blanketing it with warmth and slickness."

"Sorry, I can't. That's not part of the deal, Hugo."

Something in her voice triggered my male pride. I knew she wasn't punishing me because she had been upfront when we had signed the contracts, yet I couldn't help the feeling of rejection. It was as if she'd slapped me, wounding me as a man.

"Très bien." I took a sharp breath as I pulled my finger off her, and I felt her freeze, glittering eyes staring at me in shock. "The deck below are bedrooms. Head straight all the way to the end. You can go rest. I have some work to do."

She gasped, mouth slightly parted. " _You're already dismissing me?_"

I was taking a break—a hiatus for my troubling thoughts—but she need not know that. "Yes. You are dismissed." Hurt bore openly in her eyes, but I steeled myself, unwilling to feel her pain. "Goodnight, Isobel."

_"Six months..."_ she hissed with passion. "And I won't ever think about you."

Ah, she had claws. Good. A woman who prided herself wouldn't dare fall for a man like me. Her spirited feistiness gave me assurance that there wouldn't be another Louise incident.

"Sleep well."

She groaned like a woman in rage, ready to strike, instead she jumped off me, scrambling to get away from me, looking as beautiful as ever in her fiery display, walking away in only her thong.

Isobel Callas.

_Every day you are becoming harder to resist_ , I thought bleakly before slumping into the couch and closing my eyes.

"Baiser tout," (Fuck everything.) I grunted out, hating my life.

I brought my finger, soaked in her essence, in between my lips. She tasted just as I had thought she would—an aphrodisiac.

The short spat I'd had with Julien earlier brought back everything I wanted to forget.

_"You don't want this to be another Louise, Hugo. She's too innocent, and you'll end up hurting her!"_ Julien surely hadn't held anything back tonight.

Louise Deniau.

I could totally understand Julien's concerns since there was something about Isobel that reminded me of Louise. However, Isobel _wasn't_ Louise. She had fire when Louise had been pure through and through. Her meekness and her ways of always wanting to put me first had been her weaknesses.

Funny how things played out tonight. It had been ten years after all.

It wasn't b long before I felt the guilt consume me once more. I had been warned, and yet I hadn't believed what my father had said. Ultimately, Louise had been the one who'd paid the price for my stupidity.

## 11

# Isobel

_" You can rest go rest. I have some work to do."_

_Bastard! How the heck do I manage to "rest" after what he just did to me? Treating me like I was some cheap tart that didn't have any feelings whatsoever. How dare he!_ I seethed as I jumped in the hot shower in the en suite bathroom of the master bedroom.

Was this how he treated his women? Chantel had simply had high praises for Hugo, but seeing how he'd been acting towards me for the past week, it was either he disliked me as a person or only saw me as a sex object.

Letting all six jets warm my body, I pondered harder about his immediate change of attitude. Well, he had become a total ass when I'd declined him about what he wanted. Therefore, he was after vaginal sex, which I had clearly stated in the contract—that we both had agreed to and signed—wasn't part of the deal.

Remembering that next morning of negotiation, I distinctly recalled everything that had happened that day.

* * *

_" There will be no vaginal sex. In the circumstances that Mr. Hugo Xavier won't honor this binding agreement, he will immediately dismiss Ms. Callas from the six months contract, freeing her from all debts her father, Mr. Constantin Callas, accrued," the lawyer, who had thick, black-rimmed glasses, said out loud enough for Hugo and I to hear him clearly. "Unless, of course, Ms. Isobel Callas asked of it herself, of her own free will."_

_"After six months, all debts will be cleared," one of them said out loud, giving me a dead look._

_"There is a mandatory monthly health check-up that is non-negotiable." The oldest of the four lawyers eyed me sharply. "After today, you will see a doctor that will be assigned to you for the duration of your stay. The doctor will provide contraception to prevent pregnancy. This is also non- negotiable."_

_Didn't he just hear what the other lawyer had stated minutes ago?_

_"Monsieur, there won't be a possibility for that, I can assure you." I protested as I gave Hugo a questioning look, hoping he'd change the terms._

_"It's non-negotiable, Ms. Callas," the uptight lawyer reinstated._

_Resigned and feeling helpless, I made a small nod. "Okay, I'll do it."_

_There was no doubt in my mind that Hugo covered all aspects when it came to his health and unwanted pregnancies. Consequently, when I went to go see the doctor and had my physical check-up, I wasn't a bit surprised that regular, good ole pills didn't suffice; instead, I was to get injections because pills were unreliable, apparently._

* * *

Hugo had the upper hand. But even though he had made me tremble with his skillful touch tonight, I wasn't going to give in to him. I was Damen's and _not_ his. His little tantrum of not getting what he wanted wouldn't cut it for me. It was best he knew that.

After my shower, I fell asleep waiting for him to come to bed. Since this was the main suite, I had thought he'd be sharing with me, but I was proven wrong the next day. I woke up with the other side of the bed untouched, which only led me to believe that he went somewhere else to satiate his needs.

After I got ready, showered and primed to face him, a soft knock came at the door.

"You may come in," I murmured as I applied gloss on my lips.

The butler from last night appeared when the door opened, clearing his throat to get my attention. "Madam, Monsieur Xavier gives his sincerest apologies for not being here to join you for breakfast. I'm afraid he had some private business to attend to. He said that you can take the rest of the day off, and if you're willing, there's a spa appointment ready for you at your convenience."

_Private business_ , I acidly thought while I made a tight smile towards his little minion. "Thank you. I'll be sure to consider it."

When the butler left, closing the door behind him, I threw my gloss back into my purse, feeling his barbed rejection once more.

Huffing, I gathered myself to go upstairs to eat breakfast. The sun was already beating hot, and it wasn't even ten in the morning. Taking the same seat from yesterday, my eyes scanned the small, delicious feast before me. Through his endlessly cold attributes, I couldn't fault Hugo when it came to feeding me well. Even when he wasn't around, he always had someone to bring me a meal.

"Mind if I join you?" A voice from behind made me snap my head towards the newcomer.

Well, what a surprise.

"Of course, there's enough to feed an army."

"That's kind of you." Chantel strode towards me before taking the opposing seat and then poured herself a cup of coffee from the traditional French pressed glass. She didn't speak until she finished pouring, giving me a friendly look. "You must be wondering what I'm doing here?" Her brow rose as she pulled out a cigarette, lighting it seductively as I watched in silence, in awe of her confident grace.

"You're here because Hugo sent you," I provided the answer without taking my eyes off her.

" _Non._ " She drew from her cigarette before tilting her head to the side, blowing off the smoke through her bright red, matte colored, stained lips. She had the typical French savoir-faire, one I truly admired in most of the women that trolled around The Riviera. Looking at me thoughtfully, she spoke again. "So, how are you finding everything so far? Staying at the villa? Hugo himself?"

This was the weirdest conversation I'd had with anyone to date. "I'm comfortable living in the villa, of course." The villa, which was aptly named Villa Blanc, was suitable for royalty. Whomever would detest that would be insane. "Hugo... well... I'm sure he's just being himself."

"Are you saying he's a jerk?" The word _jerk_ rolled with a heavy accent.

"Something like that," I replied as I reached for a croissant and pulled it apart. "Is he always so... rude?"

She thanked the butler for bringing her an ashtray before looking at me again. "Hugo is one of a kind. He's forward and cuts to the chase—a trait I admired most after being a mistress to a married man for five years."

Whoa.

Swallowing the piece of bread that got stuck in my throat, I gave her a frown. I had always wondered about my father and his women, and I had never really met anyone who openly admitted being a home wrecker.

She made a nonchalant shrug before taking a sip of her hot drink. "Don't look so shocked. You'll be surprised how most women around here are."

Good to know that tidbit. "Oh..."

"Hugo Xavier is a good man. I consider him a friend, like family, even if that doesn't make sense to you..." She paused looking away. "Sherry mentioned that you're only with us for six months?" She gazed back at me with a raised brow.

Her immediate shift of the subject made me tense.

"Six months and not a day more."

She made a nod before reaching out to touch my hand that was on the table. "You seem like a nice girl—maybe too young to handle a man like Hugo Xavier, but he chose you." Her brown eyes sought mine. "He's enigmatic and an excellent lover. He will shower you with everything and will say beautiful words that will make you feel hopeless, but I warn you, never fall for him. You don't want that kind of life." There was something ominous with her warning, as if she wasn't telling me the entire truth.

"Of course I won't." Did she think I was that desperate? I loved Damen. "There's no risk of that," I assured her as I gave her a straight, pointed look. "Besides, Hugo might be handsome, but trust me when I say that I have given my heart a long time ago."

"That's reassuring to hear, Isobel."

If I didn't see the warmth in her eyes, I would've assumed this woman was out to get me because she herself was in love with Hugo. However, there was something in her expression that told me her coming here to warn me had been done with good intentions, thus I went with my gut, truly believing her.

"Do you have any plans today? I have a spa appointment, and it would be lovely if you could join me."

"Sounds like a plan. I'd love to join you." She beamed at me before taking another cigarette out and lighting it with gusto.

We spent a few hours at the spa getting massages, facials, and manicures. During that time, we chatted about our lives with a few helpings of Rosè.

I found out she was twenty-eight and had fled Paris when things hadn't panned out with her affair with the married man that had lasted for five years. Chantel was apparently in college when she dropped out and had left Paris to heal her wounds. As much as I tried to pry the name of the man in question, she would make this small laugh and brush the subject off. So I abandoned the subject, leaving me wondering about her life.

In return, I spoke about Damen—my first love, and the love of my life. Though she didn't ask much about my deal with Hugo, her empathizing about my situation made me feel a little better. Apart from Father, it was great to know there was another human being I could openly talk about it with since my father was such a coldhearted bastard. I didn't even doubt that, after this deal, he'd go on thinking this was simply a mandatory duty as his daughter. He wouldn't dare say thank you because that would be beyond his capabilities. Bemoaning about my unfortunate father wouldn't get me anywhere, however, therefore I left him out of the picture and vaguely described him as a non-parent, parent.

The rest of our time, we didn't speak much about Hugo or his history. It was spent about her reminiscing over the beauty of Paris and how she'd love to go back someday. When she was ready to face her wounded past, she'd make that trip to memory lane.

Entering the vast foyer, Chantel and I had just arrived at the villa when the house vibrated with sounds—and I meant heavy moans and pounding.

The echo of a woman's screeching and screams as she was being pleasured made me stop in my tracks. Standing in the middle of the circular foyer, I stared ahead in the vast, freshly waxed, marbled hallway, mystified and visibly in shock. There was no doubt that it was Hugo's skillful efforts that made the woman shout to the rooftops. And since I was with Chantel, the woman singing his praises was Sherry.

Was this an insult to me? Maybe I was overreacting, but I somehow felt offended, because last night he blatantly dismissed me like I was some rubbish.

Chantel came up behind me. "Have you ever seen him in action?" Her question made me frown.

Shaking my head, I glanced back at her, wondering what she was thinking about.

She winked at me before taking my hand. "Come, he usually doesn't mind."

"Usually doesn't mind?" I parroted like a frightened idiot. "Hell, no. I'm fine."

Was she out of her loony mind? What she was suggesting was shameless. Besides, if I said yes, what did that make me? _A very curious individual?_ My mind kindly provided.

Her hold tightened, pulling me farther into the house while I tried to stop her, but she didn't care. Maybe because she had no clue about some of my secretly hidden insecurities when it came to Hugo.

"You're such a shy girl. We can hide if you want." She kept on pulling us farther in, and the sounds became harsher. It was much more profound, echoing against the walls, and I couldn't help that I was getting goose bumps from Sherry's animal dying-like sounds.

"Come on, you have to see."

Dammit. As much as I hated to admit it, I was beyond curious.

"And you promise he won't see me?"

"He won't if you don't make a sound..."

Feeling like the ultimate peeping tom, the temptation of seeing him in action overrode rational thought. The two hadn't even bothered shutting the double doors in his library. They'd simply gone at it, uncaring of the helpers and other people that could easily witness them mate like rabbits—well, more like Hugo not having sex, but fucking to be precise. Yes. I hadn't known what fucking meant until that very moment.

"Look at how he thrusts. Only a man with enough muscular strength on his lower back and arms and a great sense of rhythm can thrust perfectly like that," said the woman, whisper-hissing into my ear, who thought Hugo was the ultimate sex god. She'd admitted as much.

As much as I would like to quietly think of a snarky comment to make myself feel better, I couldn't help noticing the power he exuded with each thrust. The only thing I could think about was him thrusting and how it would feel to be spread eagled on his antique desk, wide-eyed, gasping for his next invasion, feeling thrilled and utterly consumed by one man—Hugo.

"Watch how he dominates. He makes you come undone. With one touch, you just want to do anything to please him," she went on with her words of awe and worship.

I couldn't fault her. No wonder she was fine with this arrangement. A part of me wondered what it would be like to have him like this. At the same time, I knew my imagination would never turn into reality. I was a controlled woman who didn't give in to her urges of sexuality. I wasn't carnal; I was in love with Damen. No more, no less.

"He makes a woman tremble." Chantel gave me a quizzing look. "Don't you think so?"

Her whisper-hissing aside, it annoyed me she was saying the right words about Hugo's masculinity and sexuality. Because, yes, as much as I would hate to openly admit it, I, too, trembled. I, too, became so sexually aroused I felt the wetness in between my legs before I realized what it was, and it bothered me greatly.

Six months, and I would be out of here in a heartbeat. Hugo and his odd sense of lifestyle wasn't my problem. I was his plaything, yet I couldn't allow myself to subconsciously submit to him even if my body had never felt so entranced until Hugo touched me seductively. Damen's techniques were mediocre compared to his, but I would never submit to them. This was obligation. _He_ was obligation, nothing more.

Loudly grunting my dissatisfaction, I was about to spin around and leave Chantel to her voyeurism when those dark depths snapped at me, connecting our eyes, when it struck me.

I had met him before.

But the question was, _when_? Because I couldn't recall.

## 12

# Isobel

I immediately fled the scene with my heart pounding against my chest. Seeking the comfort of my own space, I rushed towards the right wing of the house and inside my bedroom. Once in there, I shut the door behind me before leaning against it, eyes closed as the images of him played in my mind, as I tried to remember where and when I had seen Hugo before. Maybe it was something about his side profile that seemed to have triggered a sense of familiarity about the man.

My God, what was that downstairs? Was this how he conducted his private life? Whereas his public persona held him in high regard, the opposite applied to his personal affairs. Yet everyone seemed to have accepted it. There was no talk of protest or any disgusting comments. _Why was that?_ I wondered.

It was infuriating if I came to think about the fact he had left this morning without saying anything to me personally because he was in a rush to take care of a "personal matter." Then he books me a spa appointment, only to find him engaged in his sexual exploits in his library upon my return. Whatever good opinion I had possessed of him had just turned to nil. It was obvious I wasn't truly needed. Couldn't he be less narcissistic and assign me somewhere I could use some brain activity? I was majoring in Journalism, I was certain I could be of some use somewhere in his vast selection of businesses. Being his plaything was boring, and that's all he ever did, _play_

He played with my mind and my emotions.

Sex was already covered by Chantel and Sherry. I was the fourth wheel he only summoned when the first two options were both exhausted.

I had always wondered what it was to be a socialite, what it meant to be pampered to the point one's main goal was simply to look pretty and shop until you dropped. Being chauffeured around with a limitless credit card where I could shop for whatever I wanted. Doing whatever my heart desired only proved what I had known all along; I simply couldn't be a man's trophy.

Watching my mom deteriorate had only made me want to thrive harder to become the polar opposite of how she had gone about her life. Everything had halted the moment she'd gotten engaged. From then on, it was wedding, marriage, making a home, and then having babies. She said it herself before she had a miscarriage, that this was a woman's role in life; to provide a home for her husband and children. I had nothing against marriage or having children, but I would certainly make sure the man I chose to marry would accept and respect my choices, that I would have a job of my own, regardless if we had children or not. Because one thing was clear to me; women felt obligated to give up their hopes and dreams the moment they said their _I dos._ Then they started losing their identity because they'd be too consumed in their new life, trying to please their in-laws and husband so hard they'd lose track of what had made them happy in the first place.

I'd rather stay single than have a life like my mother's. I wouldn't even settle for a life like Sherry's or Chantel's, even though they would want for nothing when it came to material and monetary aspects. Even then, I wouldn't dare. Leading a lavish and glamorous life was amazing, but I'd rather be borderline poverty and be with the man I loved than live a meaningless life.

Peeling my clothes off, I changed into a soft cotton robe before I pulled my hair into a haphazard bun and sat on my bed, turning on my laptop.

I had one email from my friend Clara. Opening the mail, my lips broke into a smile when a picture instantly downloaded into view, showing my friends sunbathing with drinks and cheesy, happy smiles plastered on all of their faces. It also included Damen.

_Are you still in Monaco? When will you be back? Island hopping isn't the same without you. We miss you!_

Staring at the picture, I could only imagine how much fun I was missing. I had been saving for six months for this trip because my father would rather keel over than give me an allowance. I was fine with it, working part-time while in school was tough, but it taught me discipline and how to budget my money. For six months, I had saved every extra penny, knowing it would all be worth it come summertime. Obviously it hadn't panned out the way I had pictured it because my father had come out with threats and demands. I was supposed to be spending my summer with Damen. This was supposed to be our time together without projects, exams, and other obligations we faced in our daily lives.

Poor Damen. Ever since we started dating, things hadn't been easy for us. Nor did it help that my father was so against it, calling Damen dirt and saying he was only after our money. I remembered thinking, what money? Did he not realize he gambled most of our riches away? That we were nearing bankruptcy, but his father always tended to find a way to help him somehow?

Though Damen and his family didn't have the riches they used to have, the only thing that mattered to me was how much he loved me. I trusted him with everything. I was sure my friends were doing their best to keep him well and happy. By the looks of it, he seemed like he was enjoying himself, so I supposed I shouldn't worry as much.

Sighing, I put my computer aside, feeling a bit blue because my summer plans had never happened. Instead of enjoying the company of my friends and having fun, I was stuck with an unconventional womanizer who seemed to have a secret about this woman who had fallen for him. Chantel and Julien said never to fall for him, yet they never clarified what the hell happened to her. They gave mild warnings, yet no explanation. It was as if I should just heed it without thought. It wasn't like it was a possibility because it would never happen, but what had really happened that got Hugo so bent up?

A knock came at the door before it was opened and in came the very sex god incarnate himself. "Isobel?"

Shutting the door behind him, he was dressed in white, linen, drawstring pants and a white, fitted, cotton muscle shirt, glaringly showing off his toned physique. His hair was wet, indicating he was freshly out of a shower and not hot and sticky from his extreme thrust-filled workout less than hour ago. He looked more than hot and sexy, and his presence merely irritated me because, well, for such a narcissistic pig, it would've been fair if there was something physically unattractive about him; long nose, too wide eyes, a unibrow?

Annoyed and irritated that I even noticed how good he looked, I made an effort to get out of bed, tightening the belt of my robe before I decided to glance back towards him.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Xavier?" Hiding my temper wasn't truly my forte. Furthermore, since we were going to be living in the same house for quite some time, it was better off if I acted like myself and not the woman who was basically jumping to meet his demands because I felt indebted to him. I was, in a sense, until the contract was up. Still, I was done playing nice to His Royal Highness.

My barbed attitude didn't go unnoticed. "So we're back to Mr. Xavier again?" he asked, pausing in the middle of the room, standing tall and definitely in command.

"I'm working for you, do I not?" I paused. "Mr. Xavier it is then."

He drilled holes into me, obviously feeling the heavy dose of my nasty, unpleasant manner. "I'm hoping this change of attitude wasn't from what you witnessed downstairs?"

_Amongst other things, perhaps._ "You _think_ it's because you openly fuck your girlfriends where anyone could just watch you successfully nail them into your table?"

"You knew what you were getting into when you signed the contract, Isobel. So don't give me this shitty attitude because you just got a wakeup call." The cutting look he gave me merely inflamed my anger more.

Trying to calm my breathing, I didn't bother continuing the discussion about the contract and his indecent behavior. "Do you need something, Hugo?"

"My aunt is coming to town, and I have a favor to ask." Placing his hands inside his pockets, he then cleared his throat when I gave him a blank look. "She's not very fond of my lifestyle."

"I doubt anyone is." I couldn't help blurting it out; it was as if my mouth was possessed and had a mind of its own. "Except for _you,_ of course," I sarcastically added another layer of barb.

His chocolate eyes darkened from my incessant behavior. "Careful, ma belle. Don't overstep yourself with these snide comments. I can only tolerate so much."

Fine. I intended to keep my mouth shut before I said something I'd regret.

Taking my silence as a green light, he continued with his explanation, "I have to send Sherry and Chantel to travel for the next few weeks until my aunt and my cousin's stay is over. You're closer to Elena's age, therefore I'm requesting if you could play chaperone."

"Are you asking me to be your cousin's babysitter?" He was sending his girlfriends away because they were too precious to be bothered by his aunt, and I was the dispensable, contractual woman whom he could order about. Great. I was his substitute personal assistant, somewhat plaything of a lover, his aunt's entertainer, and a partial babysitter. I wondered what other _skillful_ assignments I'd get after this.

"Don't be so overdramatic. Elena's in her early twenties. Hardly a baby."

Whatever. I needed something to cool me down. Maybe I could take one of his vintage bottles of reds from his impressive wine cellar after this conversation. Giving him a haughty look, I conceded that it was best to follow his orders instead of defying him. It was too early to provoke him anyway, and even though the contract was signed and sealed, there was still a part of me that was afraid he could easily void it out and call the police on my father. As much as I hated my father, I couldn't fathom hurting my mother; she was already going through so much pain that the news of my father getting into trouble again would basically push her over the edge. I was scared that, one day; she'd snap and end herself.

"Isobel?"

My mind had wandered off again.

Shaking my thoughts off my parents, I gazed at him. "Hmm? What?" I asked, blinking a couple of times.

He frowned at me. "You still haven't given me your answer."

Drat. Chaperone was to be me, then. "Yeah, I suppose I don't have much of a choice."

"You always get to have a choice, that's why I'm asking for your permission. Don't think that, since you're under contract, it means I get to tell you what to do without your consent." He was getting worked up, nose flaring, jaw locking, and the lot. "I'm not a tyrant and I certainly don't work like that. It's best you remember this fun fact."

Did I hit a sore nerve? It looked like it.

"Well, that's comforting to know." I licked my lips before looking away from his too delectable profile. "I'll do it."

"Good," he said after a full minute. "Thank you."

Dammit. Even when sparring, he acted polite and gentlemanly. "Okay. You're welcome."

"I have a business dinner to attend to. Have a goodnight, Isobel."

Who was his plus one? I was dying to know, yet I didn't even dare ask the infuriating question.

"Night," I finally said before he opened the door and exited my room.

Fifteen minutes later, I was left staring at the door, wondering what was wrong with me. In the beginning, I had been grateful he even considered my father's proposal, but in the span of a week, hate and anger had somehow managed to wiggle their way in, making me question why the man evoked so much emotion out of me. Given that it was hate, anger, and displeasure, why did _I care_ to feel hate, anger, and displeasure? I was left more confused than an hour ago.

## 13

# Isobel

Two days later, his aunt and cousin Elena arrived late in the afternoon. We were out in the garden, underneath a pergola that had white, see-through silk veils, overlooking the beautiful French Riviera. Hugo was supposed to join us but was actually running late, and I had to prematurely play hostess until His Highness was back from his business endeavors.

Elena, just as I had expected, appeared like a spoiled, bored princess, minding only herself as she frantically tapped away on her phone.

His aunt Julee and Elena had the same features as Hugo—dark hair, chocolate eyes, and excellent gene pool. Both women also had that kind of air of elegance that was purely imbued from a very young age, most especially his aunt. From the way she carefully sipped on her china to her indirect way of interrogating me, it was all done with refined finesse. If it weren't for her obvious doubts about me, I could've actually gotten along with her. Then again, I couldn't blame her suspicions. I did, after all, come out of thin air as she'd carefully put it.

She might have appeared poised and calm, but I wasn't fooled. After all, my family ran with circles that reminded me of Julee; suspicious, self-righteous, self-entitled.

"I found it rather odd that Hugo instantly changed his lifestyle after ten years of being an infamous Casanova all over Europe." Her brow raised a tad before a malice-filled smile. "Pardon my rudeness, but I just don't believe it."

Well, then why even try to appease her already made up mind? "You're more than welcome to your own opinion." Shrugging, I reached out to take a sip of my coffee. I took my time sipping, tasting the liquid on my tongue before I placed it back on the saucer. "It seems you've already made up your mind, so I'm under no obligation to change it."

"Carry on that attitude, and you wouldn't last long with my nephew. I can guarantee you that," she threatened, her composure slightly slipping from her anger.

My, not even an hour in, and we were already enemies. Great. However, as much as I wanted to play nice, she was the one who'd started it, and I wasn't going to let her treat me like dirt. My father already filled that role in my life; I need not do with another.

"As the saying goes, there are a lot of fishes in the ocean..." my rebuttal came with a smug look. "So I'm not bothered by your threats."

Julee became tomato red as she instantly stood up, glaring down at me. "Hugo won't tolerate this disrespect towards his family. I'll make sure he knows how selfish you are."

_Seriously?_ "Be my guest, Julee," I murmured before I watched her walk away, raving mad with anger.

"My mother... She's something, isn't she?"

My head spun to the side to glance at Elena. "She definitely is." My riled up emotions started to ebb away, making me sigh with relief. "I had no idea that you were paying attention to the conversation."

"I _always_ pay attention," she blurted out, giving me a wicked smile. "I can't stand my mother. One gets creative in ignoring her." She considered me a moment, studying me. "Don't mind her. She's just bitter that my father divorced her for a younger woman."

Very well. She was a scarred woman; scorned and bitchy. They were the best ones, out to get whomever they could to join their miserable lot.

"Hugo told me you're going to be my vacation buddy," she started saying before I gave her a curt nod. "Tonight. Eight p.m. We're going out to meet some of my friends that are here for a week. So take out that little mini black dress; we're about to come out and play all night long."

Party. _With people that were my age_. Sounds like a perfect way to end my night. I needed some fun after being confused ever since I moved in the Villa Blanc.

"Sounds brilliant."

Elena stood up, stretching like a tired feline. "Time to get a little beauty rest before getting ready for tonight. I'll see you at eight."

"See you."

All by my lonesome, I thought about the night ahead of me. Maybe having Elena around wasn't so bad after all. Because, truth be told, I was dying to let loose and forget about Hugo for a few hours.

Hugo arrived when the sun was about to set. It wasn't that I was scared to face him because I challenged his aunt, but for some reason, I didn't feel like facing him just yet. Subsequently, I decided to take the stairs that were carved from the very rock itself that led to the shore below.

I needed reprieve from the chaotic life I lived in at the moment. It was one of the reasons why I had decided to study in England, even though my father had been completely opposed to it.

The azure water looked marvelous, aglow with the sun's last rays. Watching the sun setting low, I thought of my mother who loved watching it out from the balcony. It was a daily ritual for her. She'd stare at it, as if saying a prayer. When I was little, I used to sit on her lap with her hugging me tightly from behind. I remembered her saying, _"No matter how bad our day goes, you can always count on this moment to make you feel good. We take a moment to appreciate how beautiful life is. There's always beauty amidst the ugliness this world has to offer. Never forget that, Isobel."_ Those words had stuck with me most because it was a reminder of how my mother's life was. She was unhappy and knew the ugliness my father was made of, yet she wouldn't ever leave his side. All she had were those sunsets to remind her that life wasn't always dark and cruel.

My mother. My poor mother. There was a time when I thought my father was only verbally abusive to her until that day where he had done something to prove the lengths he'd go through to punish me.

* * *

_" You are not going anywhere, Isobel. You're staying in Athens. End of discussion!" he roared at me, looking enraged with his neck turning the shade of crimson and eyes that made my bones shake._

_I had never seen Father this angry, yet I knew if I didn't stand my ground and fight for what I wanted, I would be stuck here in Athens, living under the same roof with him. Going to England to study was my only legit way out without rousing too much suspicion._

_I'd had an idea he wouldn't be pleased, but somehow, I had sort of convinced myself I had the means to persuade him this was for the best. Seeing him beyond furious at my audacity to even contemplate leaving our home, let alone leaving the country, I wasn't so sure I had the capacity to make him understand my reason._

_"Father, please—"_

_He marched towards me, eyes bulging out of its sockets as he breathed down on me before he unleashed his fury. "My decision's final! Don't you dare defy my authority as the man of this house. No more about this nonsense."_

No... please _, I quietly begged him through my eyes. I had to make him understand that even his authority wouldn't stop me from achieving my dreams. This was my time, and I wouldn't let him steal this away from me, too._

_With my heart ramming against my heart, my will pushed me to the inevitable. "I've accepted... and I already bought an airplane ticket. I'm going, Father, whether you approve or not."_

_Before I even managed to take a breath after I finished speaking, my father's strong, furious hand wrapped around my neck, choking me. "You insolent child! You want to leave this house because you long to be that boy's whore. You're worthless, just like your mother." Each word he said made him look like he was Satan before he started to lift me off the floor. My air passage was completely blocked as I tried to detach his hand from my neck, but he was too strong for me to fight off._

_When I was sure I was turning blue and would die that very moment because my vision became blurry, something happened._

_"Let her go!" Yanni, my younger brother, interrupted, punching Father in the face, making him drop me to the floor, heaving and gasping for air in my lungs. "Iso, you okay?" he asked worriedly before he focused his attention on his target. My father almost fell to the floor, but what he did next was quite the unexpected._

_His laugh—the mind-bending evil kind of laugh that only demonic people possessed—bellowed out of him, appearing as if he was finding this situation easy to laugh off._

_"Saving your sister was a mistake." My father's dead eyes burned into me before they landed on my brother. "Throwing your fist at me guaranteed that your life will be hell." He glanced at me before flicking his gaze back to Yanni. "Consider this a lesson to you both," he warned before leaving us to recover._

_Five minutes later, when I thought my day couldn't get any worse, I heard the most chilling of screams from my mother._

* * *

Later, I found out that he punched her in the stomach because he deemed it useless that it couldn't even hold a baby. He believed that a woman's womb was made to carry all babies. Women that couldn't were, therefore, a disgrace. _This_ was one of the reasons he tried to justify his lifestyle—full of gambling, deceit, and countless women who were idiotic enough to buy his bullshit.

Every time I thought about that time, I felt responsible for bringing more hurt to my mother. It was selfish of me, yet I knew I had to follow my gut, and the need to be free of my father's shackles was just too profound to ignore.

"Here you are. I've been looking all over for you."

_Hugo_. Crap. Was he here to reprimand me of my abhorrent behavior towards his aunt? "Is this about your Aunt Julee? Listen, she—"

"She said that you were a cheeky, ill-mannered gold digger."

Cheeky? Probably. Ill-mannered? Definitely. But a gold digger? I certainly wasn't. Ever since I had arrived here, I had tried to ignore the deep, nagging feeling of loneliness, or how I wished to be with my friends and spend this precious time with Damen instead of playing charades with the megalomaniac named Hugo Xavier. Putting a brave face on everyday was a challenge as it was, and then, in comes Julee Favre with her brow raising, elegant self, questioning my position in Hugo's _faux_ love life.

Wearing an insufferable expression, I had to lay how I felt about his aunt out for him. "Your aunt had it coming," I said unapologetically. "If you're here to ask me to apologize to her, then you're wasting your breath."

"I'm not here for that." He eyed me thoughtfully, angling his face so the last rays of the sun basked over him, making him glow. Chocolate brown turned into golden, fiery lava before me, taking my breath away. "Although, it's quite an accomplishment to get her so viciously mad."

"Was that... _a compliment?_ " I hid a shy smile.

He matched my grin, eyes dancing at me, amused. "I know she's difficult. At one point, I was worried how you'd fair with her, but I guess that answers my curiosity."

"Well, I aim to please, _Your Highness_ ," I teased further; glad I hadn't ticked him off about his aunt.

"Is that so?" he murmured with a look about him, staring at me with wonderment.

_The look_ he was giving me made me thirsty. Touching the base of my throat, I timidly gazed at him. "What?"

"You just surprise me." A frown creased his handsome profile before he reached out and cupped my cheek. His touch simply shocked me. "I never thought a smile could mesmerize me..." he rasped out. "But you have proven me wrong."

Dear me. What was he doing? He had never acted this way, like he was starting to like me. Not the Isobel he saw, but the woman inside me.

"I can't stop thinking about you, Isobel." He sounded strangled, just as confused as I was. "I don't want to, and yet you remain in my mind..."

"Hugo..." What should I say to him? Damn. He needed to know. "Please, don't go there. We both know that this is purely business. Don't make it more than that."

"That's the thing, _I do_ know this." He seemed tormented. "And I do know that you're in love with a man named Damen Zabat."

Had I heard him right? "How did you—"

"A thorough background check is part of being a mistress. It was in the contract you signed."

"Oh." Had I failed to see it? Maybe I had, but my mind had been preoccupied with more pressing decisions from what the contract entailed.

He sighed loudly before he gazed out onto the sea, pondering. "Is it wrong that the more you deny me, the more I want you? Your heart might belong to another man, but your body wants me, Isobel."

It was sad; however, what he was saying was the truth. My traitorous body couldn't help eagerly responding to his touches. I was attracted to him, and this carnal feeling I felt each time I saw him was pure torment, because I didn't want to feel this way. It was wrong, and yet, when he touched me, all I could think about was him and this spellbinding power he had over my body.

He took a moment before he spun around and faced me, looking determined. "Tell me I'm lying."

"I wish I could." I bit the bottom of my lip, hating the fact I was in this position. Almost a week ago, I had been absolutely sure Hugo wouldn't have any power over me. That I would be in control of everything. I wasn't so sure any longer. But for Damen, I'd keep fighting this off until I was out of fight. "But nothing will come of it. _That_ I can assure you."

"You seem certain."

_Damen. Just think of Damen and his love_. "Because I am."

Thinking hard, I wondered about the times he had intimately touched me yet didn't execute anything that was agreed upon. It made me wonder if this was his plan all along—for something more rewarding in the end. Unless, of course, this was just my imagination going into overdrive. After all, he'd been distant on moment and seductive the second. He blew hot and cold, making it hard for me to read his true intentions.

"Why am I really here?" glancing at him wearily, I voiced out my suspicion.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Let's drop the pretense that you plan to do anything with me other than being your go-to, all around person to make your life easier," I challenged him to deny it. "So I'm asking again, what's my purpose?"

He immediately looked formidable. The baffled man earlier vanished as if it had been a figment of my imagination. "Your purpose is _me_ , Isobel," he stated succinctly.

Our eyes battled before I stepped into his space, our noses almost touching, challenging him. "Sex. This boils down to sex." I hatefully gritted out. "Funny how _nothing's_ happened."

"I want you," he hissed into my face, eyes locking with mine. "I want to possess this body like no other man has ever done. I want to fuck your pussy until I've had my fill with it, until you can't think of Damen."

Oh, wow. Had this been the reason why he'd been all twisted with me?

"Didn't you get the memo? No vaginal sex. That's what we agreed upon. Have you forgotten? I could rehash it for you if you want."

"I never forgot that I'm only allowed to have you the other way..." His eyes dropped to my lips before he pressed his chest against my aching breasts, making the tension much more powerful. "It's tempting, ma belle." He said the words as if he was caressing them on my skin—I felt the heat of them. "Sometimes, I lay at night wondering if I should take that offer because I can't seem to get my fill of you." He paused. "But doing that will cause pain, and I don't want to hurt you."

"Huh." He didn't want to hurt me. Funny how that wasn't in the contract, but here he was, acting noble when he was after something I wasn't willing to give. "So, instead, you're waiting around, hoping I'll change my mind," I provided the answers without blinking.

"Yes." He didn't deny it.

Well, too bad. My vagina wasn't open for business, not even for a man who made me feel this aroused with merely one look from him. He exuded a kind of power over me... Regardless, I knew better.

"That'll never happen, Hugo." This was all a game to him. I had become a challenge. The only thing I could hang on to was my love for Damen. I knew that would give me enough strength to fight this sexual attraction we both had for each other.

"Let's make a deal."

_"Another one?"_

"Spend some time with me—two weeks—and at the end of that, you can make your decision. Whatever it is, I promise to respect it and leave the subject alone." He seemed sincere enough.

But this was Hugo Xavier we were talking about. He had inherited an empire, which had the capacity to triple all of his riches. No doubt he was sharp and conniving. Trusting him would be unwise, yet declining this offer would lead him to play dirty, and I wasn't sure I could handle that. At least with this one, I could keep my guard up and come out proving him wrong.

"And?" I pressed with determination. "I have a feeling there's an _and_ attached to that sentence."

" _And_ you're bound to spend the rest of your time until the contract is up; babysitting, making coffee, driving me crazy from flaunting something I can't have." He seamlessly provided me with hope.

"That sounds too easy." I was a tad doubtful. After all, he had me in exchange for pardoning my father's debt of three hundred thousand Euros. To a man like him, it might not amount to much, but to me, it meant everything.

"We shall see. I have yet to seduce you, ma belle." His thumb brushed the bottom of my lip, making me tingle all over. It was as if he zapped electricity within me, sparking fireworks everywhere, in every pore of my body. "Maybe seducing you wouldn't be too easy."

Bloody shit. Why did he have to come out and make me feel like this was going to be the fight of my life? My mind was tortured enough; battling with my body's needs and wants would be another matter. Suffice it to say that, at the very end of this ruse, it would be _I_ who made the final decision. Believing this comforted me enough to stand my ground.

"Seduce away because this woman won't bat an eyelash even when you try."

He made a throaty, deep-bellied laugh. The sexy kind where a woman was bound to feel enthralled, staring at his throat, noticing how even he could make that look wholly enticing.

"I love your snarky cattiness, Isobel." He bestowed his über sexually charged kind of smile, making me weak in the knees.

"It only comes out when I feel threatened or vulnerable."

He seemed amused. "And which one are you? Threatened... or vulnerable?" He had that look that made me think he was about to kiss me but was trying hard not to.

"Neither. None of this is working for me, Hugo," I bluffed.

"Be that as it may..." he conceded but remained determined. "Are you up for the challenge, ma belle? It's only two weeks—fourteen days of your time—and since you're quite confident, this would be too easy for you not to resist."

He was right. Of course he was. Still, he remained persistent. Well, I could have my fun by proving him wrong time and time again.

"Fine, two weeks it is." I braced myself before giving him a dismissive look. "Anyhow, I better get going and start getting ready."

"Ready for what?" he questioned, appearing as if he wasn't ready to let me off the hook just yet. "Where are you going?"

"Babysitting duties."

He sighed. "Elena doesn't waste time, does she?" His expression changed into a worried one. "Watch her carefully, and don't let her get too drunk. She has a tendency to kiss whomever she finds attractive, which could mean the entire populace in attendance."

Was he joking? I'd think it, but his worrisome expression told me he wasn't bluffing. Damn. "She's that wild?"

"I wouldn't ask you to chaperone her if I thought she was angelic. Maybe she could learn a thing or two from you." He suddenly looked less serious. "Benoît will drive you both tonight."

Hmm, I doubted that.

"We shall see," I murmured for the last time before leaving him on the shore.

I went on my way towards the villa, ready to have fun tonight. Suddenly, this chaperone thing didn't look as awful as I'd thought it would be.

## 14

# Hugo

It was ten at night, and I was in my home office adjacent to the library. Since Isobel and Elena weren't here and my other two women were gallivanting somewhere else for the time being, I was left to my own devices for the very first time, which I wasn't accustomed to.

For two hours, I'd been fighting the urge to see what Elena and Isobel were up to. But each time I felt like going, I would argue with myself that Isobel was entitled to have a little enjoyment since she'd lacked that ever since she had moved in with me.

The woman took precedence in my mind, and no matter how much I tried to diminish my want for her by occupying my time with the others, it only made the hunger worsen. Therefore, I was left with no choice other than to come to terms with this—that _this_ wouldn't go away until I found a solution. I hadn't had one until the woman herself had thrown a challenging look at me; one that would make any man who was consumed by wanting to possess something... a little crazy. I hadn't felt this way since I was in my early teens. She exhilarated me in a way that got me more fixated to prove her wrong.

She had admitted that her body responded to me, but she had chosen to ignore it. Because of Damen. Knowing the fact she was in love with another man didn't bother me an inch because I wasn't after her heart. This connection I had with her was primal and all about sex. Nothing more, nothing less.

My thoughts halted when my shrilling phone interrupted. Taking the phone out of my pocket, I took the call. "Bonsoir, Père." (Good evening, Father.)

"Julee just called to invite me to lunch with her tomorrow."

"Maybe it's time to bury the hatchet? She _is_ Maman's sister." Mother's been dead for over fifteen years now and still those two never got along. Neither one ever, as I recalled, had nice things to say to each other. They were always bickering.

It started when Julee was against my mother marrying him because she deemed him unworthy of her. She went out of her way to make that known by playing tricks on him, however my father was a determined man and kept pursuing my mother until the day she died. My father loved her more than anything, and when she had died during her ski trip with Julee and their friends, my father hadn't been the same since. Though he had moved on and dated, even remarried a couple of times, his heart had stayed true to my mother.

"You know I never liked her, but it was because of your mother that I tolerated her." He sounded exasperated, as if talking about Julee was draining all of his energy away. "She also mentioned a woman named Isobel. I'm assuming she's your new lover to pass the time by?"

Isobel was hardly a lover, let alone mine. Perhaps soon that would change. "Get to the point."

"You _know_ it's unwise."

Like I would ever forget. It was impossible to. He made sure of it. "Sherry and Chantel are very much in the picture. They're simply taking a break, vacationing in their chosen destination. This hiatus is merely temporary."

"Thank God," he grumbled loudly, relieved that whatever my Aunt Julee was speculating was merely that, a speculation. "I'm glad this is nothing serious, but pay heed, my son. Never make the same mistake again."

Every single time, like I would ever forget it. I wished things were different, but this was apparently our fate. One mistake was all it took before it became a domino effect for everyone. Even when I was indirectly involved, I, too, bore the brunt of his punishment.

"Why are we paying for sins that were made a decade ago? Isn't it enough that we've suffered and paid for the consequences?" It angered me to even think about it. I had attempted to end it, although the price that had come along with my ingenuousness had been high. It had taught me a lesson—that sometimes making a sacrifice was easier than putting other people's lives in danger. I would never make that same mistake again.

"Every day, I'm grateful that your mother wasn't alive to witness any of it."

"So am I," I made the same sentiment. "Well, I'm bidding you goodnight and try to play nice with Julee. Francois _did_ just divorce her."

"Julee... a delicate divorcee." He made a sardonic laugh. "Goodnight, son."

"Dormez bien, Père." (Sleep well.)

After hanging up on my father, my cell phone immediately buzzed to life again. This time it was Benoît. "Oui."

"Monsieur, I apologize to interrupt your night, but I lost sight of mademoiselle Elena and mademoiselle Isobel. The club is unexpectedly packed."

It was summer, of course it was. Then again, given Benoît's age and my less inclined desire to go to clubs, this most likely came as a shock to him. The issue I'd been contemplating had just been provided with an answer.

"I'm on my way," I said after he gave me the location.

Heading back towards Monaco, I recalled the moment when I was on my way upstairs from the living room after my short talk with Julee when I caught sight of Isobel in a scantily clad black dress; if one could even consider it as such. The scrap of cloth had hugged her slender form, leaving little imagination to any man who desired her. Even when we had gone out to the auction, she had been dressed accordingly, thus seeing her transformation had bothered me greatly. So much so that I had remained still, hidden from their view, and waited until they both had left to go party.

I could only account my shock to the fact she was young, and for some odd reason, this essential tidbit had escaped me each time I had seen her. Isobel was already beautiful, yet tonight, the word didn't suffice.

Once I arrived and entered the club, Benoît was there to greet me at the entrance, seeming out of place. "Go home. I'll take it from here." He tried to argue with my decision, but I was persistent for him to get some rest.

After he left, I immediately scanned the place as the music roared in my ears. For ten minutes, I scoured for them, however the place was too dark and the ever-changing, techni-colored laser lights made it harder to focus.

After another fifteen minutes, with still no sign of them, I was about to take my leave when something caught my eye. It was Elena. She was on the second floor, in the VIP section, dancing on top of the table... and Isobel was doing exactly the same thing.

I froze, watching her for a moment, when I felt all common sense leave my body before something else took precedence.

## 15

# Isobel

"Uh-oh. I think someone's in big trouble," Elena whispered into my ear, teasing.

The music was so loud I couldn't grasp what she was saying, but when she pointed behind me and I turned around to check what she was mumbling about, I was surprised to find Hugo looking like he was Death's messenger.

Frowning, I stared at him, hoping he hadn't come here to break up our party. Because if he had, well, I wouldn't like that very much.

Touching Elena's shoulder to get her attention, I mouthed and pointed my thumb towards her cousin's direction, expecting she'd get the hint that I was going over to say hi. She shooed me away, grinning teasingly before she focused her attention to her other friends—all of whom consisted of men, by the way; a tidbit she had forgotten to mention.

Weaving my way towards Hugo, past the white curtains and a few private parties, I exhaled an exasperated sigh when the man didn't even move a muscle to meet me halfway. He simply waited, brooding sexily while those hypnotizing eyes of his didn't miss a beat in following me. Then, once I reached him, he kept on his mask of cool indifference without saying a word.

_Hell, is everything okay?_

"Is there an emergency?" I asked, almost yelling at him.

When he kept ignoring me, my patience immediately deteriorated. "All right. Well it was odd seeing you here... but I have to get back to my party. Hope you have a blast playing mannequin." I was being sarcastic, however I couldn't help it. He was being insufferable.

"Outside," he bit out. "We need to talk."

"Good to know your tongue is still intact." I folded my arms underneath my breasts, readying to fight back. As far as I was concerned, I hadn't done anything wrong. Thus, for him to come here acting like a complete arse was completely unjustified.

Strutting away, he didn't look back to see if I was trailing behind him. He merely kept on striding ahead. The more he acted like a pompous dick, the more colorful my anger became—from warm to dark, to all shades of red.

Passing the entrance, I wasn't really surprised the people who worked here knew him, and they all chimed respectively as he passed them by, bidding him well for the night. He probably was a patron, notorious for his lavish lifestyle and bountiful supply of temporary girlfriends.

The fresh air hitting my warm skin did nothing to soothe my mood. Apparently, he had parked his car a few doors down, and when his Bugatti Veyron came into view, he immediately unlocked it, showing no mercy.

"Get in the car," he commanded in a tone I shouldn't question. Well, he was out of luck tonight because I wasn't in the mood to be bossed around like a brainless bimbo.

"No."

Oooh, the "no" truly got to him.

_"Merde! Get in the bloody car, Isobel!"_ He looked murderous yet sexy with his five o'clock shadow and dark, mysterious eyes.

Although, as gorgeous as I found him, it wasn't enough incentive for him to order me about.

"Which part of no, don't you understand?" I was tipsy—buzzed—not an idiot. I wanted to infuriate him more, for some odd reason. Maybe it was the way he was reacting—or overreacting—which was just so unusual. Call it curiosity or whatever, but I yearned to see more fire in him. I wanted to stoke his temper until he cracked and burst into flames. "What's the problem, Hugo Xavier?" I mocked him further. "Are you the man or the mannequin?"

"My problem is _you_ , Isobel," he finally said after a full minute.

Of all the things I had expected to hear him say, that was something I hadn't seen coming.

He rounded the car, bearing the same expression on his face, before he stood before me, looking far and beyond disappointed.

"I expected more from you. And seeing how you loved the attention of the men ogling what was underneath your skirt..." he paused, nose flaring as he gave me a cutting look, "I didn't see you as a flirty devil may care kind of slut."

My rose tinted lips hung ajar, shocked from his verbal accusations. "I beg your pardon?" I shook my head in disbelief, uncertain if I should strangle him or kick him to the curb. "How dare you! How. Bloody. Dare. You!"

"I fucking _dare_ because you're mine!" he growled loudly, uncaring if there was an audience about, willing to eavesdrop. "For the next twenty three weeks, you are solely mine and mine alone! And I don't appreciate you flaunting and flirting what is rightfully mine." He punctuated each word as if it was the law.

_Hold on,_ I thought as I blinked rapidly, hoping I was hallucinating his word vomit.

"Tell me that you're drunk and needed a good laugh. Because the rubbish that's coming out of your twisted mouth is rather nauseating."

A dry laugh came out of him, looking less amused. "How about _you_ tell me that you're drunk, which is why you danced on the table like you worked for a strip club."

If I could produce steam, it would've come out of my ears already. The bastard had just crossed the proverbial line. So I slapped him. _Hard._ The stinging hot impact of my palm smacking against his cheek wasn't satisfying enough, though.

"First off, this _is_ temporary. I signed to be your plaything, but under no circumstances did it state that I'm to be your property," I grated out with my finger pressing against his chest. "I have my own mind; it's _my_ right to do whatever I want to do. I don't care about what you think. In fact, go ahead and think of me as a slut. I don't bloody care! To hell with your barbaric mentally—"

I was in the middle of my overture when the bastard kissed me like I was his possession.

I was royally mad yet wickedly aroused. Dear God, the bastard could kiss. He kissed me in a way that felt like all my thoughts and all the mechanics of my brain had melted away, and all I could fathom was his lips and how he made me feel.

Then, out of nowhere, I felt something vibrate.

It was his phone.

Snapping out of my entranced funk, I yanked my lips away from him before I gasped for air, finding it hard to believe what had just occurred between us. "What the— _you fucking kissed me!_ " I hissed at him accusingly, beyond mortified.

"What? It's not in the _contract,_ too?"

My heart was galloping madly against my chest, and as much as I wanted to hate him, I couldn't deny the fact I had responded to his kiss. However, I couldn't let it happen again.

Breathing raggedly, I felt the shame and horror of what had happened. The situation between us was getting out of hand. We were supposed to be indifferent to each other. This odd, zinging connection shouldn't be toyed with; it was too dangerous. Besides, too much was at risk, and I couldn't lose the only person that had kept me going all this time. Fancying Hugo wasn't part of the equation.

"You—you shouldn't do that."

He seemed unperturbed as he cupped my face and stared into me. "I don't care," he fiercely murmured. "So sue me."

I nervously panted, feeling out of my depth. Words of protest formed into mind, but he managed to hijack my thoughts for the second time the moment he connected his lips with mine once more. This time, he devoured me like a meal, consuming me whole.

His kiss was rough, yet it held sweetness. It was as hard as it was passionate. It was as much fire as it was ice. It drowned me as it floated me into thin air. The world spun, and in that instant, I felt everything. He made me feel everything, vibrating it through my veins, all over my body.

He paused with our lips pressing against each other. "Isobel..." he groaned out, sounding pained.

With my eyes closed, I felt at the tip of surrender, but there was still a little fight in me. "What are you doing?"

"I've tried to stop, but I'm done fighting it," he confessed with ferocity, with passion. "I want you," he vehemently promised. " _All of you_."

Dammit. I was at a loss for words because it felt like he was making a declaration to a lover, not to a woman he barely knew.

"Hugo—" I tried to argue, but he immediately placed a finger on my lips to stop me.

"Two weeks." He was reminding me of what I had promised him earlier this afternoon. "You have two weeks to think about it."

I was at a war with myself. Mind and body fighting at both ends. I was beyond conflicted, staggering between the one I lusted after and the one I loved.

"Do you trust me?"

I didn't require thinking about my answer. "Yes." I nodded, whispering, "I trust you."

"Then spend the night with me."

Okay, I needed to slow down—to think for a second. Besides, I hadn't come here alone.

"What about Elena? She's probably wondering where I am."

My excuses went unnoticed. "She's with her friends. She'll be fine," he persisted, unwilling to allow anything to stop him from accomplishing his goal.

"Okay." I nodded, hating myself for allowing this route to progress, though I somehow felt compelled to.

He was breaking the rules, but how far would he go to get what he wanted?

## 16

# Isobel

During the drive back to his villa, we both kept to ourselves. From time to time, I'd see him through my peripheral vision, giving me lingering glances.

My mind ran amuck.

Because, if the encounter we'd had earlier was simply part of the deal we'd agreed upon, it would've been fine. However, it sure as hell didn't feel like it was. The business arrangement was no more and where we were at the moment was at a standstill. We had reached a stalemate.

_I'm done fighting it._ His words dug deep into my heart, but I wasn't done fighting this—whatever this _thing_ was we had. His admission should be enough to tell me how complicated this was going to get. Moreover, as much as I wanted to deny him, there was a piece of me yearning to know him. We were always at odds, and apart from the physical attraction, we had nothing else going on. Yet here we were, pondering. Contemplating.

I had never been in this situation where I despised someone while my heart would thump ever so loudly when he was near. Was this what they called love-hate? Craving someone you didn't even like? Or was that lunacy?

The thought of what might happen tonight terrified me, although I couldn't seem to stop myself. There was simply something about him. Maybe it was the air of mystery he had around him, or the way he looked at me. I mean, _really_ looked at me like I was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. Or maybe because he'd been teasing me from the start, building this need, _this palpable tension_ from the ground up until I was pouring out desperation and curiosity.

What did I really know? Hugo was the kind of man who always got what he wished for, and he had admitted he wanted me.

_All_ of me.

When he had declared that earlier, whatever decisions I hadn't been sure about before had all gone down the drain. The answer had dawned on me, causing me to feel helpless from not being able to stop this wild ride I was embarking on with Hugo Xavier, playboy extraordinaire. This was it. After tonight, I would have to own up to my mistakes.

Taking a peek at his profile, I knew there was no way out of this without getting hurt, one way or the other. Undeterred, I rested my head against the headrest and continued watching him as he drove... breathed... lived.

"Why can't I resist you?" I finally whispered, breaking his concentration.

He made an arresting smile. "Think, long and hard," he said, giving me a quick glance. "Three years ago. London, winter of 2011."

I frowned, confused about what he'd just said. London? In 2011?

"What are you talking about?"

"The first time we met."

"I've never met you until I went into that office in The Riviera." It couldn't be. I had perpetually been busy with Damen. I had wondered if there was something truly familiar about Hugo, but I hadn't been able to come up with anything.

"If you say so," he easily dismissed his claim, making me a little mad.

I made a strangled, groaning sound. "Dammit, Hugo. Now's not the time to mess with my mind."

Releasing a breath, he concentrated on the road before he responded to me. "I didn't remember, actually, until a few days ago. There was something familiar about you, yet I couldn't seem to grasp where and how it came about."

_2011..._ I pondered as the villa came into view. I continued trying to recall, but nothing came to light. Frustrated, I didn't ask him again until we were parked and out of the car.

"You know I won't stop asking until you tell me the truth," I said as I watched him close my door.

He leaned me against the Bugatti, trapping me with his body as both of his hands situated against the top of the car, giving me only a small amount of breathing space. "If you don't remember, then I don't see the point of it."

"You aren't being fair."

The back of his knuckles softly brushed against my jaw as he stared at my lips. "With you, I am being more than fair. My appetites are ravenous, but I've sacrificed my pleasures to pursue you."

Sacrificed? What did he mean by that?

"You could take me, but you always seem hesitant."

"I could," he breezily said without hesitation. "But I don't want to steal that, ma belle. I want you to give it to me, _willingly_. No contract or obligations, but free will."

This truly made sense, and at the same time, it was troubling because he wanted so much more from me.

"What if you're unable to make me give it to you, _willingly_? What then?"

"I'm man enough to know when to admit defeat," he murmured before teasing his lip against my ear. "But you must know I won't give up until I know there's no hope for me."

"You seem very determined," I quietly observed, admiring his perseverance a little.

No man had made it a mission to pursue me like this. I wouldn't lie, either; I felt special. Though I should know better than to feel that, especially since the man was known for being a playboy. Yet here I was, letting his words affect me.

"Meet me on the shore, at the bottom of the stairs in five minutes." His kiss on my nose made me blush like I was on my first date. "Stay there and don't even think of going anywhere else."

Oh my, what did he have planned?

"Okay." I felt shy and virginal all of a sudden, which was truly ridiculous because I was far from one.

His eyes glimmered before striding into the villa, while I, on the other hand, took the route towards the garden where the stairs going to the beach were located.

I didn't take off my shoes until I reached the stairs. One by one, I pulled off my strappy heels and sighed with pleasurable relief when my soles were greeted by the cold cement. Before descending, I stared ahead at the dark sea with the moon appearing to be big and yellow on the horizon. Stars usually littered above, but tonight, the moon was the sole provider of light.

I took my time going all the way to the bottom, smiling when my feet touched the sand. The waves rolled with a soft hush and the air was still.

"You're smiling."

Swiftly spinning around to face him, I felt my cheeks burn at the sight of him. Except for the trousers, he was gloriously and deliciously bare. My eyes devoured him, itching to trace his wonderfully chiseled chest.

"I didn't hear you come."

"It's one of my many gifts," he teased.

_I wonder what other gifts he has,_ I thought cheekily. He was playful and charming and quite irresistible. No sane woman could go unaffected, myself included.

"Come sit with me and help me enjoy this vintage champagne." He lifted his left hand that held the bottle in a silver wine cooler before he chose a spot to sit.

Strolling towards him, I tried to sit with my small dress as graciously as it allowed, showing more thigh as it rode up almost to my butt.

"That dress is criminal on you." His eyes scrutinized every inch of my body.

It was merely a piece of cloth; however, the power it exuded was limitless.

"Is that why you acted like a complete arse earlier?"

He shrugged, looking away as he took a bottle opener that had been stabbed in the ice from the bucket.

Peeling off the top seal of the bottle, he gave me a knowing look. "I desire you," he professed for the second time tonight. "I don't share, nor do I want other men to see what's intended for my eyes only."

My throat ran dry. If the possessiveness in his tone didn't bother me a little, I would've appreciated the poetic tone of his words.

"You're quite a possessive man. How do women tolerate you?"

"You'll know soon enough," he murmured as I looked away.

The cork popped from the bottle before the white foam oozed out of it. He then handed me the bottle. "Ladies first."

I smirked at his random show of being less chic and grand before taking a swig.

"Drinking champagne from the bottle," I observed with a hint of teasing, handing him the bottle. "Are you sure you won't be booted out of Monaco's elite circle?"

"My lifestyle's answer enough to tell you I don't follow the rules. I bend them however I see fit." He toasted the bottle before me. "Cheers to you and your irresistible beauty. May you bless me with thee."

I barked out a laugh. "You're mad."

"What can I say? A woman who's beautiful, catty, sharp with eyes so blue they sometimes turn purple, who's also unafraid to speak her mind and constantly likes to push my limits is a true weakness of mine."

That was me, summed into a paragraph.

Feeling as if the mood had shifted to something more, I opted to change the subject, delaying the inevitable. "Since you're being honest tonight, mind telling me about London, 2011?"

"I'd rather you figure that mystery out all by yourself."

Well, I wasn't giving up just yet. I'd try again tomorrow.

"I'll eventually drag it out of you."

"We shall see."

"We shall." I took the bottle from him because it was my turn to drink. Staring at my toes digging into the cool sand, I took a sip, wondering loudly, "Where did Chantel and Sherry go? I mean, I know you said they went to travel somewhere because of your aunt, but where is that _exactly_?"

"Sherry actually ended up going to Bali. Chantel chose the Caribbean. The penthouse was too confiding for them." Hugo shifted himself. Instead of facing the sea, he chose to face my profile. "When they arrive in two weeks time, I'm letting them both go."

The pin dropped. Instantly, I snapped my neck to gaze at him, horrified. "What are you trying to say?" I asked, aghast, hoping he'd say something that made sense because he'd been revealing far more than I was prepared for.

"I want you," he stated without hesitation. "So in my plan of pursuit, I'm going on abstinence until you're ready for me." He was absolutely cavalier about it.

Huh. Well, he was in for a long haul. Kissing was one thing, sex was a whole other complicated matter entirely—one I wasn't ready to share with anyone other than Damen. Hugo simply was stuck at believing he could attain whatever he wanted because women probably had the trouble of saying no to his wishes. His desire for me could also be used as a weapon; if I manipulated it right, it could be my leverage.

"Really? And when was the last time you went without sex?" There was no doubt the man didn't go without. From what I had seen in the library that one afternoon, he was as insatiable and hot blooded as they came.

He made a smirk, lighting his face up while his eyes danced with amusement. "Never."

"You won't survive it." Exactly. He wouldn't last a day. "Why even put yourself in that predicament?"

"Because you'll be worth it," he said in a casual manner, as if it was already a given.

"Hmmm... you shouldn't be too confident about that because I'm going to crush that little hope you're challenging yourself in attaining. Besides, even if you proved me wrong, I'm not really skilled in that department, so you're going to be sorely disappointed."

He was changing the game—the agreement—and it was startling how quickly the tide was shifting between us. He was moving fast with no signs of slowing down.

"I've never been denied of anything until you came along. I'm more than willing to put a pause to my sexual endeavors to pursue a much more satisfying one." His finger caressed the base of my neck, trailing it along my shoulder blade, all the way down to my fingertips before hooking his forefinger with my own. "You're trying to make me change my mind, and I'm telling you now, that's very much unlikely."

How did I counter that? Not only was I having an inner battle with myself, but I was also getting less and less confident my mind and reason would be enough to fight against my body's urges. Damen was in my heart; however, he also wasn't here and wouldn't be in my life for the next months to come.

"Fancy a quick swim?" he broke into my thoughts, looking mighty wicked before adding, "Naked." He then stood up before me, offering his hand.

His hand was strong, big and masculine, and the thought of having those hands all over me didn't help with my struggle. "You're not subtle in your intentions, are you?"

"I have indecent motives, true, but I won't touch you until you grant me the permission to," he swore just as I raised my brow, doubting him, before he made a dashing, panty-dropping smile. "I give you my word."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

## 17

# Hugo

Just as I was about to pull my pants down, Isobel started to have second thoughts, rattled at the notion of going au naturel.

"What if there's a speed boat passing through? What then?"

"Then they see us naked. Who cares?" Her shyness was something I wasn't used to from women. It was refreshing to see. "Live a little. Consider this a hiatus from your regular life; a free pass to indulge in things you usually wouldn't consider." Also the fact I was a selfish man who loved to torture himself by staring at her body like a true pervert, imagining what it would be like to sheath myself inside her moist tunnel.

"Be reckless, you mean? But that's just not me—"

She tried to argue, but I cut her off, proving it with an example. "Signing that contract wasn't like you either, but you did it anyway." It was fate when she'd happened to be the daughter of the man who just so happened to owe the casino money.

Isobel shook her head, adamant about making a point. "That's different."

"Not entirely. What you did was risky. I could've been a man who gets pleasures from hurting women, or a man with serial killer capabilities, yet you took a chance, trusting I would take care of you."

"I didn't really have that much choice... My father isn't an easy man to deal with," she insisted with vehemence before chugging another gulp from the bottle.

"We always have a choice, Isobel." She needed to know that in case her father kept using her to pay off his gambling habit. "Whether it's right or wrong, _you_ always have an option."

She broke into a beaming smile, looking up at me with pure sincerity.

"Thank you for taking a chance with me. I know it's odd to be thanking you, but now that you've revealed that you won't do anything until I allow you to... well, not a lot of men would be that noble." Pressing her lips together, she whispered another gratitude, "So, thank you."

"I did tell you I have a weakness for beautiful, catty, sharp women, with eyes so blue they sometimes turned purple, who's also unafraid to speak her mind and constantly likes to push my limits."

Her smile was pure beauty. I wished she'd do so more often. I'd give her whatever she wanted when she looked at me that way—serene and impressionable.

The catty and feisty attitude turned me on like a raging lunatic, yet this, too, had the power to drive my lust to epic proportions. One way or the other, I wanted her with a passion. Like a flip of a switch, so did my objective.

"You know, you could further thank me by swimming with me."

Rolling her eyes, she feigned an exasperated sigh. "All right, but I'm leaving my underwear on." She sharpened her eyes at me, as if in warning of some sort.

I'll take whatever she'd throw at me.

"Whatever you feel comfortable in." I was a rabid dog with an unfathomable hunger that only burned for one particular person. It was as if my nature and my senses came together when with her.

Pulling the zipper down on the side of her chest, she eyed me warily. "It's weird that I feel shy doing this even though you've seen me naked before."

I hadn't realized I was holding my breath, awaiting the striptease, but her hesitation made me concede to giving her a little space. Emphasis on little. "I'll pretend like I'm a gentleman and go in first."

Walking into the water until it was around my hips, I dove into the dark sea before I came up for air and swam farther out. The water was cool, a refreshing change for my heated body. The summer heat was crucial earlier today, and in those times, a dip in the sea was mandatory.

Taking a gulping breath, I spun around towards the beach as I pedaled to stay afloat. The beach was empty. Where had she gone?

"Isobel?" I called out, keeping still as I tried to adjust my eyesight. I was about a little over a kilometer out in the sea; therefore, my vision wasn't as clear as I'd hoped. _"Isobel!"_ I bellowed again, but this time, I heard a small reply.

"I'm right over here." Her voice was a great distance away. "Where are you?"

Scouring the dark sea as I swam with slight, silvery rays of the moon to lighten my sight, there was still a vast area that was shaded, and I desperately needed to make sure of where she was.

"Stay where you are and keep talk—"

She made a startling yelp, almost stopping my heart. "Oh, fuck! _Something touched my leg!_ " She made an alarming screech. _"Hugo, something's out there!"_

"Don't move." I swam towards her, following the echo of her voice. "I'm coming."

"Hugo, please hurry!" she screamed, but this time with pure terror. "I just saw a fin! _Oh my God, I saw a bloody fin!_ I'm going to die. _I'm going to die!_ " She kept chanting that she was dying.

Her alarmed voice sent a chill all over my body, making me feel truly frightened for the first time in over a decade. The small splashes of water done by her panicky arms made me halt for a second as I noticed the dorsal fin slicing briskly about her before it disappeared again.

Then _,_ I barked out a laugh as I reached for her, wrapping my arms around her as I held her close. "Relax. It's only a dolphin." I kissed her forehead as relief spread all over me. "The Rissos dolphin feeds at night, and they have a long dorsal fin, so I guess it's easy to assume it's a shark circling about you for its next meal."

"That's not funny. I truly, really was frightened." She sobbed, a little frazzled.

_Pauvre bébé_. (Poor baby.) She looked so scared she had tears in her eyes. Wiping them away, I kissed her nose while trying to reassure her. "Even if it were a shark, you can't blame it for wanting to have a taste; you're quite a delectable treat," I teased, watching as the fright slowly ebbed away from her eyes.

She lightly tapped my chest before resting her head against it. "I almost had a heart attack. Be nice." Then she pulled her head back, taking a peek at me. "Since when did you know so much about dolphins anyway?"

"I swim a lot at night during the summer months."

"This is actually nice," she murmured, as she unknowingly sought for more warmth from my chest. "But do you mind if we're closer to the shore? I don't like being all the way out here in the open. It's like baiting ourselves to be eaten alive for the next hungry predator that happens to be nearby."

"I'm a predator, and I'm famished." Her breasts were squished against me, and it was getting increasingly difficult to resist her by the second.

"In a different circumstance, I would've quivered, but now's not the time to put the moves on me." She swam away, heading towards the beach while I followed closely behind, needing to draw more of this drug from her.

Once she felt safe from the "predators," as she'd put it, she tilted her head back, staring into the sky above, while my eyes centered on the two creamy orbs before me.

"So... I make you quiver," I asked, wanting to delve more into that detail. "Tell me more about it."

"You don't let up, do you?"

"Your admission just took me by surprise."

Her long hair floated around her while her breasts thrust forward. She reminded me of a siren. _La belle sirène_.

She made a dry laugh. "Why should it? I mean, come on, you know you're sexy and shit."

"Sexy and shit," I mused at her choice of words.

"You're beautiful and shit—" She then bit her lip, as if she didn't mean for the words to come out, while her cheeks blushed profusely. Her eyes dropped to my lips, concentrating on them.

"Take a chance," I said huskily, hoping she'd follow her urges. "Touch me. _Kiss me_." I moved closer, just enough to feel the slightest touch of her nipples against my chest. The contact made me delirious. _"I dare you."_

Her breathing turned shallow as she moved her lips a hairsbreadth from my own hungry ones. If she kissed me once, she was done. I wouldn't stop until we both released some of this tension, one way or another.

In a second, my wish came true, ending my beautiful torment. I gave her a minute—one torturous minute of reeling in the animal that had been unleashed by a mere kiss from her—before I took charge.

Since we were close to shore, I lifted her body to wrap it around mine without breaking our lips apart from their fevered kisses. From there, I carried her to where we'd left the bottle, right next to the bucket, before I splayed her on the sand. Hovering above her, I sought eye contact, needing to see her. In her luminous, dilated depths came reassurance that she _did_ trust me.

"Close your eyes and keep them shut, _mon amant_." She did as I asked, and for a moment, I let my eyes worship her, _savor her_. She was ready for whatever I had planned for her, however I had made a promise, and as much as it pained me to harness my hunger, I had to pass this test to fully earn her trust.

Reaching inside the wine cooler, I captured a cube before I softly brushed it against her aroused nipple. The sheer, cooling contact made her gasp.

"Do you like ice, Isobel?" I croaked out, feeling helpless when my cock became too painful to bear. Still, I kept on with the sweet torment. The ice was melting, therefore I let the drip trickle on her stomach as she started to shift and moan.

Her legs were parted, and I couldn't help myself from reaching to touch her there. Pushing her thong aside, I slightly rubbed her with my thumb. "May I taste you, mon amant?"

She was breathing erratically as she made a hesitant nod. It was all I needed to bunch up the thong in my hand before wrenching it off her. The sudden move made her gasp, although before she could protest, I inserted the ice cube inside her pussy, driving her into a little tizzy.

"Savor the sensation, ma belle. Don't stop until you come in my mouth."

Parting her legs wider, I situated my head between her legs before softly blowing air along her slit. The ice was melting inside her, and the melted water slowly dripped out of her entrance. Using the tip of my tongue, I flicked it back forth, letting the water soak onto my tongue before I swallowed and tasted her. I let out a grunting sound then let my mouth delve into her folds, relishing every bit of her relentlessly... harshly.

"Hugo— _God!_ " she shrieked before both of her hands grasped the back of my head and used it to gyrate on my mouth, making her scream in pleasure.

## 18

# Isobel

"Is this what you do all day; stare into oblivion?" Julee interrupted my shortened reverie.

I wasn't technically staring into oblivion as she'd spitefully put it. I was merely thinking about what had occurred last night with Hugo.

After I had embarrassingly come for the umpteenth time, I had been too out of it to use any strength to function, let alone walk. Consequently, he had carried me in his arms and brought me to my room where he'd run a bath for both of us and washed me. I had never felt like I was being taken care of that way. It was sweet and something out of the ordinary, especially coming from a man like Hugo. Nevertheless, I had lavished in it, falling in and out of sleep in the nook of his neck and chest. I didn't even remember getting into bed with him. However, when I had woken up this morning, I'd noticed the indent on the other pillow.

"I'm throwing an event at The Riviera. A task that was done by my sister, Celeste, but after she passed, I carried on the project," she informed me, even though I couldn't care less what she was talking about. The woman was purely horrid.

Not getting the clue she was unwanted, she kept on pestering me. "If you're not doing much else, you could be of help."

Oh, she was asking for my help when a little less than twenty four hours ago she had accused me of being an ill-mannered gold digger? Seriously. How about not?

"I'll think about it, Julee. I have a lot going on at the moment," I responded with a subtle tinge of sarcasm, since it was quite obvious to anyone around here I practically didn't do much until Hugo bossed me about.

Julee gave me a scathing look, eyeing me up and down as if I was a cockroach she wanted to squash with her heel, before she lifted her snobbish chin and harried away.

Shaking my head, I was about to get up to go to the kitchen in search for some sweets when my phone rang on the table.

"Hello?"

"Ça va, ma belle?" (How are you, my beautiful?) His sexy, French voice filtered through the phone, making me feel all sorts of arousal.

Stifling my weird reaction to his raspy bedroom voice, I focused on his question. "I'm doing well. And you? I didn't realize you'd slept with me last night until this morning."

He made a deep laugh, causing me to react all the more. Damn this overheated body. Last night was intense, but I didn't expect myself to go haywire each time he called me, too. I mean, it was bad enough when he was around me.

"Does it bother you that I shared your bed?"

Well...yes, it did. But instead of saying that, I ended up telling him something else, "I don't know. I was asleep." The image of him holding me close kept appearing in my mind, and each time it did, I'd get these butterflies in my stomach.

"I didn't intend to, but when you asked me not to go, I couldn't resist the invitation, either."

What? I had asked him to stay? How come I couldn't remember it? I mean, I remember falling asleep on his chest in the bathtub while he was washing me, but that was where my memory stopped.

"Oh... Well, I don't remember that part."

Hugo made a toe-curling laugh. "I'd love to do more of that every night if you like. I love how you taste on my tongue, ma belle."

Flashbacks of the beach and him in between my legs—the carnal images of us—left me panting, _breathless_.

"We're invited to go to a yacht party tonight. I'll be home at five, and we can leave around six. Is that good enough time for you to get ready?"

"Yes, it should be enough."

"You're all I thought about today, and I can't wait to see you again tonight," he said, sounding like he truly meant it. "Dress for me tonight, Isobel." It was the last thing he said before he hung up, leaving me wondering what had just taken place in that conversation.

Dress for him? Damen had never asked me that before. How did one dress for a man? I had no clue how to perceive his request. I wasn't sure if he meant not wearing underwear or dress like a slut, though maybe the latter. He did go berserk with that small dress I wore last night. I think it even drove him over to the edge.

He was the _mine_ kind of guy. Possessive and extremely demanding and, not to mention, dominating. The kind of man I had told myself I wasn't attracted to, and yet, here I was, undeniably attracted to the man who was the epitome of it. I was a hypocrite. No, scratch that—I was a confused hypocrite. Because, as much as I told myself not to give in an inch, there was something about him I couldn't resist, either.

Take a chance.

Touch me.

Kiss me.

_I dare you._

I had dared to kiss him. Every inch of me had sung, had been alive, when I pressed my lips against his. It was like a magnet, I couldn't help being drawn to him, even if I was protesting, kicking and screaming all the way. I still ended up in his arms. God help me because, when he was doing all those things to me and my body, all I could think about was him. It was beyond troubling, to say the least, that the man I loved didn't enter my conscience whatsoever.

"How did it go with Hugo last night?" Elena sprung out of nowhere, joining me on the outdoor patio before pulling the chair across from me and sitting comfortably. "I've never seen him that angry with any of his girlfriends before."

Smiling at her, I shook my head in denial. "You're being silly." If she only knew what had gone on between Hugo and I last night... I still couldn't fathom how easily tempted and persuaded I had been to let him have a meal of me out in the open. I hadn't been able to stop him because he had been weaving magic through my veins, and I was still feverish from it. The aftereffects of being served a healthy dose of Hugo Xavier- _ism_.

"Men can't take it when their women are hot and naughty."

I wasn't Hugo's woman, but Elena didn't know that.

"He was just being weird."

"Weird? Or maybe he really likes you," she pressed on with colorful exaggeration. "Or maybe you're the one for him. I mean, he looked angry and devastated at the same time. Poor cousin, if I wasn't so shocked about his reaction, I might've laughed and teased him about it, but that would've been cruel."

"The one? Uhhh, no." I stared back at her, beyond stunned. "We're just having fun, and come on, have you forgotten this is your _cousin_ we're talking about here? The great Hugo Xavier."

"I'm telling you, you're different. So even if you believe it or not, just be prepared. 'Cause my cousin has his own way of handling things. Be careful, though, because once you mess up, he'll leave you, and you wouldn't even know it until it's too late."

Well, that was a lot to wrap my mind around. Nevertheless, whatever happened between Hugo and I, I was still walking out when the contract was up.

## 19

# Isobel

Searching for the perfect dress wasn't a problem, nor was getting ready or figuring out the best way to do my hair that would complement my dress. My problem was _me._ Because, the entire time I was getting ready, I could hear Hugo's voice saying, "Dress for me tonight, Isobel." And I was the idiot who chose something that I knew would please the blasted man. So, yes, I was worried because I couldn't even help myself. If I was spiraling slowly, how long would it take until Hugo fully succeeded with his mission? This was day two with twelve more days to go. Could it be possible that I had bitten off more than I could chew?

Aside from my questionable emotional and mental state where Hugo was concerned, the dress I chose to wear for the yacht party tonight wasn't overkill. Though, it was definitely a dress one would end up truly being ravished by her lover in by the end of the evening.

It was champagne colored with Swarovski crystals sewn into the dress. The thin straps on my shoulders went all the way down mid-back and crisscrossed to the base. The top fit me like a second skin while the bottom was cut short but gave enough room to wiggle about when dancing. It was provocative, alluring, and downright eye-catching. And I had never felt such feminine power until I saw myself in the mirror.

With my hair in a loose, messy chignon, golden neutral strokes of eye makeup, and gold, strappy Louboutins, I had to do a double take just to make sure the amazing transformation was actually me and not some odd-like dream because the woman staring back at me had serious sex bombshell written all over her. A playful smile broke from my lips as I admired my spanking new look.

"You look stunning, ma belle."

I jumped at the sound of his voice. I twisted my head around and spotted him leaning against the slightly parted doorframe. His dark eyes were enough to tell me that he approved of my outfit.

And, hell, could he look any _more_ irresistible?

My eyes drank him in as the feeling in my gut became this hollow feeling while my heart constricted. His presence singularly disarmed me. His charisma was quite lethal. His gorgeous appeal was deadly to my hormones.

He wore a black bowtie with his black, formal outfit. His wet hair was coarsely brushed to the back, evoking that rugged, devil-may-care sex appeal.

"Aren't you going to come here and say hi?" My question surprised me more than it did him because his lazy smile which oozed _hot sex and danger_ was in place as he strode towards me.

Once he reached me in the middle of the room, he stepped into my comfort zone, lifting my chin towards him, eyes wild and beautiful. "I was going to say hi, but I needed a moment to appreciate you from afar."

Seriously, he was giving me a massive dose of you-make-me-so-hot-I-want-to-drink-you-in-one-gulp. It was predatory, and it made me aware of him in all of the wrong yet _right_ tingling places.

"What?" I mumbled with my heart pitter-pattering madly against my chest. I felt faint just to have him near me.

"Bonjour, Isobel." He said in such a way it sounded more of a caress to my senses. He was inducing a response from me that I had not an utter clue as to where and how it had come about. I felt hypnotized, enthralled by this very man himself. "What's wrong, ma belle?" He raised his brow when my mouth parted a little but no sound came out.

Why? Because I had been bloody rendered speechless. Not only did he look mighty delicious, but he seemed to have taken over me. My skin prickled from awareness of him. It's _him_. Everywhere. Around. Me. It was perplexing and frustrating, yet my senses were beyond captivated by his powerful magnetism.

"Hugo..." I whispered, flushing when I realized that I sounded more aroused than I had ever heard myself in my entire existence.

He stepped closer, our lips almost touching, his eyes holding mine, seeming like he was waiting for something.

"You _feel_ it now. This is why I can't resist you, ma belle." His eyes flickered back and forth before he engulfed me with his passion through his perfervid kiss.

I was putty in his hands. However, my mind raced, wondering how in the world he could influence me so. Even Damen, though we had such a loving relationship, didn't bring out this side of me. That's why I'd had no idea it existed. It felt forbidden, but I wanted more of it. What did that make me?

"There." He eyed me after he parted from my swollen lips. "You look branded as mine now."

Fuck. I better snap out of this trance before I dug myself so deep in the shithole I wouldn't be able to manage to get out of it when time came for me to pack my belongings and go back to my old life.

_This_ was temporary, best not to let my mind forget that rather essential detail.

The night started glamorous and lavish as expected. It wasn't as if I wasn't at all aware of how this sort of lifestyle went about, but normally, I was the outsider. Tonight, I was a part of it, and it was truly different from what I had expected. With Hugo at my side, I felt a different kind of rush when women gave those hateful, vying looks directed towards me. I certainly wasn't used to it.

Hugo gently placed a hand on the side of my hips and pulled me close to whisper in my ear while my eyes wandered about, basking in the beauty and the over-abundance of style and beautiful people onboard. "We've been invited by Jacques. You met him at the gala. This yacht is owned by one of his best friends who's going to be racing with him tomorrow. His name is—"

"Luca de Medici," I finished the sentence as I spotted the rogue playboy from afar, talking to his friends, appealingly in good spirits.

"Oh. _You know him?_ " He sounded pretty surprised.

"No, I don't know him personally, but I know _of_ him." I paused, my gaze taking in the man in question with one appreciative glance. "Everyone does." Who wouldn't notice those emerald green eyes, the scruff, and the smile that meant to drill holes in your underwear? And goodness, the tabloids did no justice when you saw the enigmatic man in real life.

Hugo's fingers dug into the fabric of my dress and right into my sensitive skin. "Is it really necessary to stare at him while I'm right next to you?" he furiously hissed. "Save me some pride, Isobel. Have some decorum."

I frowned. "Are you being serious?" I gave him a disbelieving glare before it totally sunk in that he meant each word. " _Oh,_ you totally are." His handsome face merely darkened at my close scrutiny. "I don't get you and your jealous streak. It baffles me," I said out loud without thought. His expression didn't look pleased. In fact, it looked downright murderous.

"How about we save this conversation for a later date? I truly don't want to spend the rest of my night pondering such a question."

My, why was he acting odd? Could it be that the magnificent Hugo Xavier felt a pinch of envy because I was fawning over Luca de Medici? That surely tickled my fancy.

"Well, shouldn't we say hi? You still need to introduce me. This is just so exciting."

"Really, Isobel." The slashing look he gave me made my smile even wider.

Pretending to look exasperated, I thought of teasing him a little. "Oh, calm your arse down. Would it make you feel better if I told you that I think you're sexier than him?" A playful smile tugged at my lips.

"I might, _if_ you meant it." He definitely hadn't bought it.

"Well..." I trailed off, "let me think about that."

Seeing him reacting this way was making me all sorts of wicked. A man with his looks and power could do as he pleased, but here he was, acting like a cute, handsome fool for _me_.

"Witch," he muttered under his breath before he unceremoniously cupped his hands on the sides of my head and kissed me right in the middle of the party. It wasn't one of those hasty kisses which seem sweet and gentle. This one meant ownership, making it known to the rest of the people around that we were here together and couldn't get enough of one another. Because, yes, I couldn't get enough of his drugging kisses. Because, yes, I was guilty of taking pleasure in letting the rest of the women here know he was with me.

He drove me crazy. He drove me to the point of madness. Yet, with one kiss from him, everything went blurry.

The kiss went on and on. Just when I thought this couldn't possibly keep on like we were some lovesick fools right in the middle of the yacht, Hugo broke the drugging spell himself, eyeing me like he'd want me for a meal right this instant.

He wiped the traces of my lipstick off his lips with a quick swipe of his thumb. "Don't move a muscle. My cock is hard, and unless you want the people of Monaco to know what you do to me, you'd better stay put." He gave me his notorious, teasing grin.

"Was that really necessary?" I gave him a mock scathing look because I couldn't very well hide the damn fact that his hardened length had excited me quite a bit. In fact, the very thought of it had already gotten me bothered, wet, and heady.

"I believe so. You needed a good reminder of where your desires should be aimed." He cocked his head to the side before thrusting his hips a little towards my navel, making me shiver like a bitch in heat. "Now look at you. You look thoroughly kissed by your dashing man."

He was being so possessively cunning that I couldn't help smiling at his persistence. "You're truly insane."

"Amongst other things." He winked at me before we stayed awhile in our tight-knit positions, waiting for his rock hard beckoning to subside.

Once the conundrum of his erection was put to rest—indefinitely—he brought me towards Jacques and the rest of the people who surrounded Luca.

"You're hurting my eyes, Isobel." Jacques grinned at me as he gave me a thorough head to foot inspection.

"Lovely to see you again, Jacques." I beamed at him, just a tad struck at his gorgeousness. "Where're your friends Callum and Stella?" I observed that those two weren't here tonight.

"Those two might not be partying for good," he sort of yelled into my shoulder as the music started to beat a tad loudly for my delicate sense of hearing. "Stella's expecting their first born," he informed me with a look of pride in his eyes.

He was a great friend. Whomever would be truly happy for their friend, even though he'd just lost a good party buddy, was a great friend.

Glancing to my left side, I saw that Hugo was in a deep conversation with Julien when another man entered my small space.

"There's no fucking reception." The man sounded displeased as he shut the screen off his phone.

"Don't be so dramatic. Drink a little, wait it out. I'm sure it just needs a little break from you." Jacques playfully responded before giving me a wink. "This man used to be the wildest in our brotherhood." He tapped the guy on the shoulder to get his attention before he lifted his head and two vivid, piercing, bluer-than-blue eyes snapped onto my face, catching me off guard. "Dimitris Kosta."

Oh. _Bloody_. Fuck. I froze like the insipid ninny that I was again. " _You're_ him. _You're_ Blasphemous."

He looked so confused that he even gave Jacques a questioning look before he tried to laugh it off as if I wasn't the major weirdo onboard. "You've seen the film, then, I take it?"

"More than I care to admit," I said, a tad breathless as I gazed at him with full-on admiration. I was obscenely obsessed with the movies. I couldn't for the life of me fathom how such a lucky woman could choose between two men in her life. The passion the movie had ignited in me always left me wondering why Damen and I couldn't be as consumed as those lovers were in the movie.

Dimitris looked somewhat pleased. "That was my last film."

"I know." How sad that it was, but rumors were circulating that his family life was demanding so much more of him that he needed to cut his ties with the film industry or he'd lose his inheritance.

"So what did you think of it?"

Well... let's see.

## 20

# Isobel

"You're quite making your own rounds tonight, aren't you, my little minx?" Hugo crept up right behind me, whispering mockingly just as Luca announced that the high limit blackjack tables were open for players.

"Well, you know little ol' me," I responded as I quietly bid farewell to Dimitris Kosta. He was quite impassioned when it came to films. I was certain it wasn't just me who was saddened about his unfortunate departure. I mean, there were still a lot of hot, talented male actors around, but they sure as heck didn't have those bluer-than-blues that made a woman weak in the knees. The Greek in me simply took over and was quite proud that he was one of our beloved actors. The paparazzi even more so.

Dimitris Kosta was a favorite of the tabloids. Greece just simply couldn't get enough of him and his wealthy family. Women graced his arms left and right, but ever since he left the filming industry, the women had lessened. News still broke out about him, like him engaged to be married to that French woman named Claudine or something? There were rumors about him, too, being married to an American woman, but that it was annulled because she was too wild for him.

"You really need to learn how to mask your adoration," Hugo commented the moment he heard me sigh in awe because of the handsome Greek. "You won't fare well in gambling or with anything else in life that needs you to lie without blinking."

He had a point. Much more so when it came to how I'd deal with Damen once it was time for me to tell him the less sordid version of my little stint of being Hugo Xavier's plaything.

"You're right. I will keep a close observation to learn from the very best."

He smirked. "Keep this up, and I won't be held accountable if I spank you in the nearest room available."

_Damn._ _Double damn_ , I thought disturbingly when I realized that I was very much turned on by this. What was wrong with me? Since when did the thought of being bent over with my arse up in the air and being spanked hold appeal?

"You don't really behave, do you? Even in social functions, you'd still fuck me if I allowed you to." It was the first time I had uttered the word _fuck_ and _me_ in the same sentence, and my God, my body's reaction was amplified tenfold: blushing, goose bumps, and the works.

"Ma belle..." His already deep voice went down another notch, making me wantonly bite my bottom lip as he spoke into my delicate ear. "I don't just fuck. While I'm seated deeply in your delicious cunt, I'm ensnaring your soul, making love to your heart." My breathing hitched as he held me entranced with the images he was planting in my mind before adding more visualization, "I fuck ruthlessly...demandingly. But most of all, I'll fuck you until you gasp my name. Until you _breathe_ me in and let me conquer you like no other man ever did. _I take_ , Isobel," he said ominously. "I take with no intention of ever giving it back."

His arrogance was enlightening, alarming, arousing...

"What if I don't...I don't want to give any of that to you. What then?" Though I had meant to challenge him, I was disconcerted with the thought of him doing as he had so explicitly described. It simply made me want to give in just to test his assumptions. Surely someone had to put his arrogance into place? Well, I could at least very well try to do so.

"You will. There's no question about that." His confidence was appalling. "When your legs cling to my waist, caging my body while I take the liberty of yours," he murmured the words just as his lips softly brushed against my nape, "I'm going to be the best thing you've ever had in between your thighs. _Guaranteed_."

Fuckity fuck. Where did this man ever get his lines? I needed to brush up on mine because he kept rendering me speechless.

"I don't mean to crush your ego, but let me remind you that you can never be the best thing in between my thighs because there's no emotional connection between us, so that can never be the best. For a man to do that to a woman, he has to be the king in all of those aspects; thus furthering my valid point that only a couple in love can achieve this sort of severe, transcendental connection."

Taking a deep, slow, calming breath, I tried to remind myself that this was a game, like chess, where one needed to think three steps ahead of your opponent. Or, maybe more similarly, like the chase of Tom and Jerry. Yeah, I supposed the latter sounded more on par.

"So, you, my dearest, arrogant French man, cannot— _will not_ —ever be the greatest thing for me. Never forget that, even if your passions override commonsense."

" _Oui..._ " he agreed without arguing with me. "Indeed, I will never forget this important detail, Isobel."

"Good. At least we have something we agree on." I smiled at him before giving him a soft peck on the cheek, but Hugo's playful mood had completely left him.

The three card poker and blackjack tables were situated below deck where it was supposed to be the State Room for meetings and conferences. The minimum bet per hand was five hundred Euros. It was appalling how these people spent their money as if it was of no consequence, yet at the same time, it was quite something to witness firsthand.

After our little playful banter upstairs on the deck, Hugo decided that he wanted to squander some of his fortune while I stood a foot away, close enough to his chair to take note of how he played cards. After all, he was a casino owner. I was sure he had tricks up his sleeves.

His table consisted of five other men and Jacques. It seemed that the French racer was losing money fast, while Hugo's stack kept rising. It was apparent I wasn't the only one who'd noticed, too. The women had certainly started to mill about the table, taking an interest in the game, the money, and the players.

In half an hour's time, the audience grew at our table compared to the other ones nearby. My eyes kept wandering about the new onlookers, and it seemed that Jacques and Hugo most especially got more come-hither looks than the rest of the men there.

Were they always this desperate? I mean, I got it in a way; to be in the presence of all these successful, power-driven, and not to mention überly sexy men sure did evoke all sorts of unjustifiable feelings of helplessness, admiration, heart-stopping and jaw-dropping moments that left women in a bit of a tizzy. I, too, was guilty as charged, but come on, didn't they see that Hugo had come with a date tonight? That date being me. I felt a little insulted that they didn't mind at all.

With Damen, I hadn't experienced this kind of disrespect because he and I always did things together, and people didn't dare question that we were in love. Anyone with eyes could see how smitten we were with one another. Therefore, this situation wasn't familiar to me. It was an unwelcomed, foreign feeling to which I wasn't sure if I should feel proud to be gracing Hugo's side or if I should make a move, a statement that would ensure my position that he wasn't up for the taking.

Or I could simply ignore them all because Hugo could pretty much do as he pleased. And if his alcohol consumption was be taken into account along with his blatant display of sexual prowess from earlier, the man could pretty much accept their invitations with a quick nod before striding into the nearest available spot where he could shag to his fancy. The most shocking part was that this scenario wasn't too far-fetched. In fact, this was the real Hugo Xavier. Curbing his appetite would merely make him more ballistic, and sooner or later, he'd eventually give up and seek physical comfort in the nearest woman who would accommodate him all night long. And the supply of willing bodies was endless.

The sensual laugh from the French woman who was standing with a martini on my close left brazenly reached out to touch the lapel of his jacket, making him glance at her with a stern look. "Vous regardez grave, mon chéri." (You look tense, darling.)

Hugo glanced away the second the new draw of cards were being distributed. The French woman stayed put, much to my chagrin. Maybe it was how Hugo hadn't seemed bothered that some random woman touched him, or maybe it was the fact that he'd never said anything at all that made me want to put the woman in her place. Either way, I wasn't happy about any of it.

The crisp sound of the new chips drew my eyes towards his hand that was producing the sound. His large, masculine hand covered a stack of purple chips as he let the chips fall, sounding more like dominoes falling.

Then, out of the blue, the table erupted with cheers.

_Blackjack._

Twenty-one. Spades suited.

_"Putain de merde!"_ (Fucking shit!) Jacques huffed out as he threw his cards back on the table before looking to his left and grinning at Hugo. "Sacré veinard!" (You lucky bastard.)

_That's right. The man sure was lucky_ , I thought proudly. I was about to reach out to congratulate him when the women came in droves.

"You're such a fantastic player, Hugo." The blonde woman with amber eyes blushed when he gave her those one of a kind toe-curling smiles that used to get me every single time.

The friend smiled even wider. "It's in his blood."

More over the top compliments were thrown around, and I was literally a breath away from wanting to stomp my foot on the expensively carpeted room and mark my territory.

Grounding my teeth together, I gazed at all of them like a woman about to unleash wrath before common sense directed me to leave him be to bask in his popularity and find my own solitude before I truly did something that I'd regret, like claim him as mine.

My mind was a tricky thing. I knew he wasn't _mine_ per say, but my body somewhat protested.

Feeling frustrated, I slowly crept away before I found myself on the opposite side of the yacht, away from the loudness of the gathered party goers, partaking alcohol, dancing, and gambling.

I was on my way to seek a quiet spot when I luckily walked past a barman and asked for a bottle of champagne, uncorked. The second he handed me a Rosé, I went on my merry way towards the back of the yacht and found a spot where I sat facing the glittering silhouette of Monaco.

I lavished on the chilled bottle while I reflected on my life, my ghastly behavior—or more about how my thoughts were getting muddled by it all—Damen, my friends, and well, Hugo, as if my mind would ever let me forget about him.

Staring at the dark sea, the thought of Damen partying around women, getting zonked, and having the time of his life without me made me feel a tad depressed. What if I wasn't the only one fighting sexual attraction? What if, he, too, was going through the same thing I was, being attracted to another woman? Would he act on it? Would he still love me after he shagged her?

Troubling questions marred my mood, yet the more I thought about it, the more it sunk in that this was quite possibly happening. And if so, what would I do if Damen told me he'd had sexual relations with other women? Would I still be able to take him back and love him the same as I had before? I mean, would I still be able to hold him in such high regard? It was my fault our relationship had halted, and maybe it would make him feel better if he did. It would serve me right for causing him such heartache.

However, as much as I tried to be rational about it, my heart begged that this wasn't the case. That our love was strong enough that he wouldn't dare fancy another warm body sleeping next to him at night.

_Damen, please wait for me_ , I prayed to the stars above, hoping they'd send their bright energy towards Damen tonight somewhere in Mykonos, possibly drunk and gullible to any woman's advances.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," Hugo's voice boomed behind me.

Twisting my head to look at him, I saw he was standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, looking like the opposite of the cheery man inside who had just won an exorbitant amount of money.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked, not bothering to come any closer to me.

Sighing loudly, I nodded towards the silhouetted glow of the land. "How? We're in the middle of the sea." _Stranded until someone was ready to go home. Bugger._

"My helicopter can take us back to the mainland."

_His helicopter?_ He had one parked on one of the helipads? Well, of course he did.

Taking the bottle with me, I strode towards him, feeling blue.

How had this night started so well only to end in such a way? I had taken care to look this gorgeous, and for what? The man couldn't even look at me properly when it was hours ago he couldn't seem to stop admiring me from head to foot. I was starting to hate myself for even wanting his attention. Seriously, what was wrong with me?

The walk towards the awaiting pilot and the helipad was done in silence. There was no talk of how fun his card playing had been, or how brilliant it had been to win in such a way.

The same irritating manner went with the short helicopter ride from the yacht to his hotel at The Riviera.

The prolonged, silent standoff made me wish to scratch a chalkboard to evoke some kind of reaction from him. But no, the bastard was in one of his mercurial moods, so I best entertain myself until boredom eventually killed me.

Following his lead, I wasn't at all surprised when he produced a keycard the second we entered the elevator to take us to his private penthouse suite. With the amount of alcohol he had in his system, driving wasn't the wisest thing to do.

"You look upset," he said the second we entered the double doors to the suite.

_I look upset?_ Ha! Upset was rather mild to describe the storm that had been whirling about me since that woman had touched him.

"Piss off," was all I said as I tried to focus on the elegant surroundings. I knew it was pretty, but it somehow didn't register because I couldn't seem to take in anything other than his close proximity.

"What did I do now?" he asked casually before he strode past me and went straight to the bar where he poured himself a hefty amount of cognac. He then let his drink sit on the marble countertop while he took off his bowtie, jacket, and before I even had the chance to register anything else he was down to unbuttoning his dress shirt until it hung loose and open, showcasing his superb pectoral and abdominal muscled perfection.

My mouth ran dry before I urged myself to look away, blushing profusely.

"Isobel?"

_Fuck. Get it together_ , I chided myself before I faced him again. He was taking a careful sip of his drink while his eyes hadn't wavered from me.

"I don't have any clothes." To be quite frank, this was the last thing that had been on my list, but for some reason, it was the one that my mouth blurted out. Feeling like an idiot? Oh, no, I definitely was one tonight.

"There's a robe in the master bathroom," he informed me while I simply kept staring at him. "I want to touch you whenever I want. I don't want any lacey or silky scrap of clothing to hinder me from your body."

_We'll see about that, shall we?_

I left for the bathroom, fuming at the thought of him throwing it out there, as if tonight I hadn't witnessed him failing to bar women from thinking that he delighted himself in accommodating their brazen advances.

Stripping the blasted dress, I yanked the robe off the hanger before I covered my body with only a mere thong hiding behind the soft, plush robe. I didn't care that he'd requested me naked underneath it. This was my way of showing him that I was rebelling from his orders. He could take it however he saw fit.

The thought of washing my make-up off came to a halt when he didn't care to knock on the door before letting himself into the massive bathroom.

"I was hoping you could join me in the hot tub? It might do you the world."

"I'm fine," I gritted out, wishing he'd leave me alone to simmer in peace.

The bastard didn't seem pleased. "You're going to join me, Isobel."

"I said _no_ , Hugo."

His jaws locked as he gave me a brooding look. He seemed to try to control his temper before addressing me again. "Are you defying my orders?"

Fuck. He couldn't be serious.

Bracing my chest, I was about to respond to him that _yes, I was defying him_ when his chilling voice cut through the tension.

"The door is open if you wish to walk out. I'm not holding you hostage."

Mindfuck. He was playing me to get what he wanted. _Bastard!_

"Very well. Have a great night," I called his bluff before turning around and heading towards the door

"Très bien. And please, don't forget to inform your father that he still owes me money. My lawyers will contact him tomorrow for the balance owed, with your services deducted of course."

He flagged me down with a threat, knowing very well that my father didn't have money to pay him even half of what he owed.

"Tonight, you played with what? A quarter million? Maybe half? My father's debt is laughable compared to how much you spend on entertainment. Couldn't you at least pardon him just this once?"

"And why would I do that, Isobel? Your father means nothing to me. Pardons and favors are out of the question."

He was selfish, and he wasn't holding back on showing me who was in charge of the situation. I didn't have a choice. It was either stay or walk out and deal with my father's wrath for doing so. And the latter was too horrific to even dare think about.

"You win, Hugo," I conceded as I exited the door and went in search of the hot tub.

## 21

# Isobel

"Forget the hot tub, Isobel," he said just as I was about to disrobe. "Sleep the night here. I'm heading out."

"Where are you going?" I asked without turning back.

"Back on the yacht."

I knew it. He wanted to shag one of those women.

It didn't take long until their faces swam before me, making me feel hot and cold all over. What did I care if he planned to fuck one or a dozen of them? It wasn't my problem, nor was it my business.

"Fine, then. I'm still going in with or without you." I shrugged, untying my robe as I did so before letting it fall to pool around my feet. And since I was already on display while he watched me from behind, I audaciously took my knickers off, baring my smooth bottom.

He hadn't made a sound, yet I knew he was still there. The heat of his gaze was powerful as I slowly went into the massive tub.

For the first time, I saw the picturesque view before me. The sea, the stars, and the gorgeous place itself brought magic to my eyes. It was the perfect backdrop for seduction.

"Why aren't you leaving yet?" The question wasn't said loudly, nor was I facing him, but he caught it for some reason.

He didn't bother responding. Instead, I heard him move towards me. Not before long, I heard the sound of a zipper being pulled open and the sudden, swift sound of the garment falling to the floor. With bated breath, I stilled as I heard his movement before he finally came in view through my peripheral vision, before he brazenly showed me his naked body, full frontal and the whole... nine _inches?_ His dick wasn't fully aroused yet, and the mere sight of it and the thought of what it would look like to its full girth and length gave me fluttering butterflies all throughout my stomach.

The man was made to drive me mental, challenging me physically and mentally, blocking whatever kind of argument I'd had with him and with myself.

My heated gaze drifted away from his form as I waited for him to settle in the hot, bubbling mass of water.

Sitting on opposing sides, he splayed his arms as far as they could reach, lounging and looking like he was Don Juan.

_Well,_ he sort of was.

"Tonight began with our eyes meeting, devouring each other with lust and admiration, but look at you now. You can't even look at me."

Giving him a death stare, I aimed to bite his head off—figuratively. "Has it entered your semi-brilliant mind that maybe there's nothing worth looking at? _Maybe,_ I was just pretending?"

I didn't get to bat my eyelashes before he was immediately right in front of me. He was so swift in his movements that I hadn't had the chance to do much when he claimed my lips without our bodies touching. My mouth took him in without hesitation. Our tongues fought out the hungered passion that was escalating out of control between us. I wanted to mold against him and cling to his body. This fevered response that he and I couldn't seem to control was beyond maddening. As much as I hated it, I also couldn't resist it.

"There's no pretending," he rasped out, breathing raggedly against my lips. "This _is_ real... what you do to me... and what I make you feel. _It's real_ , Isobel."

Our passions were so raw even I couldn't deny it out loud, most especially right after we'd just kissed with pure, utter abandonment.

"Now that's settled, will you tell me what's going on in this pretty head of yours, ma belle?" His fingers brushed away the hair from my forehead as he stared deeply, intensely into my eyes.

"I'll give you a hint," I sighed, simply because I couldn't deny him when he was _this_ close to me. "I heard that men who love fast cars drive it harder when they use their _stick_ shift."

He frowned before he started barking out a deep belly laugh, all the while continuously giving me an incredulous look. "Oh, come now. Admit it, it was quite hilarious."

"Sure." I was laughing on the inside...

"What's wrong now, ma belle?" He dropped a light peck on the tip of my nose, melting me with his tenderness.

"What do you think?" I asked timidly, slightly humiliated for finally admitting what was bothering me. "You've embarrassed me in front of your friends by flirting with those insipid women who use sex to get a man's attention."

"It happens all the time." He seemed unperturbed. "I'm used to it."

There it was: this was his sort of lifestyle. The polar opposite of mine. "Whatever."

Hugo wasn't ready to let go of the subject yet. "What is really wrong with you?" he queried on.

"You!" I admitted without thought, barely catching myself because my emotions were rolling off me. "You're what's wrong with me. You're a notorious flirt, and you don't give a damn that I was there, watching it all happen!"

He suddenly looked serious, eyes seeking my own. "I apologize. I hadn't realized that you were jealous and hurt by my actions."

"I am not jealous!" I hissed out, immediately denying it. It wasn't jealousy. It was being disrespected more like...

"You're acting like you are."

"Well, I'm not," I stated succinctly. "Why should I be? I don't love you—you're not Damen."

His eyes were like black diamonds, glittering, beautiful, bottomless depths, but his temper was apparent in them. "I'm very well aware that I'm not Damen!" he gritted out, almost yelling.

I raised my hands, surrendering this bloody argument that kept going in circles. "This is stupid. Let's forget that this conversation ever happened. I'm just having a rough day, is all."

Black diamonds flickered back and forth, seeking for my soul. "All right," he finally uttered, sounding tired.

_All right?_ Nothing will ever be okay again, and it petrified me.

"I don't get you. One second, you're a total wanker, and then, in the blink of an eye, you're a kind gentleman. Which one are you, because I'm beyond confused?"

"I'm the same man you first met. I'm the same man who fancies a quick fuck whenever I feel like it. When my cock springs to life, I put it in action. You very well know that I'm ruthless, that I have the tendency to be despicable, and yet you somehow melt towards me when I kiss you. I'm a wicked temptation that you want to try and taste, even though you're telling yourself that I'm an obligation." He was relentless. "Admit it, you like me, _even just a little_." His breathtaking smile blinded me from my senses. "I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Okay, maybe I do like you... a little," I muttered with a blush.

His dashing smile immediately vanished from his face before something of meaning replaced it. Then, before I had the chance to ask him what it was, he determinedly savored my lips, kissing them as though they were a delicious treat to taste, slowly, eagerly, melting my core and every ounce of my common sense.

Consumed by the fire that had overtaken us, engulfing us in flames as our mouths devoured one another, little did I notice that he was pressing against my body, backing me against the wall of the tub while my legs had somehow parted to accommodate him. The majestic feeling of awe at having him this way was overruling everything I had told myself not to do. My hands caressed his chest before I cupped them behind his head as I pulled him closer to me. I wanted him so badly, and he felt divine. God help me.

His hands squeezed my breasts before they explored between my thighs. Then I unexpectedly felt him pinch my clit; thus making me spasm in his arms. His digits kept exploring my pussy, but he never dared insert anything in me. I admired his control... _until I felt him_. His hard and hot, turgid length teasing my clit, gliding and thrusting back and forth.

"Hell, Hugo!" I moaned from the explicit pleasure that seized my body from the sheer, intimate contact of him.

"Does this feel like Damen to you?" he demanded before he bit the side of my neck, making me scream and moan like I had never done before.

Fuck, this was truly different from what I'd experienced with Damen.

"Definitely..." I stuttered, "not."

Damen's lovemaking was different. This? Whatever this was between us, it was savage.

It drew out our animalistic sides—the mating, the banter, the possessiveness. We circled around on our baser instincts and senses.

It was as vulgar as it was exquisite.

Vulgarly, undoubtedly, exceptionally exquisite.

## 22

# Hugo

_" Does this feel like Damen to you?"_ I barked it out arrogantly, knowing well enough that her delighted reaction to our delicious body friction was a resounding no, but I still went ahead and demanded the question because I wanted her to say it out loud. I _needed_ her to say it, a confirmation uttered from her own lecherous lips.

Her moans were driving me wickedly mad. This hunger to drive her over the edge, into a pleasurable abyss, made me bite her neck. The animalistic rawness of a bite on a woman's delicate neck never failed to produce unparalleled pleasure, certainly making them much more pliable for our intentions.

Just as expected, Isobel produced a scream the second my teeth sunk into her sensitized flesh. It was a sound that made men fall on their knees and indulge the goddess in whatever she desired. A scream that made my cock angry to the point of explosion because it wanted entry to her safe haven.

"Definitely"—she panted incoherently—"not." She sounded lost, suspended from reality while my body did its purpose in delivering her to a place that was the closest a person could be to nirvana. The urge was potent to keep her there, detached from her thoughts, only able to feel. _Feel_ the euphoria I was granting her. Feel how amazing things could be between us if she decided to pursue this road of sensuality with me.

"Hugo..."

The mere sound of her voice calling out to me in such a carnal way made everything inside me constrict with excitement. My hands were on her breasts, but I made them trail over her back from her shoulder blades all the way down to the base of her spine before I palmed the curve of her buttocks, gripping them hard, letting her cunt slide harder against the back of my cock as it sat rigidly between us.

As I gazed admiringly at her, Isobel was lost in the heady and magnified, beautiful sensation we were weaving together. Her reluctance of this magnetic attraction and her slight measure of giving in to me—even though she had been fighting tooth and nail about everything that was related to me—well, this felt mighty triumphant. Yet, even in this short-term triumph, the greater need of wanting _it all_ superseded it all.

This was appetizing, of course it was. I had never doubted my instincts when it came to women, but I wanted her utter and complete surrender without hesitation. I wanted her to want me the way I wanted her. The need had consumed me since she'd walked in to save her father from destitution.

Generally, as a rule, patience where women were concerned wasn't on my list at all. What man of wealth and power would waste time on such trivial situations when it could be invested in something beneficial? No decent businessman would even toy with the idea. Of course, there were exceptions—if the man in question had a wife and family, then the rules changed.

I could take her like this, with my cock a mere breath away from her opening, and she wouldn't even have a second to deny me because she'd be lost in the pleasure of what my cock would do to her. My dark thoughts prevailed, yet there was something much stronger inside me, insisting that I wait until she commanded me to fuck her because she couldn't fathom another second without having me inside her.

My ego was a double-edged sword. I couldn't make myself thrust my hips into her tight hole. My decisive decision made me curse inwardly, knowing quite well that I would end up having a cold shower while I palmed my cock. _When was the last time I've done that?_ I thought, mocking myself. I couldn't even remember because I had always had women who'd done everything for me. The very thought itself was depressing. When had my life come to such a sad state?

Sex was the only thing I could indulge in... since having a family was out of the equation. It was the only thing that made me sane.

" _Ma belle,_ make me come with you..." I groaned out, needing her to hear the desperation in my voice.

I didn't need her pussy to finish off; she could use her hands, her swollen mouth, or her pussy lips, riding on top of me as she glided her juices against my hot length.

"Hugo... I'm..."

"Touch my cock, _mon amant_." (My lover.) "Use your other hand to caress my balls..."

Her hands followed direction, gentle yet eager to please. The feel of her hands pressing against my shaft while I thrust against her labia felt too glorious to describe. Her gentleness eventually became harsher as I upped my speed. The warmth of the water sluicing around our motions, the rapidness of our heartbeats as we synchronized together with one purpose, achieving the end, became a whirl of madness until we finally reached our peaks.

Isobel cried out against my lips while I came against her luscious cunt.

I was inhaling her scent behind her earlobe before I breathed out, "Mon Dieu, c'était magnifique." (My God, that was magnificent.)

She laughed huskily before kissing my cheek. "Yes, that sure was."

For the past week, I had shared her bed. It was a given that, each night I came to her, we would succumb to our passions. It also became a habit that every morning I'd wake her up with my mouth attached in between her legs.

I was mad for her, and I couldn't, no matter how much I kissed her lips and her body, get enough of it. But even if our passion was unimaginable, she hadn't begged me to go all the way yet. Though I must admit my control was slipping away, I still managed to harness it each time our sexes touched.

Isobel was slowly blooming before my eyes, giving me glimpses of the real woman within her cattiness and pleasant smiles. The woman behind the façade was this bright woman who had a great spirit and laughed madly until she snorted, which of course made her blush with embarrassment, but I found it truly cute and heart-warming. She was different; I had been aware of that from the very beginning. However, her uniqueness had particularly drawn me in to look beyond her appearance. Deep inside, she was as gullible as they come at twenty-three with the perception that life could be all about love and happiness. She rarely mentioned it, but when she did, I knew she was talking about Damen—the man she'd had to forcibly put aside until her obligations were finalized.

I wasn't a man who looked into the future, and I certainly wasn't one who dwelled on past lovers and what might've been, but picturing Isobel's freeing, full-of-life smiles with the man that she longed for made me feel uneasy. Therefore, as much as I could, I tried not to show that I was bothered each time she mentioned his name. She randomly did this while we were having discussions over dinner, aimlessly walking about The Riviera, or even when we were in bed. She'd spout something off about being in school and how life had gotten better since Damen.

I was all for freedom of speech, but sometimes, it would've been perfect if the woman had a filter. There were rules in bed for lovers. One being the fact that no one should discuss current other lovers, or past ones for that matter. Each time she made a comment, it was on the very tip of my tongue to tell her that sometimes it was better off not to even say anything; however, her face would light up, and I, the mad man that I was, simply couldn't resist gazing at her when she looked the very epitome of why God had created the earth and all its entirety. I was almost convinced that, when God had finished his creation, he'd sat back and admired her beauty, feeling most accomplished since a face like hers truly was unrivalled.

"Isobel," I whispered her name as I gazed upon the glimmering sea. I stood in my office, admiring the view before me, thinking about how difficult it was to not fully fuck her body, when a knock came on the door.

"Oui?" I called out as I spun around to see who it was.

"Mr. Julien Geroux is here to see you." My secretary raised her perfectly shaped brow, wondering if she should let my best friend in.

I was about to say something when a sound from the door came through. "He'll see me. Why wouldn't he? I'm not his mortal enemy, now am I? Come off it, Sophie. I'm your favorite." Julien's familiar voice cajoled my newly divorced forty-year-old secretary.

Sophie rolled her eyes as she chastised him for polluting the air inside the building with every breath he took before finally walking away, giving way to let Julien inside my office.

"Ah, how are we today, sir lover boy?" the arrogant fool greeted me with a smirk as he strode across the office and went straight to the bar to pour himself a whiskey.

"What are you doing here, Geroux?" I hadn't been aware that we were meeting today.

He shrugged, taking ahold of his glass, before spinning around to face me with a look I was familiar with. "You should know better..." he started, shaking his head in disapproval. "The pattern that you're on right now." He took a sip of his drink. "Louise..."

Mentioning her name made me feel violent. "Don't you dare start with me, Julien—"

"I dare because I'm a concerned friend. You don't want anything like that attached to your name. Most especially that. You've done so well for a decade. Don't fuck it up now."

He was overstepping himself. "Careful, Geroux." I warned him, but he remained nonchalantly casual.

"Careful." He nodded. "That's the word. You should learn it because, if your twisted luck strikes again, you'd wish that you'd sought the word itself."

My jaws locked, hating every single word that he was jabbing at me. "I would never let anything like that happen again. Never!" I threw at him harshly.

"This is out of our hands, Xavier. We know that," he finished somberly before gulping the rest of his drink, giving me another harsh look. "I like Isobel. She's very nice and quite stunning to look at. But my only concern here is _you_ , Hugo. Do you want to be picking up the puzzle to figure it out just before it's too late again? The aftermath—you barely made it out sane." With that, he left me watching his retreat, racking my brain and wondering if I was in denial or did Julien really have grounds.

I was attracted to Isobel. I wanted her like I had never wanted a woman before, but that was all it was—an animalistic desire to possess a beauty, nothing more.

Julien's concern didn't have any merit. There simply wasn't. It was the bare truth.

## 23

# Isobel

"How are the preparations going?" someone asked me the question from behind. I knew without having to see who it was that it was Hugo wanting to charm the life out of me. I could hear it from his voice. It dripped with it, reminding me of how we had been spending our nights together, always finishing locked in an embrace with our naked bodies.

Yes... Naked Hugo. He was beautiful naked. Most especially when he was on top of me, gazing down with such fierce passion it never failed to trap me as his captive.

"It's... going." I smiled, still not ready to see him yet because my heart was beating so rapidly I somehow felt faint. He did this to me. I was a hot mess where he was concerned. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be sitting at the helm, barking orders to some chap?"

"Oh, I bark orders..." There was laughter in his voice before his hands touched the sides of my hips and pulled me towards him, whispering into my ear, "Why don't you come here and kiss me?"

Hell. I couldn't believe he'd turn on his seductive voice in public. "There are people around."

We were organizing the decorations and other preparations for Julee's event in one of the vast ballrooms of his hotel. As a result, one could imagine how many people milled about and ran to get this or that done. Furthermore, with the boss hanging around, flirting with yours truly, I was flattered and at the same time could do without the wide-eyed curiosity.

"Come on, a little PDA can't harm anyone."

I was always at risk of harm by becoming one of those idiotic women who saw stars in their eyes.

"I usually don't do that sort of thing," I murmured before I spun around to face him. The moment our eyes clashed, my stomach dropped and my heart did a somersault. The intense combination made me lose my breath a little.

His eyes sought mine, as if he too was feeling the connection, before he pulled me closer, crushing my breasts against his chest. "Well, you do now," he said when his lips were a tad away from kissing me fully. "You definitely do now, Isobel." The second he captured me for a kiss, I was lost in him. His scent, his touch, and the feeling that we were spiraling out of control, washed over me.

I wasn't sure how long it lasted, but the second he parted from the kiss, I regretted that it had to even end.

Gazing up at him, I had a shy smile on my face. "Just had to display it out there... couldn't help yourself, could you?"

He matched my smile before his thumb brushed against the shape of my bottom lip. "I just had to see you before I go into a meeting. How about you come up for lunch?"

"You sure? I know you're a busy man." I wanted to spend time with him, too, but I didn't want him to sacrifice work hours when we could make out more the second he got home.

" _Oui,_ but I can always make time for you."

Le sigh. "If you say so. I'll meet you there at noon." Gazing at my watch, I looked at him to double check. "Is that good enough?"

"You're always good enough, Isobel." He winked at me before leaving me gazing at his perfect behind. Though I was distracted by his perfect form, it didn't leave my notice that there were a hefty amount of men and women checking the very man himself, admiring from afar.

Yet, of all the people here, he had chosen me. I shook my head, bubbling with silliness as I longed to see him in sixty minutes.

Time, I realized, went by at a snail's pace when you were counting each minute.

Our lunch date was nothing like I had expected. The second I was ushered in to meet Hugo, I was surprised that he was waiting for me in the elevator.

"Are you ready?" he asked with a smile that made my pussy contract.

I looked at him with a sheepish expression. "For what?"

"Lunch."

Oh, that. Lunch... Why had I forgotten about that for a second? _It's his smile_ , my pussy reminded me for the second time. "Right. So, where are we lunching?"

"It's a surprise." He took my hand to securely stick me to his side before he pressed one of the buttons on the top panel.

"I love surprises," I breathed out like a giddy teenager on her first date. Keeping myself in check, I glanced at my shiny reflection against the gold-plated elevator doors, wondering when giggling had become a bad habit of mine.

Putting my worries aside, I refocused my attention on the man next to me. There were times to worry about these things, and surely this moment wasn't one of those.

Just as he'd promised, he surprised me by taking me for a helicopter ride, having no clue where our destination was. Maybe it was the lack of affection from my father growing up that made me feel like, if a man went out of his way to make a woman special, one should always be grateful that they'd even thought of the kind gesture.

Hugo and my father were similar, but it was blatantly obvious that the man next to me, caressing the back of my neck as he pointed out the window, showing me a yacht in the middle of the sea, had a heart, that he'd cherish you once you were under his care. I respected that about him. I truly did.

Not only that, but he was a man of his word. I mean, how often had we had instances where he could have simply taken me and I might not have even cared because I was so out of it? And yet, he'd remained true to his word, holding out hope that, one night, I'd tell him to go all the way.

I wasn't going to lie, each time we came together, kissing and touching, the thought always played out in my head. However, there was something always holding me back from uttering the words out loud. Though, in my head, yes, I did beg of it once or twice.

The yacht came closer into view. The size was just about as massive as Luca's from that party, which I hadn't realized on our previous trip to it. Once we landed on his yacht, Hugo was all smiles as he helped me out of the helicopter before directing us towards the back end of the vessel, towards an awaiting, smaller boat, which I was assuming was what we'd be riding in next.

Hugo hadn't let go of my hand since he'd helped me out of the helicopter, and I found myself feeling at ease when he'd plant a kiss on my forehead or anywhere around my face, which he always managed to do. The back of my neck, my cheek, shoulder blade, my nose, you name it. Wherever skin was exposed, he'd bless it with his amorous lips.

It was a short boat ride towards the shore where our lunch waited, prepared with thorough detail and embellishments inside a white linen tent. His staff greeted us with a warm smile and a heavy dose of romance everywhere.

"Welcome to Corsica."

"This is quite grand," I breathed out, overwhelmed by the splendid gesture.

He shrugged before leading me towards the white linen-covered table where he pulled out a chair for me to sit on. After I was seated, he then took the opposing seat from mine.

"I _only_ do grand when I happen to really like someone," he flirted back with ease.

"I hope you're not thinking tonight's the night..." I hid my smile away. "I don't put out on first dates. Just a thought."

"Really, now?" He chuckled with pure amusement before he gestured for someone to pour us champagne then focused on me again. "I appreciate a woman who knows her value..." he trailed off in a sexy, husky tone. "It makes it all the more sweet once I have captured her, trapped in between my arms, trapped by my lips, impaled underneath me..."

"You really need to learn not to make a woman blush from head to foot in broad daylight." I tried to scold him, but his deep, throaty laugh merely made me gaze at him in such awe and tenderness. He truly was beautiful. It became lethal when he smiled or when he laughed, eyes dancing as he gazed at me as if I was the most enchanting thing he'd ever set his eyes upon.

"But I adore you more when you blush."

Damn. With that, I went from soft pink to crimson.

"Now you're just doing that on purpose to see how beet red I'd get." I gave him an accusing look before he reached out for my hand that was resting on the table, gently taking it against his own before brushing a kiss against the skin on the back of my hand.

"When a woman blushes or seems flushed, it sends out a message to the rest of the male species that the man she's with pleases her—that she finds him attractive." He paused, giving me a breathtaking look. "I love knowing that they know you're taken just by looking at you."

Where was he going with this? Why did his words feel more intimate compared to how he used to say those things weeks back?

"Your possessiveness will get you in trouble one day. Besides, it's so unnecessary, especially with me. It's not like men would dare take you on."

"True," he agreed without hesitation. "But they still have eyes that wander around, appreciating what's mine."

I considered him a moment, uncertain if I found this trait of his baffling and disturbing, unimaginably beyond sexy, or all of the above. Okay, I conceded that it was the latter option. However, as much as I wanted to admit it to him by saying it out loud, I'd rather appear less interested than seeming to be overeager.

"Maybe it would benefit you not to act like you're an alpha male all the time."

"I _am_ the alpha male."

That statement was true. To that, I had no smart rebuttal. Instead, I chose to inflate his ego some more. " _Alpha_... you sure are _very male_ —virile, potent, dominating to a point of madness."

_"Ah, ma belle."_ He grinned whole-heartedly. "Are you beginning to compliment me?" His teasing tone made me roll my eyes.

_"Almost..."_ I retorted back, enraptured at being in his company.

_L ater that night..._

"Hello?" I took the call absentmindedly, as I was about to jump into the shower.

"Hello, Iso. How are you, _koritsáki mou_?" my paternal grandmother's voice flittered through the phone, making me tense a little.

My grandparents spoiled my father rotten, nurturing a monster in the making, a man who knew nothing about being a husband, nor being a father.

"Grandmother," I said, feeling cold. She was Greek, and I was supposed to call her _nana,_ but saying that meant she was a woman who meant something dear to me, which wasn't the case. Calling her _grandmother_ was far more appropriate. It was much more formal, _cold,_ and detached, just like the very woman herself.

"Your mother has fallen ill. Come home at once," she demanded chillingly before ending the call without bidding me goodbye.

Staring at the phone, I didn't even have to think twice about asking Hugo permission to go home for a week or so to see my mother. Besides, this was an emergency. I knew he wouldn't hesitate to send me home with well wishes for my mother.

Home.

_Greece..._

Where my father awaited.

Where Damen was.

Damn, I had hoped I wouldn't have to come across him, face him and lie or something worse.

I sighed deeply, feeling helpless.

## 24

# Isobel

Last night, when I told Hugo about the news of my mother falling ill, he didn't even question if I wanted to go home. He simply made arrangements for me to fly out first thing in the morning. And for the first time, after we started our gluttonous nightly festivities last night, he didn't demand anything from me. He simply held me close all night long, kissing the back of my neck whenever he could. Without words, he found a way to comfort me because he knew that I was worried. It might've meant nothing to him, but to me, it meant so much.

The moment I arrived in Athens, I took a cab and headed straight to see my mother. Our home was huge, sitting atop a hill, but that was basically all it was, all for show. Behind it all, debts piled up, and my father's uncontrollable spending and gambling habits had buried us so deep into debt that I doubted we'd all be able to pay it off even if I made a decent size income after I graduated from university.

There was no mistaking the scent of Athens. I knew I was on Greek soil the moment I stepped out of the terminal. It was the smell of home, yet I fully couldn't call it _home_ when most of my memories here were rotten ones. Apart from that, however, I loved the city—the country itself.

Even though I was only half Greek, there was something in our blood that made us proud—it was a part of us, imbedded in our hearts, centered in the very core of our souls—to share a part of something so significant that helped shape the civilization of today. Not only that, but our cities were rich with culture and destinations where the past met the present, magnificent beaches and islands, full of wonder and intrigue. Once a person met Greece—the real Greece—it never left their hearts.

Even with all this love I had for everything Greek, it never changed the fact that coming back still brought tremors to my body—that familiar feeling I got knowing quite well that, whatever happened to my mother, I was almost a hundred percent sure my father had some part in it. He always did. It was his way of "reminding" us of who was in charge, who we should fear, and who we should never fail to follow. He was a tyrant through and through. His damning views in life and beliefs was troubling, and yet no one—not fucking one of his family—ever dared question or put him in place. They watched in silence as their beloved son terrorized his family, beating my mother whenever his mood struck him.

My depressing train of thought had to take a backseat when the cab driver stopped right outside the house, giving me cold dread as I paid him before getting out of the car. From afar, the house looked great, but if you paid attention to close detail, it was apparent that the paint was chipped and cracked, the lawn in the garden was overgrown and in dire need of trimming, the once gorgeous rows of beautiful rose bushes were chaotic and in need of clipping.

Looking away from the disheartening surroundings, I pulled out my house keys from my purse before stepping inside the home. I wasn't sure what I had expected to see when I came home, but I certainly wasn't expecting complete, eerie silence. Mother was sick, wasn't she? And knowing how my father weaved his evil spell, he'd never want to spend a dime on my mother by taking her to the hospital to have her checked over by a doctor.

I'd once asked him why he was so cruel, and he had merely shrugged and given me a look I won't ever forget. "There's no need to waste money when your mother isn't dying. She'll sleep it off. She'll be good as new tomorrow."

His selfishness knew no bounds.

It was right after he said those words when I fully understood that he was a monster. Before then, there was a part of me which hoped that he'd change. When I was young, gullible, and the optimism ran rampant, I thought that my father would eventually be enlightened, and he'd change to become a better man—a better husband to my mother, and a supportive father to Yannis and I. However, after he'd uttered those lines, there was surely no hope for him. What kind of man would say something like that about his sick wife?

On top of that, it was his fault my mother was sick, because she'd found out that he had been having an affair, and then my mother had refused to eat anything for days on end. She had been heartbroken, while my father mocked it as if it was a nuisance.

The memories flooded in the moment the stale, stagnant air of the house hit my nostrils. The fading décor and the surroundings that had seen better days made me feel like I had gone into a time capsule and was young again, feeling helpless each time mother had fallen ill.

Automatically, I headed straight to my mother's bedroom. And just as I had predicted, she was there, seeming like she was sleeping with her faded, knitted, blue blanket held close to her stomach. The picture of her in this position was eerily familiar. The last time this had happened, my father had aimed at her stomach, punishing her for a useless uterus, as he'd so vehemently accused her. He was a heel, the worst kind of man, and we were just unfortunate to be his family.

"Mum?" I whispered shakily as I slowly crept deeper into the dark bedroom. My small steps made the floorboards creek as I moved closer to her. _"Mum?"_ I asked again. This time, I saw her blink her eyes wide open before searching for the source the voice had come from. Then, when our eyes met, the usual, tender mixed with immense sadness that reminded me of a miserable, lost puppy, greeted me once more. "What happened this time, Mum?"

My heart broke for her— _for us_. This was a hopeless case and wouldn't ever stop until she walked away. Her undying love for my father made her stay, even though there was nothing left in their marriage besides their marriage certificate. Other than that, they were practically mere strangers. Him living in his own fantasy while my mother pined for him to come home. A decade and a half of never-ending repetition.

When would it end? When she was dead? Was that what she was waiting for? This very thought made me feel volatile, frustrated that my own flesh and blood—my own mother—couldn't stand her ground and grow a backbone for once.

She gave me a weak smile before I reached for her hand and gave it a light squeeze, letting her know that I was there for her.

"Mum...please..." I sobbed, needing her to see and understand that there was still a way out—that it was never too late to start over again and live the life she had once longed for. "You have to leave him and go back to England. He's never going to stop hurting you—he's that cruel."

Her eyes moistened, agony etched on her face, before she brought my hand that held hers towards her chest, where her heart rested. She placed my palm over it, making me aware that she was still alive, before she looked away just as her tears started to slide down the side of her face.

The gesture was her way of telling me that she was okay, that she was in love with my father and would never leave him. It was discouraging. The pattern hadn't really changed over the years. She needed to see that— _know_ that there was no hope for him.

"He's a monster, Mum. Don't you see that?" I begged as my tears streamed from my face. "He doesn't love you. He doesn't love any of us. He's selfish and only cares for himself. _You know this!_ Why can't you just accept it and stop forgiving him for all the atrocious things he's done to you?"

Again, she merely gave me a look that told me she would never do that.

My father had done this to her, made her lose her voice—her ability to freely speak her mind without fearing anything bad would happen to her. When things had started to spiral out of control, her voice had gone the opposite way, hiding from the world, as if preventing herself from speaking the truth would hide what my father was. Or maybe it was because she was living in her own heart brokenness to the point that she couldn't comprehend speaking in fear that she'd be ashamed. This notion had been brought up by my very own grandmother, accompanied with a pitying look that stated she saw my mother as a weak, pathetic fool.

When I realized that my attempts in trying to convince her to leave the country were futile, I tried to see her injury—the bruises she was hiding from me inside the blanket—but she was adamant in pushing me away. Even my attempts in feeding her soup didn't go anywhere; therefore, I decided to leave her be for a while and come back to check on her later.

Maybe, when I tried again after she'd rested, she might change her mind and hear me out this time.

My mother skipped her lunch, but when dinner came, she took a few spoonfuls of soup. She declined any offers I had for companionship and wanted to be left alone, so I granted her wishes.

By ten that night, my mind swirled with all kinds of things. I had been arguing with myself over whether I should call Hugo and tell him I had safely landed and was okay. I wasn't sure if he'd care because he hadn't tried to contact me, either. Assuming and reassuring myself that he was busy and need not to be interrupted, I simply convinced myself that he was probably relieved not to have me around. Sure, we had been having fun for the past weeks, but I was certain he missed his old lifestyle. I mean, come on, the man hadn't had the real hot sex he'd gluttonously had over the years. So without me in sight, I was almost positive that he'd had Sherry or Chantel flown in for a hot, sweaty reunion.

Thinking about them with Hugo... Well, it made me feel a little angry. Only a little. I knew he wasn't mine, nor were we in love or anything, but still, we had been intimate in the every possible aspect without going all the way in a physical sense. He was great—funny when need be and sinfully sexy as hell—but that's all there was. There was no depth to our circumstance. Well, that was my opinion, anyway.

Sighing, I gripped my phone before deciding to insert it in my back jean pocket as I heard the faint sound of the doorbell chime.

Was it father? He usually left his keys, especially when he was drunk. Bloody hell, the last thing I needed to end the night was a fight with my father. Couldn't he have at least stayed back for another week or something? Or maybe never come back home again? He was a useless husband, so what point did he have in coming back here, anyway?

My defenses were up. My guards were alert. I was ready to fight him even if he'd end up choking me to death. He needed to see that this wasn't right—what he was doing to my mother was an act done by a monster.

Fuming before yanking the door wide open, I opened my mouth to say something that would set my father off in a rage when I stopped myself short, shocked.

_"Damen?"_ I stared at him, aghast and at the same time my heart ceasing to work for a moment at seeing him again after such a long absence. "What are you doing here?"

"When I heard you were back for a visit, I knew I had to see you." He made a sexy, shy smile, eyes glued to me, awe and love visible in them. "You look beautiful, Isobel."

_Damn... no. Don't go there_ , I silently begged with my eyes before looking away because my heart started to hurt.

"Damen, I can't do this right now. My mum's sick. My life is complicated and chaotic as it is. I hope you understand that." My words seemed to strike him before I saw a flash of anger in his face, then it disappeared in the blink of an eye.

"Why?" He sounded truly hurt by my immediate rejection to his intentions of seeing me. "Did you expect that I would just step back because you left me a voicemail? _We're together_ —stop running away from me."

Above all things, my heart went out to him, but I knew I shouldn't melt my resolve because I had signed a contract with Hugo. It was written in bold letters that I was to not be alone with ex-lovers, or any man for that matter. This was definitely crossing the line, and the last thing I needed was for Hugo to find out. It would snap his already thinning patience with me.

"I'm not _running away._ I mean... It's just complicated."

"What's the difference with _not_ being with me and _being_ with me while you're interning at The Riviera? I'm confused 'cause you were supposed to come back after you visited your father, and all of a sudden, things changed," he pressed the subject, not willing to let it go as he started to come closer, much closer than I felt comfortable with. "Am I missing something here?" he asked in an almost whispered voice, breaking my guard a little.

His brows furrowed as he searched my eyes for answers. "If you feel pressured about our plans for the future, then say so. I won't speak about it again if it makes you panic." Then his eyes dropped to my lips, leaving me breathless.

_Damen, please... stay back._ My heart and my body responded like they usually did.

He was familiar and the man I was in love with. Could I really find fault in my reaction to him?

"I never felt pressured. Not with you—never with you." My eyes glassed with moisture as I gave him a pleading look. "Damen... please."

" _Iso_ , don't break me like this."

"It's only temporary. I promise." Fuck, I could feel my conscience kicking in, working its way into my heart, my once steel resolve becoming shaky.

Damn, he wouldn't heed anything. He simply pushed on, persisting to know answers that had boggled him ever since I had broken it off with him.

"Did you fall in love with some other guy? Is that why you wanted to take a break?" He looked broken before, but after asking me this, he seemed to be in a great amount of pain.

I shook my head, not willing to deny my feelings for him. I wasn't all that cruel, after all. "No! Of course not." This was something I could tell him, at least, and hopefully, it'd help ease his pain.

He took a moment and bit his bottom lip before looking down at the floor, looking lost in thought. After a good minute or so, when he did look up, I couldn't read his face. His eyes sought mine as he stepped closer, drowning me in the familiar depths that I'd stared at for years and years of us being together. The quick jab in my heart made me bleed when I saw how much this break-up had taken a toll on him. He still looked gorgeous, yet there was something lacking in his eyes. The smile in his eyes was gone, replaced by something sad and gloomy.

"Do you still love me?"

_Did he think that I didn't?_ I thought ch to myself as I stared into him, seeking what I had just asked myself. In that instant, I realized that he had considered everything, even this. That my love had simply ebbed away without looking back. This...

_This_ broke my resolve.

"I do," I said as I shut down my brain and let my heart reign free. "I still love you."

He reached out to cup my cheek, bringing my face towards him. "Then what's the problem, Iso?" he asked, and before I had the chance to respond, he kissed my answer away, forgetting everything I had just told myself not to do, letting my emotions go haywire.

I was in Greece for an entire week with no sightings of my father, nor had we heard from him. I couldn't leave without having to beg my grandmother to lend one of her helpers to live with my mother until she was well and could function on her own again. My grandmother was, of course, reluctant at first, but my relentless pursuit of the subject left her exhausted. So in the very end, it was my grandfather who told me that it was okay to borrow one of the ladies to help nurse my mum.

The short visit caused a lot of resentment and anger, yet at the same time, I couldn't take back what had happened with Damen after we kissed. The man wouldn't let me go after that. Moreover, given my high emotional state, I didn't fight him off when he went further, taking his intentions to another level.

## 25

# Hugo

"Isobel," I said the second I got inside her bedroom without knocking, "it's good to see you back." Beaming, I let my eyes rove over her beautiful face and body, needing assurance that she was safe and unharmed. She was putting her computer aside and hadn't said a word. My curiosity was piqued at her odd behavior. "Aren't you going to come here and greet me properly?" I slowly strode over to her, resolving her lack of response for exhaustion.

Once I got to her on the other side of the bed where she was sitting and waiting, I immediately kissed her forehead before cradling her cheek to kiss her on the lips. Her intoxicating scent filled my nostrils, and I instantly felt a wave of calmness wash over me.

"You've been gone for far too long. How is your mother? I hope she is well and safe." I searched her eyes and was taken aback to see hers stare back at me full of trouble and hesitation. "Is something the matter?"

She shook her head before licking her lips and looking away. "My mum will eventually get better. Thanks for asking."

I frowned as I gazed upon her, knowing very well that my instincts couldn't be far off when they were telling me that something was amiss. "Is there something you want to tell me, Isobel?" My voice may be soft, but I was on edge, hoping she wasn't hiding anything from me.

She made a wan smile. "I'm just tired..." she trailed off. "I didn't get much sleep once I got there, so I'm beyond exhausted."

I nodded, worried. "Of course. Have you had dinner?" It was half past eight, and from what I had been told, she hadn't had a nibble of food since she'd flown in two hours ago. I would've gone home to welcome her back immediately, but I had barely flown in myself from Switzerland after some business. I had immediately come straight to see her, bound with excitement and expectation. I definitely hadn't been picturing her as cold and distant. Weary and exhausted? Yes, of course. But standoffish? No. Especially not after how things had been between us before she'd left.

She declined my invitation for dinner, excusing herself to the bathroom to shower while I stared after her, pondering what had gone wrong.

Listening to her movements in the bathroom, I looked about her room for about five minutes before deciding to leave her be. Perhaps we could talk again in an hour or so. Maybe she'd feel better then.

Finally getting up to leave her room, I strode towards the other wing on the opposite side of the villa to my bedroom to change. All the while, I thought of our cold and detached exchange in her bedroom.

Entering my domain, I headed straight to my walk-in closet before taking my clothes off to shower before dinner. I wasn't particularly hungry; however, I felt I needed to give her space even though all I wanted was to spend the entire night with her in her bed... naked... while we caught up on events. I wanted to hear what had happened on her trip in Athens, amongst other things.

After a quick shower, I went downstairs to work whilst having dinner, biding time until I felt she'd had enough time of her own before facing me again.

The intended one hour wait became two as I was consumed by the current project I was working on. I took a moment to breathe and gather my thoughts, feeling slightly euphoric at the thought of tasting her again tonight. After a week without her here and with no distractions to speak of, my mind—whenever not occupied with work—had continuously wandered towards her, wondering how she was doing in Athens.

There were times when I wanted to simply call her and ask her myself, but I also wanted her to have some privacy since her mother was ill and she probably couldn't be bothered. I thought that, if she truly wanted to talk, she would've easily called me. However, after her quick message stating that she had arrived and was fine, nothing had come from her. From then on, I had counted the days until she was back here with me, in my house where I could see her whenever I wanted.

Sherry and Chantel were back from their vacations and the two had moved in to the hotel because I had made a vow to myself that I would concentrate solely on Isobel, and I meant to keep that promise. The ladies, of course, were baffled with the immediate change of living arrangements, yet I wasn't one to fully disclose my life, even to my past lovers. I meant to speak to them once I'd had a discussion with Isobel before letting them both go with a hefty parting present.

Leaving my library, I pictured her in bed, dressed in one of those silky, short, slip-on nightdresses with nothing underneath. She knew I went berserk whenever she did that. And since she and I hadn't seen each other in a while, I was hoping she'd be more than eager to participate tonight in what I had hungered for.

Striding towards her room, each step that got me closer to my destination made me feel nervous all of a sudden. I wasn't sure why, but her unwelcoming response had been so unexpected that it somehow pained me a little.

Not bothering to knock on her door, I let myself inside and found her on the bed with her laptop, just as I had found her earlier. When she saw me enter, she immediately shut it off and placed it on the side table before giving me a pained smile.

"Hey, I was wondering where you've been."

Maybe it was the fake smile that I had just witnessed or her odd attitude, but I surely didn't buy the fact that she was "wondering" where I'd been. Had she meant it, she could've easily found me downstairs, but she hadn't.

"I've been in the library this whole time, working as I nibbled on dinner.

"So, tell me about your trip," I stated as I slowly took my clothes off. She watched me with hesitation, as if she wanted to look yet didn't deem it suitable, which was another point that got me confused. She had seen me naked countless times; what had changed to make her shy and reluctant like she had been in the very beginning?

"Very quiet. My father wasn't there when I landed, thank goodness for that." She sounded relieved, although something was bothering her.

Knowing myself, I'd wait until I fully had an idea of what was causing her to act this way before confronting her about it. Maybe it was just the stress of it all, but something nagged at me, and I simply couldn't place what it was.

Shrugging off the rest of my clothing, I slid into bed with her before I automatically pulled her freshly scented body towards me. Spooning her, my cock immediately nestled against her pert bottom. My nose indulged in her smell as I kissed along the back of her neck and shoulder blade.

"I couldn't get you out of my head, ma belle." My hand sought the end of her silk nightdress before my hand reached farther down her body, needing more of her. "Take this off, I want to see," I rasped out with urgency, hoping I'd calm the hell down and savor her slowly, like a decadent dessert that needed to be relished with each bite, tasting every aspect of its phenomenal flavor.

She made a soft gasp when I hastily took off the dress. Then my lips lunged and clasped on her nipple, biting and tasting her with gusto.

"Hugo..." she rasped out, seeming like she wanted to stop me, yet she moaned with each touch I granted her.

"Relax, ma chérie. I promise to make it good for you." My lips trailed along her jawline as I slowly situated myself in between her legs, desperate to feel the heat of her warmth, to feel the slickness of her moisture as I slid along her slit. My hunger felt like it was eating me alive. I wanted her so much that it borderlined on being painful.

The hunger surely dissipated the moment my eyes caught something on the base of her neck. It was faint, but it was an obvious mark—a mark that lovers leave on a woman's skin when marking their territory. The fainting color around it told me that this hickey wasn't fresh, but for her to even have one was beyond baffling.

Pausing, I tried to breathe in through my nostril; however, the lacerating pain of betrayal immediately got to me. Therefore, I slowly made a grunting sound before rolling back to my side of the bed.

The moment my head hit the pillow, my lips pressed together as my arm covered my shut eyes, needing to think, needing to make sense of things.

_It couldn't have been some random man,_ I thought with alacrity. Isobel wouldn't dare violate our contract unless it was someone she couldn't resist—this man being her ex and only lover, Damen Zabat.

"Hugo?" Her voice was a small whisper, hearing her say my name only adding to the intensity of her betrayal.

So young and so innocent. How easily she had been swayed by the man she loved.

_Did she fuck him, too?_ I thought as I tasted acid on my tongue. God, I hoped not.

"Sleep well, ma belle. I'm sorry that I even tried tonight." Not wanting to talk any longer, I pushed my feelings aside and pulled her body towards me once more. This time, I meant nothing sexual but to have her close as we slept the night away, just like before. Before she acted upon her passions.

I could get past this. However, if I ever found out that she had gone beyond the usual kissing and petting, this was over for good.

Betrayals didn't bide well with me, even if the woman in question was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid my eyes upon, or that she made me feel senseless and helpless to the point of being pathetic.

Even in my pursuit of passions, that, too, had a limit.

"There's a delivery for Miss Isobel Callas. Should I give it to Benoît?" my secretary popped her head in the office, asking me a question that merely ignited my suspicions.

" _Non_. Bring it to me," I responded before my jaw locked, before grinding my teeth together as I told myself to hold it together when the only thing I wanted to do was throw something at the wall.

Delivery for Isobel _from whom?_ From her father? I hardly thought the bastard would have the guts to do such a thing. Could it have been from her friends in London? If so, why the hell didn't she tell them the address to the villa instead of the hotel? There was something that didn't match up. The moment that the _delivery_ arrived in my office, I wondered no longer.

It was a large flower arrangement. A massive, grandiose display of pink, red, white, and green blooms was set on the coffee table. I stared at it as if I was gauging an opponent before I carried on with a plan of attack.

The hickey and now this? Even a daft man could figure out what this all meant.

I grunted out a cruel laugh before I bolted out of my seat, scowling at the white envelope that had her name all over it.

Staring at the card, it took me a second to decide whether to read it or not. My possessive streak, added with my piqued curiosity, jumbled with the hurt and betrayal that Isobel struck me with. There wasn't even a moment's hesitation before I yanked the card off the vase and opened that damning thing.

* * *

_T o my Isobel,_

* * *

_S pending most of our time in bed, making love and talking about the future, made me realize that what we share is something special—and it's worth fighting for. So this is me, fighting for what we have. What we've always had._

_Your heart never lies. Not when it was beating against my own, not when you kissed me, or when you made love to me. I felt your love, Iso. Don't be afraid, I'm not going anywhere._

_I miss you, and I'll wait for however long it takes until you're back in my arms again._

* * *

_H appy 4th year anniversary, my love._

_Damen_

* * *

No wonder she didn't want anything to do with me when she got back. Though she'd moaned for a bit under my arms, there was no mistaking that she hadn't fully been enjoying any of it.

_Because_ she'd slept with him. _For how long?_ My mind rankled. The entire duration of her stay in Athens? Most probably.

First came the rage, the heated curl of jealousy that seemed to have settled in my chest, before sadness weighed above it all.

There was a part of me which had kept on hoping—holding out a torch that there was something there, something more underneath the surface—but I had been wrong. _Very wrong._

I had been too self-assured—too arrogant—to think that she'd change her mind when it came to me. That she'd follow the rest of the women who couldn't stop wanting and chasing me. That, if I just made enough effort, she'd see how I was willing to try and accommodate her needs to make her happy. But I had been a fool.

_She made me into a fool._

Just when I'd thought things were going somewhere, life had sent a reality check.

Last night, I should've confronted her with the hickey; however, I had been in denial, thinking it wasn't that big of a deal. But it fucking was!

I should be grateful that I had caught it early on so I didn't have to be a much bigger fool than I already was.

For the first time, I had no clue of where to take it from here.

## 26

# Isobel

Languidly sitting on my dresser chair while I did my nightly beauty routine, I didn't notice Hugo leaning against the wall, staring back at me in the mirror until he cleared his throat to get my attention.

"Hey, have you been here long?" I asked nervously, caught off guard by his odd behavior and the mercurial look he had. Was he that ticked off about last night? Most likely. The guy did hate the word _no_. Therefore, my reluctance at receiving him last night for his usual nightly festivities possibly hadn't pleased His Highness at all.

He didn't move from his spot, though his eyes shifted to whatever I was doing, applying creams one after the other before I did a quick application of lip balm.

"Not that long, I believe..." he trailed off and didn't say anything else until I brought my eyes towards his reflection once more. "There was a delivery for you."

"Oh." What delivery? Frowning, I told myself to breathe in calmness before speaking again. __ "Who's it from?" My tone didn't betray how much of a nervous wreck I was inside.

"There was no sender, so I was assuming you'd know who." His eyes didn't leave mine as they burned holes through me. "The item is in your bedroom, in case you were wondering."

"Oh," I meekly said as I gradually stood up with shaky legs as I pondered and feared who the delivery had come from.

Praying it wasn't from Damen, I emerged from the vast walk-in closet heading towards the bedroom. The second I saw the elaborate flowers in the vase, sitting on the coffee table, I didn't have to wonder for too long. Alas, my fears were answered. One look at it confirmed who it was from. It was the very same present I got each year.

My heart constricted at the thought of Damen truly thinking I was working at The Riviera. The lies I had weaved to keep him in the dark might haunt me, but I had to do what was best for his faith and love for me to always remain intact. Damen was a great guy, and I loved him and longed for the future he had mapped out for the both of us.

Striding over towards the blooms, my forefinger touched the soft, silky petal before I bent over and smelled their powerful, saccharine sweet scent, overwhelmed by the emotions that rolled off me. Today was supposed to be our fourth anniversary, and even though I had pushed off all his attempts in sending me anything, he still had gone ahead with his yearly flower delivery. He was a thoughtful, wonderful man, and I was lucky that he'd decided to wait for me until I was back in England.

"Did you happen to read the note?" I distractedly asked Hugo, knowing he wasn't far behind, watching me closely as I plucked the card off and stared at my name written in black, bold letters.

"No," he rasped out. "I didn't."

Thank goodness. I silently uttered a prayer of thanks, knowing very well that Hugo's personality—the possessive jealous kind—wouldn't abide well with this had he read it. Damen always poured his heart in these cards, and I would hate for Hugo to invade my privacy as well as I would truly abhor the fact that he could use it against me and my father to sever the contract. That could've been a massive maelstrom atop of all the problems I had.

Breathing out a loud sighing release, I quickly turned my head to see where Hugo was. Just as I had guessed, he was a few feet away, scrutinizing everything I did.

Beaming widely at him, I gave him thanks for bothering to bring it here. "It's from my friends. They just miss me, that's all."

He nonchalantly nodded before trying to smile back at me. "Thoughtful friends are always nice to have. You're a lucky girl. You seem to surround yourself with people who adore you very much."

"Thank you. Yeah, I guess I'm lucky if you put it that way." Slowly striding towards him until I gazed upon his dark, beautiful face, I tiptoed to kiss him softly on the lips. "Working late again tonight?"

"Something like that."

His unwelcoming attitude alerted me to make some much needed effort to please him. "Did you eat?" I questioned, but I thought better, knowing how he usually nibbled on something whilst working. "How about a nightcap? It's quite balmy outside. The fresh air might help you relieve some tension. You work too much."

"Aunt Julee moved into the penthouse suite in the hotel so she could function and work better from there, but her hourly daily visits are driving me mad. It seems to me that I don't have any patience for such trivial interest in gossip and her grinding remarks about her soon-to-be ex-husband's betrayal."

Damn, I hadn't thought of her since I had come back. I had been caught up texting and emailing back and forth with Damen and the addition of video chat surely didn't help with my concentration. Julee had a lot of people to help her with the event, so maybe I wasn't needed there. Besides, the woman had loathed me on the spot. It was difficult to be around her and breathe in her negativity without feeling less than optimistic myself.

"I had truly forgotten about your aunt and Elena. So if Julee is staying at the hotel, where's your cousin?"

"She met a guy, and they decided to sail about Italy. They claim to be in love, or so she says. Nevertheless, this is typical Elena behavior." He shrugged, as if it wasn't so boggling to have his cousin depart mid-summer season.

Free-spirited and did as she pleased, I admired that about her. But at the same time, I envied that, too, because I couldn't freely express myself without repercussions. Julee might be a total bitch, but it was apparent that she loved her daughter. My mother, on the other hand, was too busy pining for her husband to even notice that she had children of her own to take care of. And as for my father, well, there wasn't much to say about him other than less colorful attributes that he ceaselessly reminded us of whenever he could.

"So are you up for a nightcap with me, or are you too exhausted to do any of that?" I looked at him expectantly, hoping that he'd say yes so I could at least make up for my less than spectacular attitude last night.

"Of course..." he sighed before finally giving my forehead a whisper-soft kiss on it. "I'll meet you downstairs. Don't make me wait long. I've thought of you all day."

His blatant honesty melted my very guilty heart. As much as I wanted to tell him the truth, I knew I couldn't for fear of unleashing something that would be out of my control and would only summon my father back in life. No, I just couldn't.

"See you in a bit." I waved him off before almost running towards the walk-in closet. With Damen's letter in hand, I stashed it in one of my drawers so I could read it when I had privacy. Then I slid off my robe and chose a simple, cotton dress that wasn't too simple yet showed enough skin to entice Hugo's eyes.

Smelling like fresh citrus blooms and face free of any artifice, I strolled out of my room and went to go find him out on the veranda with a few candles lighting up the small, intimate garden settee. Different types of cheeses, a few selections of grapes, castelvetrano olives, and dried fruits were lavishly spread out on a platter. Vintage champagne chilled in the ice bucket, bottles of red wine, and other, harder and much pricier liquor lined about. The cozy ambiance, the sound of the soft waves hitting the shore, the faint noise of cicadas in the background, and the stoic man with his back to me as he stared at the sea before him, surely made these intimate surroundings... so much more.

"Hey," I called out to him, hoping he'd change back to the sweet, seductive man from last night. At the same time, I knew wishing for it would be a bad idea as well. My situation was beyond sticky and complicated. It wasn't just me or Damen that would be affected if things went awry. I had Yannis and my mother to think about; subsequently, I best keep my thoughts and priorities aligned, or else my father's wrath, the next it lashes out, would truly be unforgiving.

Compromise.

The word seemed to have overused itself when it came to me. However, it was the only thing that would make sense out of everything I had done as of late.

My eyes wandered about the alcoholic bottles as I contemplated what to drink first. I noticed Hugo had moved from his stance and was making his way towards me.

"I hope you don't mind my dress." I slightly blushed when I realized how informal I looked, not like what he was used to, and opposed to his dapper self. Then again, whatever he wore, he never failed to appear as though the clothes were meant for his body. His easy confidence and magnetic appeal were a persistent lure to any woman's appreciative glances.

His eyes... Though I wasn't staring at them, I felt their intensity as they scrutinized my simple outfit, which truly didn't help with my embarrassment. "The dress?" his eyebrow rose, slightly inquiring. "It's lovely, _but_ if you're unhappy with it, you're more than welcome to take it off and slowly strip before me."

"Like that last time, you mean?" I added, a little breathless as I recalled the night where he watched me strip naked before he intimately touched me in places.

_For heaven's sake, Isobel, get it together!_ I reprimanded myself when the familiar stirrings of Hugo's magic started to work on me. The second I realized what I had just done, Damen's loving face appeared before my very eyes, making me snap out of my trance.

"You were scared of me then, were you not?" His question threw me off a little.

Was it obvious that I hadn't wanted to go through with it that night? Maybe so. Maybe that was why he had changed his mind with me, too, and thrown that two-week challenge, which seemed to have been unsuccessful.

"I was..."

The memory seemed so long ago.

"Champagne?" He gestured towards the iced bottle before giving me a pointed look. "Or red? White? _Cognac_?"

"Champagne is fine. Thanks."

As I watched him through my lashes, he carefully poured me a drink in a crystal flute before handing it to me. After pouring his own, he then faced me, drink in hand, before he slowly lifted his. "So, what should we toast for tonight? Best wishes? Anything congratulatory perhaps?"

"Not on my part."

"Not on mine, either," he mused. "So what should we toast to?"

A universal question that wasn't so hard to respond to. "Here's to good health and good luck?"

"I suppose that could work," he murmured before raising his glass, wishing me well as I did the same.

I couldn't pinpoint what it was, but something was off. Maybe it was the way he was looking at me tonight that got me edgy, or the way he simply looked too good to be real. I couldn't seem to stray my eyes away from him. _Had he always been this gorgeous?_ I wondered in frustration.

He cleared his throat before addressing me again. "Fancy a quick dip in the sea?"

I laughed at his question since the last time had almost gotten me killed from extreme fright. "I think I'm fine for now, though I do promise to let you know if I'm up for it later."

His eyes twinkled, as if he, too, was remembering my major humiliation. "How about dancing? Fancy doing that with me?"

Dancing sounded brilliant compared to being mauled and surrounded by sea mammals or predators lurking about. "Dancing sounds perfect."

He nodded before producing a remote out of nowhere. Then he pressed a button and a soft, mellow music filtered through the background.

Downing the rest of my drink, I let out a small groan before I made my way towards him. Really, there was something gravitating about him, the pull was much more powerful than the last time. I wished I could easily ask him what it was, but I thought better of it.

Placing his empty glass on the nearest flat surface, he gently pulled me into his arms, placing one hand on the side of my hips. The music had a throaty, male voice singing in the background, adding a touch of melancholy and romance in the air.

"What's the name of this song?" Lifting my chin to meet his gaze, I was instantly overwhelmed by this sudden need to kiss him.

"La Vie en Rose," he rasped out, making me stare directly at his lips, which were looking much more enticing as the seconds ticked away.

"I like it..." I trailed off, still unglued from the sight of his lips.

_"Ma belle,"_ he groaned out in such a way that made me yearn for things I shouldn't be even thinking. "Did you think of me at all?"

Yes and no, depending on the circumstances. "Sometimes, when I wasn't preoccupied with personal things," I lied lightly, hoping that my answer would suffice his curiosity.

"I'm sure you were busy with your mother," he thoughtfully added before I gave a small nod, a little ashamed of my lies.

"Yeah, it was a bit chaotic. Thanks for understanding."

Hugo released a sigh before chastely kissing my forehead. "I do understand. I really do."

For the rest of the night, we barely spoke, simply dancing the night away. He didn't release me until it was time for us to head back inside the house. Just as expected, he came to sleep in my bedroom. And just as I'd predicted, he tried to get me naked as well, but this time, my reluctance in doing any intimacy with him was quite obvious compared to last night.

"Hugo, I'm sorry, but I can't," I rushed out, feeling mighty frustrated that I was turned on and wanted him to go through with it. Yet I just fucking couldn't do it. "It's that time of the month." Another lie sprung out of nowhere, which was more viable if I thought hard about it. "I hope you don't mind." I couldn't even look him in the eye because I knew, without a doubt, that it hurt him.

"I see," was all he said before turning off the light.

Instead of acting like a complete jackass, I was surprised when I felt him hold me, barely whispering "dream sweet" into my ear before I fell asleep, dreaming about him.

## 27

# Isobel

The ingenious idea of being on my period gave me a short-term hiatus from Hugo's sexual persistence. For about a week, he would come home and sleep with me, holding me close without even trying to do anything, not even kissing.

At first, the relief for having his understanding and withdrawal was a blessing. However, as the days went by without him trying _anything_ , it got me a tad worried. Even engaging him in conversations about how his day went or pointless and useless subjects that usually were a laugh between us back in the day didn't seem to rouse any spark from him. Hugo became detached, yet he didn't push me away in bed and still sought my warmth, holding me close every night without fail.

After the week ended with me worried instead of the other way around, I thought to myself that I needed to at least make an effort. Maybe if I could give him what he used to get from me, maybe it would help ease his grumpiness. Although I vowed not to initiate anything further with Hugo, I couldn't help feeling awful since he was more than entitled to take what should've been his. Yet, his respectful nature had prevailed, giving me a choice. A decision. If I wanted to have him or not.

With my decision already made, it was noon when I summoned one of his drivers in the villa to take me to see Hugo at The Riviera.

The drive wasn't a long one, and the moment I got there, I immediately headed straight for his office, deciding I wanted to take him out to eat. However, when I got there, it seemed that he'd just came back from one with _Sherry_.

I spotted them the second I got out of the elevator. They were strolling about, laughing at something as she held on to his arm while he had his hand almost cupping her pert bottom. The scene before me was so unexpected the emotions that welled out of me truly were a surprise. In a matter of seconds, I felt hot with intense jealousy racking me. The feeling was so acute I had a hard time breathing, and it felt as if my body was shaking, or maybe it truly was shaking. I wasn't sure. Everything seemed to be happening at an alarming rate, and I couldn't comprehend how to function.

I wasn't his anything, so I wasn't sure how to approach them, or maybe I should just let them be. I could go back to the villa and pretend that I hadn't gone out of my way to see him, and maybe pick up where things had halted before I left for Athens.

My back and forth of weighing things went on a screeching halt when I saw Sherry's hand disappear somewhere in his nether region, quite possibly on his dick. What enraged me most was Hugo's look of pure delight. They were going to fuck... in his office. The sudden realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and without thought, I paced towards them, needing to put an end to their sordid display of wretchedness where any of his employees could easily witness if they pried hard enough.

"Hugo," I uttered his name in such a painful fashion I almost felt faint with it.

He heard me call out to him, and the moment our eyes connected, he pulled Sherry to whisper into her ear while I stopped in my tracks, staring at them both.

In my stillness, I caught a different side of Hugo. There was tenderness even in the way he was speaking to her or how he was holding her close to him. I hadn't witnessed the kind of bond he had with her and Chantel.

The curling feeling in my gut worsened when I saw him give her a chaste kiss on the lips before she bestowed him one of her flirty smiles then moved away, sashaying her bountiful assets as she headed my way. While she passed me, she granted me a small, mischievous smile before entering the elevator.

I stared after her as jealousy doubled when I realized that I would probably never be as confident as her and couldn't entice a man by merely blinking. _How long has he been seeing her again?_ I thought sadly.

"Isobel," he called out to me, his face giving nothing away.

Swallowing whatever I could muster to moisten the dryness of my throat, I forced myself to shake out of my trance and move towards where he was patiently waiting, holding the door open to his office. I knew without even speaking to him that something had shifted between us. Even with this realization, the second I passed him and smelled his scent, there was something inside me that snapped.

"Are you fucking her?" I shot him the question even before he had the chance to shut the door properly. Once it was secured, he took his jolly time to stroll about the room, making himself a drink, while I stood there, simmering slowly in my own twisted and unexpected sprout of jealousy—the jealousy that had taken me aback because, before today, I hadn't been aware I felt anything for him other than sexually. Maybe there was more to it than I had let on, but I wasn't going to ponder it this instant. Maybe later on when I had the chance to truly see the reason behind it all.

Hugo made an effort to clear his throat, biding his time to finish the contents of his glass before he slammed it hard against the black granite counterpane. "Would it matter if I did or didn't?" The lack of emotion in his voice gave me a clue of what kind of mood he was in, and I certainly didn't have to guess. He wasn't at all happy about my interference.

I gave him a hard look, seriously displeased by his lack of caring about the subject. "Are you?" I pressed on, incredulous. "You are, aren't you? It's because I've been less engaging lately, and you just couldn't help yourself."

He made a dry laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're one to talk. You're the one who broke one of the rules. The _first_ rule, in fact."

Horror, shame, and embarrassment at my naiveté for being so stupid all along washed over me.

"You read the letter," I gasped in shock, wondering why he'd never said anything to me. "You've known all along."

Hugo looked away, but before he did so, I caught a glimpse of him wincing. After all the shame and humiliation, another emotion sprouted...

Fear.

My actions had repercussions, and since I was already caught in my own web of lies, Hugo had every right to revoke everything.

"Hugo..." I pleaded as I slowly moved towards him, but he stepped back, not wanting me to come near him. His blatant rejection heightened the fear in me. "If you're thinking of voiding the contract—"

"I'm not," he interrupted, giving a halt to my doubts and worries.

"God, thank you so much," I rushed out as I thoughtlessly ran up to him, wrapping my arms around his neck for a hug before something possessed me to try to kiss him.

Hugo immediately stilled, getting ahold of my arms to stop me from doing anything with a death grip on my limbs. "Please, don't insult me, Isobel," he grunted out the words laced with hate.

Ever since I had come back from Athens, I had truly avoided seeing anything that pertained to him. However, at this moment, the blinds were down, the cast was off, and for the first time since I'd betrayed his loyalty, I saw the anger he had hidden away from me.

Seeing it with my own eyes merely heightened the fear and fright inside me, even though he'd given me his word that he wouldn't void the contract because of my indiscretion.

He couldn't even look at me, really look at me like he used to.

"Hugo, you should've said something..." I made a choking sound, feeling wretched all over again. "All this time—every night you held me—yet you never uttered a word about it."

"What was there to say, Isobel?" There was bleakness in his voice, as if he was shutting me off already. "You made your decision, and I just had to regard that."

"I'm sorry," I uttered with sincerity. "You've been so kind to me, even though you have every right to do as you pleased, but you were generous enough to give me freedom to choose and make decisions."

I gazed at him, waiting for him to say something. Instead of speaking, he moved towards his large, luxurious desk. Reaching it, he then decided to open a drawer, pulling out something from it. The manila envelope looked daunting as he held it before him. He seemed deep in thought as he pressed his lips together.

"I meant to give this to you at a later time, but now that you're here, I think this is as good as any."

A sheen of perspiration coated my skin as I froze in momentary dread of what that envelope contained. My heart galloped at an alarming rate when I saw him move towards me, stopping before me with a great amount of space still between us before handing me the damning thing.

"This is for you."

"What's in it?" I asked in a small, frightened voice.

He gestured towards the envelope that was now in my possession. "Open it and you'll see."

Licking my chafed lips, the whisper of doubts in my head ceased to exist the moment I found what was inside the ominous envelope. It had a bank account under my name with the same amount that my father owed, with a seal from The Royal Bank of Scotland. In it, I also located a bill that stated that the rest of my school tuition was already paid for.

Gripping the paper in my hand, aghast at his generosity, even after all I had done or not done to him, made me feel like a bloody heel. "You paid my tuition? What's with this bank account with all this money in it?" I shook my head in confusion. "I'm confused." But that was before I found the last item, a piece of heavy weight paper on the very bottom of the pile, a deed to a flat in London, fully paid and with my name attached to it. "What the bloody Hell is all this, Hugo?" My eyes watered as I stared at him in horror. His kindness was killing me inside.

"You've fulfilled the contract, Isobel."

"But it's only been about two months... I don't understand, Hugo." How had I fulfilled it when we hadn't done anything? Besides, he was handing me all these things in the envelope that were so much more than what my father owed him.

He strode over to the glass wall that overlooked the scenic Monaco and its heart-warming beauty, biding time until he finally said, "You're free to leave." He let the words hang in the air as I fought for my brain to comprehend what he'd just said. "Let's put this behind us. It's time to stop the games and get on with our lives. If you have any problems, contact my secretary for anything you need—food, money, school. There should be a card in the envelope with her contact number. You can reach her anytime for whatever you need."

_Money? His secretary? What was I, a charity case?_

"B-b-but..." I stuttered, thoughts disarray from his immediate decision of cutting ties with me. "After all this—what we shared—you don't even want to stay in touch, do you?" The realization hit me to the core. That's why his secretary's number was attached to begin with. He had thought this out while he held me every night. He had been slowly letting me go without me knowing it. It was cruel. He should've said something at least. _"Why?"_ I asked, not sure what I was truly asking him.

"You were forced into this. Now, you're free." He shrugged, still not willing to spin around and face me. He seemed content in staring at the world below his feet while I simply gazed at his back and his beautiful, handsome reflection in the glass. "Why question any of this? You're free to go, Isobel. Why are you even here, spouting off questions when you should've run out of here, packed the rest of your things in the villa, and caught the first flight out of here?"

He was right; I should've done those things. And maybe I would've had I known he was setting me free so soon. However, since I'd had no clue when I woke up today, thinking that maybe we could compromise on his needs once more, I was, of course, left reeling, left with a lot of questions I wasn't ready to face yet.

"You said you wanted me," I wondered out loud as I tried to patch everything together in my slowly registering brain.

"Everything's changed."

Naïve I might be, but I definitely wasn't daft. Of course everything had changed. But there was a part of me that wanted to hope that maybe he'd forgive me for my indiscretion and for maybe hurting his pride and male ego.

"How about if we stay in touch?" My light suggestion went unanswered; as a result, I pressed on with the caveat, _"As friends?"_

He snorted, finding my idea a bit absurd for his standards. "I don't think that's possible. I choose my friends wisely, and since trust and loyalty isn't really your strongest suit, I'll pass."

His words stung. They went straight to my heart. I hadn't been aware his opinion about me actually mattered that much, but hearing him say it out loud made me feel unbelievably tiny. I'd let him down badly, and there was no way in hell he would ever consider me for anything, not even as a friend. Ouch.

"Hugo." Tears started to form in my eyes. "You can't just let me leave like this. We need to talk... please."

"You're wasting precious time, Isobel. Besides, this is a working day for me; I don't have time to spare."

He was shutting me down, and I wasn't ready to go yet. My stubbornness kicked in, needing him to give me a little time.

Wiping my tears away, my soft sobs didn't do anything for him. Hugo remained distant, still staring at the view below him. "Why do I feel like this is goodbye?"

"Because it is," he confirmed with ease.

He'd had seven days to come to terms with any of this, yet I'd barely had an hour and he simply wanted me to hop on and pretend as if he and I hadn't shared anything—no intimacy... nothing. His callousness wasn't a side I was accustomed to. Being in the forefront of his brashness was quite a painful thing to adhere.

" _So that's it?_ You got bored with me and now you're ready to have Sherry and Chantel or whomever you fancy take my place?"

He remained silent.

His detachment shook me mad. _"Answer me, damn you!"_ I screeched at him, wanting him to feel this hollow pain that was eating me alive.

After a full second, he finally spun around to face me, bearing his usual mercurial self. Truly unreadable. "I have to go. My plane's waiting," he simply informed me like I hadn't just screamed at him. He was the epitome of calmness, while I was a raging inferno.

"I'm not ready to say goodbye," I threw at him, meaning every single word of it. "I feel like there's more to say. Don't leave like this. Please."

"All you've ever wanted is your freedom to go back home, to your friends." His eyes focused on me with a look of indifference, or was that disgust? I wasn't so sure which one. "You're free from any contractual obligations," he pointed out once more, highlighting my freedom. "What more do you _want_ , Isobel?"

"I want more time," I said without thought. "I know I've been distant and temperamental. It's because of Damen—" I tried to reason with him, maybe show him a little of how much torment I'd been putting myself through to make him understand, but he wasn't having any of it.

"That's enough, Isobel."

Shaking my head, I was adamant to stay. "But I'm not ready to go—"

"Isobel..."

"Please, I'm begging you."

"No. This is it, Isobel." He stared into me, making me feel as if he'd reached into my heart with his bare hand and squeezed it until it no longer functioned. "This is goodbye."

With my tears, pleas, and heartache, I put a piece of myself out on display. "If I wasn't in love with him, I could've given you what you wanted the most, but I can't betray my heart. I hope you can see that. I've already caused enough damage that I'm not sure I can repair," I sobbed. "Please forgive me. I wish I had given you a chance."

He simply remained still, eyes flickering over my face, gazing, memorizing as I stared at him with tears slowly steaming down my face.

"Am I ever going to see you again?" Maybe in a year, maybe in two... ten years... I wasn't sure when, but I would love to see him again.

"We end here, Isobel. We won't be seeing each other again. I'll make sure of it." When he unexpectedly reached out with his thumb, not to wipe my tears, but to press it on my bottom lip, it felt as though he was searing it with something. Maybe he was saying his goodbye. He did once like to kiss me.

"Hugo," I cried out, needing him to reconsider.

And when I saw something pass his eyes, I thought he'd change his mind. Instead, he merely left a kiss on my forehead, sealing his goodbye.

"Never let your father, or anyone for that matter, dictate your fate again." He made a smile that broke my heart. "Go on, ma belle, follow your heart."

It was his words that made me choke on the ones I wanted to tell him, the truth in his eyes clearly evident. However, what gutted me most was the fact that he'd made sure I was taken care of before leaving me. It was his kindness—even after all I had done to him—that ate me alive. How could he still be so generous when all I'd ever done was be a total bitch to him?

As I stared after the closed door where I'd seen him give me the last glimpse of farewell, I knew there was no way I would ever forget him. He'd dismissed me when I was ready to open up to him again, which had only left me hanging with my thoughts, needs, regrets, and unfulfilled longing that he roused within me. It was buried deep within, but I knew it thrived, waiting to be unleashed.

As farewells went, Hugo Xavier did know how to make an impression, making sure I had been taught a lesson.

A lesson that I'd know inside out soon—that being left behind when things felt unfinished between two people would have its own demons to contend with. Haunting dreams would soon make me question everything I had once believed.

# The Encounter Trilogy

### Now available

**Read The Two-Chapter Preview of Unhinged Attached below**

**Bartered**

* * *

**Unhinged**

* * *

**Vanquished**

www.PamelaAnnBooks.com/the-encounter-trilogy

# Unhinged Preview

### The Encounter Trilogy: Book 2

### Chapter 1

**H ugo**

* * *

"Hugo."

I heard my name being called from across the hall. It was from a voice spoken with familiarity, causing pain for me to hear the certain catch in her throat. Isobel.

Refraining from a sigh, I searched for her and felt something hit me directly in my chest the moment our eyes connected with each other.

Sherry was still next to me, at least momentarily. Pulling her close, I cut my eye contact from Isobel before whispering softly into Sherry's ear, "Let me take care of this. I shall be with you shortly, chéri."

She merely gave an understanding nod.

Without thinking of my actions, I planted a chaste kiss on her lips, earning me a bliss-filled smile before she slowly moved away to make herself scarce. The moment she was out of my line of vision, Isobel took over, filling me with dread and all the unholy things I hadn't felt before. It was frightening and humbling at the same time. Still, with all these emotions threatening my stance, I knew one thing, and confusion wasn't one it.

Jealousy etched her beautiful, rose-tinted cheeks, yet that didn't faze me. I had given this woman a chance, and what had she done with it?

Nothing. _Rien._ She did not do one damn thing. Well, not with me, anyway.

Jealousy was a vile thing to exist amongst us humans. It was a powerful emotion, one that wreaked havoc in one's mind. The moment it planted itself in your system, there was no way to vanquish it. It simply became a part of you. Like breathing, like living, you became accustomed to it. Naturally.

This woman, I had openly welcomed, and she had bestowed something ugly in return. Deep down, I knew I couldn't—shouldn't—blame her for it. The blame lay upon me, knowing quite well that the chances of seducing her wouldn't turn in my favor. Alas, I took a chance, and nothing came of it.

"Isobel." Masking my emotions, I became a man of indifference as I graciously waited with an open door that led towards my office.

She moved towards me, seeming confused about my attitude towards her. The moment she was a hairsbreadth away, she threw me an accusing look with those powerful, violet blue eyes.

"Are you fucking her?" she spat out, as if it was the vilest thing she had ever uttered.

Taking a calm stance, I finished shutting the door without glancing at her. Her question wasn't irrelevant. She knew I had kept two other women before her, so she shouldn't have the gall to sound so accusing. Those weeks I had granted her my all without the other women to distract me had been a grave mistake, one I would never commit again.

I took the time to gather my tumultuous emotions and thoughts as I strolled about the room before I made myself a drink. All the while, I noted how shallower her breaths had become, how her temper intensified as she watched me with condemning scrutiny.

I had resorted back to my old lifestyle since Isobel hadn't been prepared to give me what I wanted. I had to, or I would have become obsessed, and wherever and whenever women were concerned, obsession couldn't be afforded. The price was too high to pay. Yet, even though I knew what was at stake, I simply couldn't resist being tempted to skirt around the bloody situation, merely dying to taste, to simply savor what it was like to want something so beautiful, something that tugged at my guts, something that burned my heart and set my loins on fire. Isobel had become a weakness, but no more.

_No more_ , I silently screamed in my head.

I devoured the drink in one gulp, welcoming the slow, steady burn.

"Would it matter if I _was_ or _wasn't_?" I threw the question at her, uncaring if the unmasked hurt shone in those eyes I had stared into for hours on end.

Even if I was willing to risk everything, she had lied, betraying me and my trust. She had valued me so little that she had willingly given herself away to another man while she was under contract. Worse still, she had done so then writhed and moaned my name afterward while I showered and worshipped her body with my touch, with my kiss.

Betrayal was something I couldn't live with. Once my trust was lost, it was gone forever.

My lack of response simply darkened her mood even more. "Are you?" she growled like an injured kitten. "You are, _aren't you?_ It's because I've been less engaging lately, and you just couldn't help yourself."

She was less engaging lately? If at all. Did she even notice how I had looked at her since? Of course not.

Isobel was lost in her dreamy world, possibly recalling her tryst with the rotten man. I had too much pride to show how her actions had dented my ego. Then again, she hadn't cared; hopping from my bed to her past lover's then back to mine. I doubt she even regretted it, because if she did, she'd have done something to make me feel worthy of her.

_Merde._ There was no point in any of this.

Barking a dry, cruel laugh, I shook my head, wondering if she saw how wounded I had been. "You're one to talk. You're the one who broke one of the rules. The _first_ rule, in fact."

Her once indignant face turned into confusion then horror before mortification settled in. "You read the letter," she gasped in shock. "You've known all along."

Of course I had, and what a day that was. I kept telling myself that she was innocent, and I wasn't worthy of her at all. Nevertheless, the betrayal ate at me. So much so that I was slowly pulling away from her, gradually and steadily, until I knew I could fully let her go. I was sure, in her own world of confusion, had she given me a little attention, she would have noticed the difference. She hadn't, though. There wasn't much to be said; therefore, I was to continue on to where I thought would suit us best—being apart.

"Hugo..." Her small, pleading voice did something to me, but when she tried to come towards me, I had to take a step back, needing space from her.

I simply didn't trust myself to have her so close to me.

"If you're thinking of voiding the contract—" she started saying, granting me a glimpse of where her train of thought was going.

"I'm not," I interjected harshly.

She blew out a breath, relieved that she wasn't going to be paying a price for her betrayal. "God, thank you so much," she rushed out before she mindlessly ran up to me, surprising me as she wrapped her arms around my neck before giving me a passionate kiss.

Her kiss was so unexpected that my ears started to ring, as if to warn me that I was in danger of making a fool out of myself again.

Steeling myself against her, I slowly took hold of her arms before backing away from her. "Please, don't insult me, Isobel," I grunted out, unveiling how her recklessness hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Hugo, you should've said something..." She was getting choked up, but as much as I fought with myself to comfort her, my anger prevailed. "All this time—every night you held me—you never uttered a word about it."

"What was there to say, Isobel?" I asked her calmly as I recalled how painfully aware I was of her, aching to be with her, each time she had slept next to me, and she had remained unperturbed, ignorant of this wretched desire I had for her. "You made your decision, and I had to respect that."

There were a lot of women who could take her place, ones who would value what I would give them in return. Isobel was young and in love with another man. It was best she got on with her life, wherever that might take her.

"I'm sorry. You've been so kind to me, even though you have every right to do as you please, but you were generous enough to give me freedom to choose and make decisions." She was gazing at me like an injured deer, wanting some comfort, wanting something from me.

I was tempted to touch her, but before I did so, my mind flashed something despicable before my very eyes—Isobel, naked, laughing, and giddily happy as she let her lover touch her, fuck her until she was out of her wits.

_Bastard!_

Grounding my teeth together, I strolled towards my desk, needing to be away from her so I could think clearly. Then I reached into the second compartment drawer and took out the envelope that had been sitting on my desk, dauntingly waiting for the right time to dispense it. Yesterday, tomorrow, today—it didn't matter. I had made up my mind, and since she was already here, right now was fine. It was time to the cut the strings and be free of each other.

"I meant to give this to you at a later time, but now that you're here, I think this is as good a time as any," I said, barely glancing at her.

She looked pale and nervous, as if she was waiting to be sentenced.

I cleared my throat before going towards her to hand her the envelope. "This is for you."

"What's in it?" she asked in a small, frightened voice before taking it. She grasped it as if she was holding a diamond that had a bomb attached to it, drawn and fascinated yet knowing it was a thing that would end something beautiful.

"Open it and you'll see." My eyes lingered on her hands that clutched my last gift to her. Despite dealing with her rejection of me, I knew she still needed me to help her in certain aspects of her life. I was letting her go, but not without making sure she was going to be okay, that she wouldn't need her father or any other man to dictate her future. Her life. It was a gift I hoped she would appreciate. Also, in some perverted way, it was a way to ensure that she wouldn't ever forget me.

The moment she opened it, horror and confusion ran across her beautiful face. She shook her head as if she didn't understand why I would do such a noble thing after what she had done to me.

I had wondered the same thing for quite some time, but I knew in my heart that, if something were to happen to her, I wouldn't forgive myself. Likewise, if I could prevent any of it with a kind gesture, then my conscience was clear. I didn't want to look back years from now and wonder what had happened to her. I needed to make sure she would succeed in life. I had no doubt in my heart that she would. She had it in her—motivation, the hunger and thirst for a better life.

She gripped the paper in her shaky hand, her eyes rimmed red, grateful and shocked at my generosity. "You paid my tuition? What's with the bank account with all this money in it?" She shook her head in bewilderment. "I'm confused," she barely uttered the words before something caught her eye, a piece of heavy weight paper on the very bottom of the pile, a deed to a flat in London, fully paid with her name glaringly attached to it. "What the bloody hell is all this, Hugo?" she choked out as tears threatened to spill down her face.

Something glowed inside me. "You've fulfilled the contract, Isobel." I knew I had done the right thing. Letting her go to live her life was the right thing to do.

She shook her head, disagreeing with me. "But it's only been about two months. I don't understand, Hugo."

I doubt she ever would. I couldn't grasp it myself, but I knew this must be done.

Striding over to the floor to ceiling glass wall that overlooked the majestic French Riviera and its heart-stopping beauty, I took it all in before expelling a slow, steady breath to address her.

"You're free to leave." The words hung in the air, and then I heard her take a sharp breath before pushing myself to finish what I was trying to say. "Let's put this behind us. It's time to stop the games and get on with our lives. If you have any problems, contact my secretary for anything you need—food, money, school. There should be a card in the envelope with her contact number. You can reach her anytime for whatever you need."

There was no turning back now.

"B-b-but..." she stuttered as she tried to gather her thoughts, letting my final words sink in. "After all this— _what we shared_ —you don't even want to stay in touch?"

At least I could say she knew me well enough to know that, yes, I had no qualms in cutting communication with her. What for? So she could fill me in on her love life? I thought not. The torture must end here.

" _Why?_ " she demanded, as if I had slapped and insulted her when I didn't respond to her question.

"You were forced into this. Now, you're free." I merely shrugged, not wanting to see her and her tear-stained face. Was I scared to do so because something might shift inside me, and I would change my mind? Yes.

Even though I was saying my goodbyes, the fire she had lit inside of me still burned willing and true. I couldn't risk falling back into her beauty, entranced by her naiveté and enchanting smiles that made my heart speed a little faster. Instead, I regarded the sea below me, steeling myself as I tried to find the stillness inside me amidst the chaotic mess that was threatening to come out of me like a shaken champagne bottle that was ready to expel its cork.

"Why question any of this? You're free to go, Isobel. Why are you even here, spouting off questions, when you should've run out of here, packed the rest of your things in the villa, and caught the first flight out of here?"

Silence filled the air.

The moment she spoke again, I felt like she gutted me alive. "You said you wanted me."

"Everything's changed." Wanting and desiring her would never ebb away. It would forever be a battle for me. I had acknowledged that long ago.

"How about if we stay in touch?" Her light suggestion went unanswered; as a result, she pressed on with the caveat, " _As friends?_"

She wanted to stay friends? What an absurd idea.

"I don't think that's possible. I choose my friends wisely, and since trust and loyalty isn't really your strong suit, I'll pass."

"Hugo." Desperation laced her voice. "You can't just let me leave like this. We need to talk _... please_."

"You're wasting precious time, Isobel. Besides, this is a working day for me; I don't have time to spare."

From the glass reflection, I could see the tears spilling freely down her face. Each tear tore me apart, but I knew what I had to do. I had never known the meaning of hard goodbyes. Well, I did now.

Nervously wiping her tears away, she gave me a pleading look. "Why do I feel like this is goodbye?" she whispered in a small, broken voice.

"Because it is."

" _So that's it?_ You got bored with me, and now you're ready to have Sherry and Chantel or whomever you fancy take my place?" she lashed back, obviously needing a reaction from me.

I remained still, unwilling to have a duel of words. Not only was it hard not to soothe her worries away, but it was better not to say anything at all when I had nothing to offer her or even try to argue my point in dismissing her from her contract.

My apparent detachment seemed to have incensed her more.

" _Answer me, damn you!_ " she screeched.

Expelling a ragged breath, my nostrils flared as I gathered my bearings before I finally had the courage to spin around and face the woman I had once adored. There was half a second when I was tempted to gather her into my arms so she didn't have to feel wretchedly guilty about what she had done, but thank heavens that maddening urge was fleeting. It left me the second my eyes caught the envelope she still clutched.

"I have to go. My plane's waiting," I cautiously informed her, not wanting to waste any more time with her trying to dispel me from my decision.

Isobel immediately became distraught. "I'm not ready to say goodbye," she threw at me, sounding like she meant every single word. "I feel like there's more to say. Don't leave like this. Please."

_She took a lover._

_She took a bloody lover while she vowed and promised not to do so! No. No! I will not allow her back_. Especially not after she carried on about her time with me as if she hadn't betrayed me at all. I could not forgive her for that.

"All you've ever wanted is your freedom to go back home to your friends."

She had acted thoughtlessly, with little conscience to the promise she had made to me. She had valued me so little that she had taken a chance. There was nothing left to be said.

"You're free from any contractual obligations," I curtly pointed out, highlighting her glorious freedom. "What more do you _want_ , Isobel?"

I had granted her more than she had ever dreamed of. She should walk away with her head high and leave me be. Why was she so adamant about keeping in touch and not ready to let go? She had taken a chance, and that chance had a price—me leaving. How hard was that to comprehend?

"I want more time," she openly begged with her voice and her eyes. "I know I've been distant and temperamental. It's because of Damen—"

"That's enough, Isobel," I almost screamed at her. _How dare she say his name to my face? Merde!_ The very mention of his name set me on the verge of madness. My cool composure was threatening to crack. I must leave before I made a fool of myself.

"But I'm not ready to go—"

"Isobel..."

"Please, I'm begging you."

I stepped as close to her as my restraint allowed before staring into those beautiful depths of hers for the last time. "No. This is it, Isobel." My gaze momentarily softened the second it connected with hers, noting her face as if studying a beautiful painting. I would never forget this face, those eyes that reached into my soul. I shan't forget. "This is goodbye."

_Goodbye, ma belle_.

More tears pooled in her eyes, persistent. "If I wasn't in love with him, I could've given you what you wanted the most, but I can't betray my heart. I hope you can see that. I've already caused enough damage that I'm not sure I can repair," she sobbed with anguish. "Please forgive me. I wish I had given you a chance."

She stared at me with tears slowly streaming down her face as I languished from her heartfelt words. Her blinding beauty and how closely I had been to happiness, how she was the only woman I had felt like coming home to. That feeling of pure bliss and that false feeling of security—Isobel had granted me that. For a time, she truly had. And I would never forget it. Maybe it would be the closest thing I had to the real thing. Who knew anymore?

"Am I ever going to see you again?" her question broke into my thoughts while I gazed at her pensively.

She desperately needed hope that, whatever it was we had nurtured between us, it wasn't over. However, I wasn't one for false pretenses, and there was no point in beginning today. As much as I adored her, I would not bestow that false sense of promise just to comfort her.

"We end here, Isobel. We won't be seeing each other again. I'll make sure of it."

Unexpectedly, I surprised myself when my thumb reached out to brush against her luscious bottom lip. How often had I nipped and sucked on this, desperately wanting her, all of her? Countless times, I had ached for her.

"Hugo," she cried out, pressing herself against me, as if an invitation to take what I wanted from her.

My resolve was slipping, but the thought of her letting Damen, her lover, freely take what she had denied me made the burn sear deeper into my soul. What she had done couldn't be undone, and I'd had no part in it. It was all her. Now she must reap the rewards of her actions.

Gently glancing at her, I gave her a painstaking kiss on her forehead, sealing everything she and I had shared together. She deserved to be happy. Even if it wasn't with me, she deserved it and then some.

"Never let your father—or anyone, for that matter—dictate your fate again." It took every ounce in me to give her an encouraging smile, but I did so without breaking. "Go on, ma belle, follow your heart."

Without another glance, I spun around to leave, heading towards the door and the future that awaited me.

For such a little time, she had marked herself in my life in a way that granted me a gift as well as leaving me cursed. It was a gift that made me open myself to someone, fogging my mind with thoughts of happiness that I had never thought of achieving, let alone experience with anyone.

Of course, as they said, all good things must come to an end. And so, I must carry on with my life as if this one particular woman hadn't come into in in a whirlwind, breaking my barriers, unbeknownst to me.

### Chapter 2

_Two months later_

_London_

**Isobel**

"Must you obsess about this man for another day, Iso?" Claire asked while giving me a glaringly obvious look that said she clearly thought I had lost my mind, yet again.

I wasn't obsessing about _him_ , or was I? Maybe...

Okay, possibly I was going a little overboard with my online stalking syndrome; however, it was the only way I could keep track with news and events regarding the French man. To me, this had been a daily occurrence since I had left Monaco, and it had been a hard habit to break. I was hungry for any information. Anything and everything related to the formidable Hugo Xavier, I wanted to know, or sleep would evade me.

It had been eight long weeks since I last saw Hugo walk out of his office in Monaco. He left a massive, gaping hole, a hole that since stretched into something I couldn't fill. Nothing. There was nothing to fill this slowly aching void he had left in me.

Even though I was back in school, living in the apartment Hugo had graciously gifted me, nothing comforted me: not my goals, not Damen, though he tried as he might, and not even the company of my friends whom I highly adored.

I had asked Claire if she wanted to stay with me since the flat was a two-bedroom, and she happily obliged, wanting to move into a lavishly decorated place compared to her old, shared flat with four other schoolmates. It was big enough for two people and then some. It was spacious with a massive Michelin decorated kitchen and a nice balcony that overlooked the great city of London below. Besides, I needed someone to distract me whilst at home.

Though Claire had provided some of it by dragging me to watch films and all the girly goodness a girlfriend could offer, Hugo's presence in my mind was more prevalent as the days went on. It was mystifying, unnerving, but overall, rather frightening that I wasn't over him after all this time. In fact, if I was honest with myself, it had become worse.

I dreamed, breathed, and agonized over the sexy, gorgeous French man who had truly swept me off my feet.

Though his lifestyle was peculiar, he was a true gentleman who had acted as such towards me. Not once had he made me feel inferior, not even after he knew the truth about my ghastly father, not even when he had found out about my betrayal with Damen. He was in a league of his own, and I couldn't help being in awe of him.

It took me all this time to realize how much he meant to me, but since I had no means to contact him, I must remain vigilant until such opportunity. Maybe I might brazen up and break the request he had thrown at me—never to see each other again.

"Anything new?" Claire quipped as she pulled the cork out of the wine bottle and took out a pair of wine glasses before setting them on the table across from where I was sitting, hobbled with my laptop in a true stalker- _ish_ fashion, hunchbacked as my eyes lasered in on updates in Google news while I tried to ignore her less than subtle jibe. "It's been like what... sixty minutes since you Google-stalked him? But, hey, in an hour's time, a lot could've happened, right? Like he changed his shirt from white to blue, or he went commando, and the imprint of his cockatoo is truly 'breaking news.' Or what of it..."

Throwing her a dirty look as she handed me a half-filled wine glass, my eyes resumed their perusal of the screen before I decided to click on the second selection with a headline: "French Casino Mogul Parties with a Dozen Sexy Entourages in Paris."

"I know I might look like a hot mess—"

"Oh, darling, a hot mess is too subtle a word." She paused, as if giving it some thought, before her face lit up when she found the perfect sarcasm to rub in my plight. "How about a disaster waiting to implode? I don't know what the real story is behind this uncanny obsession. I mean, you went on a trip, met a god-like, French stud muffin who probably whispered all these seductive phrases in your ear. It's sexy and hot, but, love, you're back in England, not in Monaco, and Damen's getting suspicious."

"Whatever do you mean by 'Damen's getting suspicious'?" I looked up at her, waiting for her explanation.

She shrugged before giving me a pleading look. "He said you've been too occupied and aren't the same. He wondered if there's something wrong with you..."

I waited a beat before responding to her. "And did you confide anything to him at all?" If she did, what should I tell Damen? I knew Claire could be trusted, but at the same time, I knew she wasn't so keen on me being consumed with another man's life when everyone knew Damen was crazy in love with me.

I did love him still—of course I did—but it was hard to love him when my thoughts strayed to Hugo. Most especially at night, it was hard to truly move on when I couldn't let him kiss me without the feeling of betrayal resurfacing its ugly head. I knew it was too late to be feeling like I was betraying Hugo, but I did. That was why I had been trying to avoid alone time with Damen. I felt safer with our friends around. There was less pressure to be intimate with him and less opportunity for him to drill me about what was bothering me.

"As much as I don't want to keep Damen in the dark, I feel that you must sort this problem on your own. I truly believe that you're confused, and no one can help you figure this out but yourself, Isobel. We're friends, and that's what I'm here for. Though I don't condone what you're doing, I'm not here to judge, but simply to be here for you."

It was my turn to sigh before closing the lid of my laptop. _Hugo's escapades can wait_ , I thought darkly as the images of him wrapped around some random woman's body made me almost convulse with dread and jealousy. Inside, I felt like something was ripping me apart, but I knew I should focus on what Claire was saying. She was the person I was closest to after Damen, and though I didn't tell her what had happened in Monaco—other than the lies I had told Damen—I knew she meant well. She also truly cared for my wellbeing. Good friends were hard to come by, and I cherished her as such.

"I just need some time to come to terms with things. I love Damen, and I never stopped loving him, but for me to keep on going, I know I have to flush this out of my system. It must be hard to understand. I can't even understand myself, yet I know I must go through this, or I won't move on from it—from him."

"Then take your time. Do what you think is best. Like I said, I'm not judging." She raised her glass, cheering me on before giving me a warm smile. "Now finish what you're doing before it's time we leave to meet the rest in thirty minutes."

Grinning, I raised the glass to my lips before blowing her a kiss. "Thanks, love."

Maybe online stalking was some sort of an odd form of therapy. After all, it made me feel somewhat better. Not a whole lot when I read such ghastly garbage like this one, but in a peculiar way, it made me feel closer to him. Maybe this was my way of closure before I focused all of my energy back to the love of my life—Damen.

# Read Unhinged: Book 2

**Available in All Ebook Platforms**

direct me to ebook links
**Visit Pamela's website for free ebook lists, download 5 chapter samples of standalone novels, giveaways, upcoming releases, pre-orders, news & arc sign-up.**

**Website**

* * *

**Facebook**

* * *

**Twitter**

* * *

**Instagram**

