Claimed by the Millionaire: The Wealthy Frenchman's Proposition. Michelle Celmer

      He shook his head.

      “I can still feel you on my body, ma petite. The remembered feel of your sheath clasping me is making it damned hard for me to let you go.”

      “Oh.”

      “Yes, oh. Maybe you don’t know quite everything.”

      She looked down. “I never meant to imply that I did.”

      He nodded. “Good. Then stop trying to manage this on your own. We need to deal with this together, or else you’re going to get hurt.”

      She wrapped her arms around her waist before realizing what she was doing. The move was a dead giveaway that she felt vulnerable, and Tristan already had seen her with tears in her eyes. She knew him well enough to know that weakness wasn’t something he understood.

      He was immune to that flaw. And if he wanted her by his side, wanted them to be a team, she wanted to be worthy of staying with him.

      This was the first time a man had come after her and brought her back. The first time a man hadn’t walked away from her, or simply let her walk away.

      She knew better than to read too much into it, but she felt her heart beat a little faster.

Six

      The getaway was simple. Gui, Sheri and Tristan left together via Tristan’s dark-windowed Mercedes sedan, which the housekeeper drove to the private airport where the Seconds corporate jet waited for them. They had decided that Sheri would accompany Tristan to Paris and then back to Manhattan instead of getting on the commercial flight straight back to New York that he’d booked for her return.

      She’d lost that wounded-doe look and smiled at him whenever he looked at her—which wasn’t as often as he would have liked, but ignoring her was the only way he could even pretend to himself that he wasn’t starting to care for her.

      In that moment when they’d heard her scream, he’d felt fear for another person for the first time in eight years. And the fact that he’d wanted to first protect her and then rip apart the photographers who had threatened her, had been a warning Tristan couldn’t ignore.

      Despite the fact that he knew Gui was right and the only way to protect Sheri was to keep her by his side, another part of him—the man who’d experienced the crushing blow of losing the only woman he’d ever loved—wanted her far away from him.

      “Have you been to Paris before?” Gui asked Sheri.

      “No, never. This trip to Mykonos was the first time I’ve been out of the U. S.”

      “You should travel more,” Gui said. “Tristan, you should make sure that Sheri has the opportunity to see the world. Do you know she still lives in the same brownstone that she was raised in?”

      Since he wasn’t deaf and the corporate jet wasn’t a jumbo one, he’d heard the details of her life as Gui pried into her past. He knew it was Gui’s way, but he hated the attention that his friend was giving to Sheri. And hated even more the way she soaked it up. She was hungry for a man to talk to her.

      “I heard.”

      “It’s in Brooklyn.”

      “Thanks, Gui. I know where my assistant lives,” he said.

      Sheri flushed and he saw her sink deeper into her chair. He’d crossed a line with that comment. He didn’t need to put her back into the employee role at this moment.

      Gui gave him a sharp look and turned back to Sheri, telling her about his latest escapade with one of his cousins who was at the Spanish royal court.

      She laughed, but the sound was hollow and he knew he’d done that. Taken away her joy by being a complete ass. He should apologize but, when she was ignoring him, he knew that they were both moving apart. The way they needed to.

      But dammit to hell, if Gui didn’t move away from her, he was going to leap across the aisle and strangle his friend. “Sheri, when you have a moment I’d like to discuss a few things with you.”

      “What about?”

      “Work. Our delay in returning to the office will mean rescheduling some appointments.”

      “Of course. I didn’t bring my laptop with me….”

      “You can log in on mine,” he said.

      “Surely that can wait,” Gui said.

      Sheri patted Gui on the arm. “No, it can’t. I don’t mind working. It’ll give me something to occupy my mind.”

      Sheri moved across the aisle so that she was sitting in one of the captain’s chairs and she turned it to face him. He turned his laptop around on the built-in desk. She leaned forward, a lock of her hair slipping free and brushing against her face.

      She concentrated on typing her log-in to the network and then her password.

      He leaned back in his leather chair and watched her work. Since this was the corporate jet owned by Seconds, there were three distinct areas. Gui’s area, where Sheri had been sitting, was decorated in a classic style very much befitting an aristocrat. There was something quite traditional about Gui underneath his rebel exterior.

      Christos’s area was modern and sleek. Eschewing anything traditional due to a severe disagreement with his father when he was eighteen, Christos always chose things that wouldn’t fit the traditional Greek way of life that his father, Ari, wanted for him.

      Tristan’s area was a blend of modern and classical. His desk had been handed down to him by his grandfather. It was old, though well polished, and except for two marks, looked to be in perfect condition. There was a small ink stain near the hole where an inkwell was once kept, and under the blotter was a series of initials. Each Sabina who inherited it added theirs to the line.

      For all that he was a second son, he wasn’t like Christos, who hated his family’s traditions. He liked knowing his place in the Sabina line. But then, he had sisters and a large pool of cousins. Christos had recently lost his only brother in a plane crash.

      “When do you anticipate being back in Manhattan? You have two video conferences scheduled this week. Rene could handle them in your place.”

      “I saw those e-mails, too. I think we need to get Maurice on the phone to talk through the book for Global Traveler. The new layout is supposed to start in the next issue, and I’m still not satisfied with the changes.”

      Sheri typed as he talked. He knew she was jotting down notes. He did like how efficient she was. Even before they’d been lovers, he’d liked watching her work. Her fingers were long and elegant. He would have said they were the most attractive part of her, before he’d seen her last night.

      Her body was exquisitely formed with generous curves, but not overblown. And she’d been—

      “Tristan?”

      “Hmm?”

      “I asked if a conference call will be fine? We can get the book scanned into a PDF and have it available this afternoon.”

      “Yes, that is fine,” he said, and turned his attention to work. It was the one safe thing they had between them, and he knew that, when they landed at Le Bourget airport in Paris, he’d once more be focusing on the woman and not his executive assistant.

      Tristan’s sister Blanche waited for them in the chauffeur-driven Mercedes at the airport. Sheri immediately wanted to hide back on the plane. But that was cowardly and she’d… Well, she wasn’t going to do it, no matter how tempted she might be.

      “Bonjour, Tristan,” Blanche said, embracing him. She continued speaking in French, which Sheri couldn’t follow at all when the speaker was talking as quickly as Blanche was.

      It was clear from her tone that she was upset with Tristan and reading