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

I really can’t IM right now.

      [L.Dumont] OK. Ping me when you can.

      [S.Donnelly] Later.

      Later, she thought. If she still had a job. She doubted that Tristan would fire her for talking on the phone, especially to Lucille, but she knew he wouldn’t hesitate if she gave him enough reason to believe she was more interested in his personal life than in her job.

      “Do you need anything else before I go, Mr. Sabina?” Sheri asked right at five o’clock. Not that she had anything really interesting to go home to. But she’d made it a point not to stay late since Tristan had become her boss. She found she liked the office a little too much when only the two of them were still there.

      Tristan glanced up from his phone, which he’d been staring at in…amazement? His bangs fell over his forehead, making him look devilishly handsome.

      He looked at her assessingly, making her more nervous. “Actually I do have one more thing to discuss with you, something that has just come to my attention. Please come in and shut the door.”

      Sheri tried to school her features as she entered the office but guessed she’d failed when he gave her another odd look. Was the tabloid conversation going to come up again?

      She walked across the Italian marble floor to the thick Arabian carpet that lined the area in front of his desk. The Sabina Group was a first-class outfit all the way. No cheaply made faux-wood desks or cubicles for their offices. And Tristan’s office was a lush as they came. She took a seat on one of the leather wingback chairs that he had for guests.

      “Before you say anything, let me apologize for looking at that magazine earlier. Sorry about that. I couldn’t resist seeing what Lucille was talking about.”

      He shook his head. “No need` to apologize. I think I let my temper slip a bit when I saw what you were reading.”

      “Why?”

      “The paparazzi are always following me around. They can be a real nuisance,” he said.

      He sounded almost bored, an air she knew he used to hide his anger. “You’ve been making the headlines a lot, lately,” she said.

      “Our family always has. My grandmother was a famous actress in France, and my grandfather was a director. My family always generates a lot of interest.”

      “I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

      “Well, actually, there is.”

      “What?” She hoped he wasn’t going to ask her to be some kind of paparazzi lookout. “I’m not sure the celebrity photographers who follow you are going to disappear if I ask them to.”

      “No?” He arched one eyebrow at her in a totally arrogant way, giving her a half smile that melted her brain.

      “Maybe you should stop partying,” she said before she thought better of it.

      His lips twitched and he shrugged one of his shoulders in a very Gallic way. “Unfortunately it is too late for that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I have a proposition for you, Ms. Donnelly.”

      “And that is?”

      “A personal one.”

      “How personal?”

      “Pretty personal.”

      “I thought it was important to you to keep things strictly business among everyone at the office,” she said.

      “Well, this is personal business. What would you say to an all-expenses-paid trip to the island of Mykonos in Greece?”

      Her breath caught. “Tell me more,” she said.

      “One of my best friends is getting married there next week.”

      She stared at him, confused. “Do you want me to go in your stead?”

      “No. I’m asking you to come with me and be part of the bridal party.”

      Come. With. Him. Oh, God, she wanted to jump up, say yes and leave before he changed his mind. Maybe he had noticed the real Sheri beneath the plain clothing. But she wasn’t that naive. There had to be more to this than any kind of latent attraction.

      “Why me?”

      “The bride, Ava Monroe, is American.”

      “You know other Americans,” she said, thinking of the actress.

      “It’s short notice and I want to bring someone I am comfortable with. Someone who won’t be nosing around in Christos’s business.”

      This wasn’t the most flattering invitation she’d ever had. It reinforced something she knew but hated to face. That she wasn’t a forever kind of girl. That men moved on, always leaving her behind. Starting with her father, the pattern had repeated again and again over the course of her life. She tried not to dwell on it or mope around, but sometimes she forgot and hoped…hoped that those little-girl dreams of a white knight would become reality.

      She still wanted to say yes.

      “Christos Theakis?”

      “Yes. Do you know him?”

      “Only what I’ve read about Christos and the Theakis heir in the papers.” The Greek shipping tycoon had recently come to America and been photographed with a lovely woman and a young boy. The tabloids had speculated that the child was his secret son.

      “What did the scandal rags say?”

      “Not too much,” she said, taken aback by the vehemence in his tone. She should change the subject. “What exactly does this proposition entail?”

      He pushed to his feet and walked around his desk. He leaned back against the polished walnut surface, crossing his legs at the ankle.

      “I want you to be my date for the week during the wedding activities. They need a few women to round out the bridal party. The bride has one close friend she has asked, and she and Christos would like the groomsmen to invite the other attendants.”

      She stared at him for a minute, unsure she’d heard him right. She shook her head and opened her mouth, but no words came out. Then she closed her eyes. “Okay, did you say date?”

      “That is correct.”

      Her eyes popped open. “Are you crazy?”

      “Maybe. But I am serious about this.”

      “Serious about taking me to Greece for a week.” She crossed her arms over her chest and settled back into the chair.

      “Actually, ten days. And I already told Christos that you will be there.”

      “Shouldn’t you have asked me before you started announcing that?” she asked, not even trying to keep the surprise from her voice.

      He lifted one eyebrow at her. “I apologize. There wasn’t time to discuss it with you. Christos just called to ask me and wanted a name to include in the wedding program. As my assistant, you were the first suitable woman to come to mind.”

      “Mr. Sabina—”

      “Call me Tristan.”

      She stared at him. “Are you asking me because one of your lovers might get to thinking that marriage to you might be in the cards?”

      He shrugged.

      “Don’t you care for any of them?”

      “I care for all of them, but that isn’t the point. I’ve had my once-in-a-lifetime love. Marriage is something I won’t share with anyone else.”

      She’d heard through Lucille that he’d deeply loved his first wife, and that she’d died, but knew few other details. “Why not?”

      “That’s irrelevant. The only fact that concerns you is that I’d like you to accompany me to Greece for this wedding.