Pleasure Games. Daire St. Denis

Well, Jasmine was not overly keen on being watched by a complete stranger, either, thank you very much.

      “There must be some other option.”

      “You don’t know where you’re staying. You are here alone and have no identification or money. Unless you know someone in Paris, you do not have many choices, mademoiselle.”

      Slowly—very slowly—Jasmine tilted her head to the side. “What about you? Can’t I stay with you?” She pointed at the doctor.

      “Je suis désolé. I’m sorry but it is impossible. My work has me flying to Italy this evening.” The doctor turned toward the other man and gestured him forward. “Luca is a good man.” The doctor coughed as if to cover up a chuckle. “He will take excellent care of you until you remember where you are staying.”

      “What if I can’t remember?”

      “Your memory should return soon. But if it doesn’t, I’m sure the two of you can figure things out.” The man’s lips twisted as if to repress a grin. “Now,” he glanced at the watch on his wrist. “I really must go before I miss my flight.” He nodded to Jasmine. “Au revoir, mademoiselle.”

      The doctor exited the bedroom and the other man—Luca—followed. Jasmine could hear the two of them continuing their heated discussion outside the door, though it became more muted as they moved farther down the hallway.

      She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyelids, willing herself to remember what had happened. Something.

      Anything.

      But for the life of her, the last thing Jasmine remembered was Ashley saying, Buy condoms, lots and lots of condoms.

      * * *

      “She can’t stay here,” Luca insisted once the bedroom door was closed.

      Hugo, who was the team physician for Luca’s racing team, had not only treated Luca after various wipeouts—including the shattered leg that had ended his career—he’d been a close friend ever since Luca joined the team five years ago. While he’d briefly explained his predicament with the family estate, and Hugo understood his need for discretion, Luca had kept most of the details to himself. Including the robbery.

      “I’m sure she’ll remember the name of her hotel by the morning. Anyway, you know how important observation is in these first twenty-four hours. This woman has no one to watch her.” Hugo smiled gently. “Except you.”

      “Isn’t there another way? I am supposed to be lying low. Not harboring an amnesiac tourist.”

      “It’s only for one night.”

      Luca groaned in defeat.

      Hugo patted his arm. “Everything will be fine.” Just then, Hugo’s phone dinged and he tapped on it. “My cab is here.” He tucked his phone into his pocket and headed for the front door.

      “Hugo, wait.” Luca exhaled. He hated the fact that he had to say this. “You can’t breathe a word of this to anyone, do you understand?”

      “Of course.” The expression Hugo wore was kind. And most welcome after the way others had treated him since the sex scandal. “Give her acetaminophen for the pain. You know the drill. Rest. No TV.” Hugo reached for the door handle. “Bonne chance, mon ami.”

      Luca banged his head—once, twice, three times—against the closed door after Hugo left, and then a noise from down the hall had him spinning around. The woman stood there, eyes wide, her feet bare, thick waves of dark hair shadowing half her face.

      “I’m sorry.”

      Her soft apology did more to diffuse Luca’s anger than he would have expected. “Why are you sorry?”

      “For putting you out.” She gestured to his flat in general. “It’s obvious you don’t want me here.” She walked toward him, taking careful steps. Whether it was because her head hurt or because she was scared of him, Luca couldn’t tell. “It’s just...” She seemed to be weighing her words. “I don’t think I could deal with a hospital waiting room or the embassy right now. I’m still feeling a bit dizzy.”

      Hugo was right...whoever this woman was, she needed to be taken care of. “It’s okay,” he said eventually, forcing a smile. “I’ve changed my plans for this evening.” Plans? What plans, Luc?

      “Oh.” A little wrinkle formed between her brows.

      “Please. You are welcome to stay the night.”

      “Are you sure?”

      “Yes.”

      She took a tentative step forward and then another until she stood right in front of him. The top of her head came to just below his chin, her face was tilted up so she could meet his gaze. Her lips were pink and full—the kind of lips Anika would have paid a fortune for—but it was her eyes that captivated him. Liquid brown, like melted chocolate, with smudged mascara that rimmed her wide eyes, only making them appear larger.

      There was no fucking way he could say no to those eyes.

      “My name is Jasmine. Jasmine Sweet.” Her lips trembled with an uncertain smile as she extended her hand. “And you are Luca...?”

      “Luca. Luca Deschamps,” he lied.