Page 67 of Pleasure Games

She gazed around at the kitchen. Old cabinetry, an old gas stove that was finicky, a refrigerator that was barely larger than a bar-sized one she had at home.

Home?

Where the hell was her home?

She had none.

She’d lived with Parker for two years of their three-year relationship, and while his penthouse apartment was ultramodern, with all the conveniences she could ask for, she felt more at home here in this outdated kitchen than she ever had in Chicago.

“That must be the sex talking,” she muttered as she turned on another burner to fry up some eggs. Luca was right. It was time she stopped avoiding her life and face what had happened back in Chicago. It was time she found herself.

The hard part was, she’d never felt more like herself than she did right here.

A noise from the hall had her turning around. Luca stood in the doorway of the kitchen. At least...she thought it was Luca.

“Your beard. You shaved it.”

“Yes.”

But it was more than his clean-shaven face that made him appear different. His black curls had been slicked back in a way she’d never seen before. He wore clean jeans and a button-down shirt that had been pressed. There was almost nothing about this man that resembled the sexy brute who had pursued her—and captured her—yesterday.

Nothing except his eyes.

And in those startling blue eyes that she’d come to adore was a distance that told her everything she needed to know without him having to say it.

The fairy tale was over.

She turned back to the eggs, not wanting Luca to see the emotion she feared was written quite clearly across her face. While she did that, he sliced some meat and cheese, and poured orange juice, and they sat and ate in silence. It was while they were cleaning the breakfast dishes—when had they gotten into such a familiar routine?—that Luca finally spoke.

“I left the bag on your bed so you can pack your things. We’ll leave in half an hour.”

Not trusting her voice, Jasmine simply nodded.

The leather satchel that Luca had brought from Paris lay open on the bed. Jasmine took her pile of clothes out of the drawer and set everything beside the bag. She spread the bag open and was about to plop her clothes inside when she noticed Luca’s wallet in the bottom. She glanced toward the open door and tiptoed back to pull it shut.

Was snooping wrong at this stage of the game?

Maybe.

But Jasmine didn’t care. In a couple of hours, she’d never see Luca again. She opened the wallet to the slots that held all of his credit cards and ID. The picture on the driver’s license was the clean-shaven version of Luca who had appeared this morning. He had credit cards. Lots of credit cards. She pulled each one out before slipping it back inside. Then she studied his driver’s license picture again.

Something was off. What was it?

Luca Legrand.

Legrand? Hadn’t he said his last name was Deschamps? She checked his credit cards again. They were all in Luca Legrand’s name. Why the hell had he lied to her about his last name? It made no sense.

She opened the bill compartment and pulled out the wad of cash. The man was carrying thousands of euros. Why would he need to carry so much cash when he had credit cards? And...wait...what was this lump at the very bottom of his wallet?

Jasmine fished inside and came out holding a ring between her thumb and forefinger.

Her engagement ring.

Why the hell did Luca have her engagement ring?

Who the fuck was he?

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