Page 23 of Pleasure Games

But instead of sanity, what had he gotten? An American damsel in distress.

The polar opposite of sanity.

Worse, this damsel just happened to have gorgeous, thick hair, soul-melting eyes and the nicest ass he’d ever seen...

Luca pinched the bridge of his nose. He was a sucker for a beautiful woman in need. Wasn’t that how he’d met Anika? She’d had too much to drink during a party on a yacht. He’d held her hair while she got sick.

Without thinking about what he was doing—maybe it was a reminder of why not to get involved with the devil that was woman—Luca typed “Luca Legrand sex video” into the search engine.

Despite the fact that Luca’s team had had the video taken down—and wanted to take legal action against the original site that posted it—it had spent far too long online before he’d become aware of the situation and had it handled. Millions of viewers had seen it.

Merde.

And millions were still talking about it, if the current search results from blogs and gossip sites were any indication. Luca didn’t doubt the internet was rife with illegal copies that could still be viewed somewhere. The whole situation was a nightmare—one that felt impossible to contain. Some sadistic need to punish himself had him opening the original copy of the video and hitting the Play button. The video was dark and amateurish—because when he and Anika had made it, it was for their eyes only—but her face was clearly distinguishable. As was his as he tied her up, spread-eagled, to the bed. An act that took ultimate trust had been corrupted by exposure to the public.

Luca rubbed his forehead before exiting the video. He returned to the search results online and clicked on the first hit, then scrolled to the comments beneath the article. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. More figurative self-flagellation.

What an asshole.

Luca Legrand can tie me up anytime.

Anika deserves better than that sadistic pig.

He should be thrown in jail...

With a growl, he snapped the laptop lid closed, pushed the computer back onto the coffee table, got to his feet and paced the length of the small living room. What his surfing had confirmed for him was that he could not afford another scandal. He needed to get rid of the American woman first thing without her or anyone else finding out about his involvement.

He could drop her at the embassy—but she had no money and no one to vouch for her.

He could take her back to the street where the shop was to see if she would remember anything. Maybe her bag was still at the shop. Or, more likely, it was at the police station.

He opened the French doors onto the small balcony and went to stand at the rail, breathing in the night air, considering his options. The woman’s memory was faulty and she didn’t know his real name. Even if she tried to describe him to the police, what were the chances they’d find out it was him? He could vacate the flat, go somewhere else, maybe head south of the city to the villa he’d avoided for twelve years. Perhaps if he just dropped her off at the police station and then drove away...

No. The possibility that someone local would see him and recognize him was too much of a gamble. Once again, it was François’s voice in his head telling him it was too risky.

He leaned his elbows on the rail and gazed out.

Wait.

He stood up straight.

Maybe he should call François and get him to help. François was as intent on keeping things quiet as Luca was.

That wasn’t a bad idea.

Why hadn’t he thought to call the lawyer sooner? He’d do it first thing in the morning.

With the decision made, Luca went back inside and settled onto the sofa, his bed for the night. The ride and fresh air this morning had tired him out. Worrying about the woman had taken the last of his energy and he was tired. However, instead of sleep, images of Jasmine’s sweetly curved spine appeared behind his closed lids. Why he let his mind wander in that direction, he couldn’t say. Maybe because she’d be gone by morning.

Luca saw himself kneeling behind her, hands on either side of her sloped hips, his tongue tracing the indent of her spine at the top of her ass. Circling those delicate dimples, kissing high up on the globes of her cheeks.

Luca?

“Hmm?”

Will you kiss me? Please?

She turned herself around, presenting the front of herself. There was a silky patch of hair over her mound, so soft and glistening he had to stroke...with his cheek. “Where do you want me to kiss you?” he asked, gazing up at her.

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