Page 21 of Sinful Escape

I picked up my book again. But as I attempted to read the sexy bedroom scene, my chest squeezed. Negativity attacked like a ninja. Roman’s brutal comment about me being old cut a slice from my heart. My age carved a slice of my sanity. My single status hurt deep. My expiring visa stabbed too. The words on the page blurred. My chin dimpled, and when I clamped my eyes shut, a tear spilled down my cheek.

How the hell did I let this happen?

“Hey, ma belle, are you okay?”

I snapped my eyes open. Pierre had approached in stealth mode. “Yes. Yes. I’m fine.”

He tilted his head. “Excusez-moi, but you do not look fine.”

I flicked the tear from my cheek. “Well, I wasn’t just then, but I am now.”

“May I?” Without my response, he pulled a chair over from another table and sat so close our knees touched. “It is okay to cry.”

Emotion ran rampant but I fought it. Fought the embarrassment. “I, um . . .” The lump in my throat made it impossible to breathe, let alone talk. I swallowed, forcing it down. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Want to talk?”

I shook my head.

“I have four ex-wives. I know women’s troubles.”

Oh, God. I quickly looked away, unable to cope with the oozing pity.

“Are you ill?”

I shook my head.

“Is someone you lovesick?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that.” I screwed up my face.

He placed his palm over the back of my hand, and the warmth surprised me. “Is it because you do not have a lover?”

“Oh, God.” I wanted to crawl under the chair and die. Was it that fucking obvious that my vagina had practically sealed back over?

“I see it in your eyes, Daisy. You are lonely for love.”

I pulled my hand free. “No, I’m not.”

“It is okay to admit such a thing. Admission helps you move toward your goal.”

I bulged my eyes at him. “Who are you? My therapist?”

He clutched his chest. “I am merely a gentleman concerned for a friend.”

“Friend?” I frowned. “You barely know me.”

“I know more about you than you think.”

I rolled my eyes. “Really?”

“Oui.” He placed his hand over mine again. “I know you are an Australian who came to Paris for excitement, but you decline to take it. I know you are a woman who reads romance, yet you refuse to embrace it. I know you are sad, but you have no one with whom you confide in.”

Tugging my bottom lip with my teeth in an attempt to stop it quivering, I met his gaze. He placed his palm on my cheek, and I leaned into its warmth. Tears blurred my vision. I sucked in a shaky breath.

“I’m old.” I blurted. “And ugly.” Clutching the napkin, I wiped snot from my nose. “And single.”

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to his chest, and I couldn’t hold back a moment more. I sobbed into his embrace. Really, truly sobbed.

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