Page 13 of Signed, Sealed, Married

His step faltered and he paused on the pretext of looking at a shop, allowing his body time to cool. He couldn’t walk stiff-legged and aroused to their meeting.

He forced his mind from thoughts of carnal pleasure. And the satisfaction he anticipated when Gisèle capitulated.

It took a while, but focus and self-control were second nature. They were the basis of his success. Those and bloody hard work. And a determination not to be put down by anyone.

He made himself register the warmth of the sun on his shoulders, inhaled the cocktail of smells, damp cobbles, something sweet and a motorbike’s acrid exhaust. He’d spent so much time in board rooms and offices, it felt liberating to dawdle along a street during business hours, absorbing the sights and smells.

He’d stopped before a soap shop. Crates supported an artistic display of soaps, some embedded with leaves, some with lavender. Another, judging by the image pressed into it, with honey.

He thought of the House of Fontaine, with its scents and lotions. He imagined his mother’s face when he told her he’d acquired it. Her thrill and pride. Her excitement.

Through those tough years after his dad’s death, when there was never enough money and his mum worked herself to the bone juggling underpaid jobs, her one treat had been an occasional Saturday off.

She’d take him and his sister into the city with a packed lunch, to the big department store to window shop. Occasionally one of the chic women would do her makeup for free and it was always with Fontaine products. The embossed F entwined with a lavender sprig on those gold bottle tops always made him think of his mum’s smile. On those days it seemed as if, for a short time, the weight of worry lifted from her shoulders.

Angela, his sister, still bought Fontaine products for her on Mothers’ Day.

Looking at it that way, it was remarkable he’d even bothered to consider acquiring any company other than the House of Fontaine.

Except Adam wasn’t given to sentiment. Business was business, to be pursued with rigour and hard logic. He’d never consider acquiring Fontaine’s unless he knew he could turn it into something bigger and more successful—a sound return on his investment.

But it wasn’t a done deal yet. Perhaps that was why he’d had disturbed dreams, because he knew what he wanted but hadn’t yet secured it.

He snapped straighter and resumed his walk, his stride lengthening. It was time to seal this bargain.

She was seated at an outdoor table in a corner of a small square. He’d left the location to her and had again been surprised. He’d expected some chic establishment.

Maybe she preferred the illusion of freedom that came from being outside. But Gisèle was a smart woman. She knew she only had one choice.

Her eyes were on a boy with a red shirt running around a fountain, but Adam doubted she really noticed him. Her brows were drawn down in concentration as she twisted a glass of water round and around.

An unfamiliar sensation fluttered through Adam’s chest.

He couldn’t be having second thoughts. Ruthlessness was necessary for success. He wanted her company for the profits it would make under his leadership and for the prestige. He wanted her as visible proof that he’d climbed the dizzy heights of social success, and for himself. He’d ensure she didn’t lose out from their bargain.

Gisèle stopped twisting the glass, instead running her fingers up then down its length. Every muscle tightened as Adam imagined her hand on him.

Oh, yes, hedefinitelywanted her for himself.

He was digging her and her brother out of a hole, saving their precious company rather than allowing it to be taken over by others and possibly broken up. She’d find him extremely generous. She wasn’t selling herself into penury.

Besides, the choice was hers. She could say no.

Except he refused to consider that option.

He marched across the cobblestones, seeing the moment she recognised him and sat straighter, uncrossing her legs and pushing her shoulders back.

One day she’d welcome his approach instead of looking like a soldier preparing to face the enemy. He had a lot of catching up to do but he’d enjoy the challenge.

In high heels, a trouser suit of lilac-grey that complemented her eyes, and another sleek camisole peeping between the lapels, she made his pulse thrum. Her only jewellery were tiny golden earrings and a fine chain with a delicate golden flower that rested in the hollow of her collarbone, emphasising her slender elegance. She turned corporate chic from dull to enticing.

‘Gisèle, you’re looking charming.’

Her mouth flattened as if his compliment displeased her. She didn’t like compliments? Or maybe not ones about her appearance.

‘Adam. You look well-rested. Perhaps France agrees with you.’

‘I’m sure it does.’

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