Page 179 of Modern Romance January 2025 1-4

‘There’s no mention of her on her parents’ social media profiles,’ his other assistant said. ‘It’s as if she doesn’t exist.’

Irritated, he snapped, ‘And her sister?’

‘Doesn’t seem to be online.’

Which was weird. But Elodie’s social media profile was easily accessible. Beautiful Elodie in short, form-fitting dresses—all seductive smiles, drinks in hand, nightclubs, restaurants and parties. Unsurprisingly she was accompanied by a vast assortment of men. Apparently disowned by her parents, she was a wild child. And an appallingly base part of him was pleased that Elodie Wallace knew how to have a good time.

‘Enough. Thank you.’ He ended the calls and remained staring at the screen full of pictures for far too long.

She would be able to hold her own with him. She was as uninterested in happy ever after as he was. She was about immediate gratification. His competitive nature surged. No one would give her a good time in the way he would. He would have her resplendent in his bed, mindless with bliss, with nothing other than sighs tumbling from her tart mouth. Because that was the element missing in all these photos. His gut instinct told him her pleasure here was superficial amusement at best. Not bone-deep satisfaction.

So maybe he would thwart his aunt and get the occupancy rights of the property the moment before she thought she’d succeeded. And in the same sweep, he would enjoy an affair with the enthusiastic and experienced Elodie Wallace.

He finally stalked along the corridor to the guest suite, anticipating her annoyance that it was more than an hour since Piotr had shown her to the room, not a mere twenty minutes. That it was Ramon himself coming to fetch her for dinner, not his man. In part he’d wanted to test whether she’d skip out or not. He knocked on the door but got no response. Opened it and paused. She was reclined in the large armchair, a flannel folded across her eyes—was she asleep?

He moved forward, not expecting that she’d be so relaxed as if she were having a spa session at a hotel. But of course, she was a confident queen. He crouched before her. Her satiny skin tempted as did her soft-looking mouth. But there was something vulnerable in her positioning.

‘Elodie.’ His whisper came out gruff and he had to clear his throat.

She lifted away the cloth and looked straight into his eyes. The cloth must’ve been damp because much of her make-up was removed and she was disturbingly pale.

‘Oh. I’m...’ She made to sit up.

He frowned and pushed her back against the chair. ‘You have a headache?’

‘I probably look like a racoon.’

But the shadows beneath her eyes weren’t streaks of mascara. She looked wary and sensitive. Interesting given her boldness earlier.

‘What time is it?’ She bit her lip.

‘I took longer than I’d thought. Wasn’t sure you’d have stayed to be honest. Turns out you’re lying here looking like death.’ He studied her curiously. ‘Been burning the candle at both ends?’

Had she been out partying and just not updating her social media?

He heard a defiant little hitch of her breath.

‘Of course, that’s how I like it,’ she said.

‘So you have no problem sleeping wherever and whenever?’ And with whomever?

He shouldn’t care about that. Her past was the past and none of his business. But without doubthewould be her immediate future.

‘Right.’ She lowered her lashes but beneath them her eyes gleamed. ‘It’s a skill I’ve perfected over the years.’

‘Impressive.’ As was the coy death look she was shooting him now.

He watched her pull herself together before him—in two blinks she morphed back into the confident woman who’d coolly knocked down his front door. Her lashes lifted and she looked at him directly. The ambient temperature soared. Colour surged back beneath her skin. Her blush was a giveaway reaction to him that was completely beyond her control. As was his. This chemistry needed to be burned. He rose from his haunches and offered his hand. There was a small hesitation—as if she were bracing—before she took it. He locked his fingers firmly around hers—also inwardly bracing to contain his insane satisfaction—and tugged, helping her to her feet in a smooth movement.

Now they stood too close and still she met his gaze with that daring, fiery defiance. The bed beckoned. He watched, waited. Would she make the move? She was definitely sexually interested. No way was he wrong about that. Which meant any moment now she’d lift her chin and press her lips to his. He wanted her to. Badly.

But she didn’t. She’d frozen as if paralysed by the crackling reaction between them. His pulse thudded—pushing him to close the gap. Resisting the urge took almost everything he had.

‘I’m hungry,’ she said huskily.

He dragged in a breath. She wasverygood. But this vixen had enteredhisden and he wasn’t afraid to engage with her. He wasn’t bored anymore either. No, now they would spar. ‘Then come with me.’

CHAPTER FOUR

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