Page 10 of Claiming Genevieve

“I told you the first night we met,” I say evenly, trying to ignore my swelling erection. “I’m interested in patronizing the ballet. I thought I’d come and see a rehearsal.”

“Hm.” Genevieve makes a small, disbelieving noise. “You came out here just to see the ballet? In general?”

“I’m fascinated by it,” I agree. After this small glimpse of it, too, it’s actually true. I’d never given any thought to it before meeting Genevieve, but now I am genuinely entranced—by her, but also by everything else I saw on the stage.

Except for another man’s fucking hands on her.

“I don’t believe you,” Genevieve says coolly. “Look, is this some plot between you and Vincent? Has he set you up to keep ‘running into’ me, in order to try to make me think that something is organically happening between us?”

“Issomething organically happening between us?” I raise an eyebrow with interest. “It certainly feels that way to me?—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Rowan!” She spits out the curse with a vitriol that only confirms what I’ve thought about her before—that under that coolly elegant, icy exterior is a fire that would melt it all away if she let it out. “Just answer the question. Is this something Vincent orchestrated?”

“No.” I shake my head, a little startled at the assumption. “I haven’t spoken to Vincent since he introduced us at the party. I thought of calling him to ask for your number, but I didn’t—for exactly the reason you’re saying. I wanted to get to know you naturally, not because your manager gave me an in. Other than the one he gave me at the party, of course.”

Genevieve’s lips thin. “So you actually want me to believe that you showing up at the same coffee shop that I go to every day was an accident? Just a little meet-cute after the party? You must think I’m utterly stupid.”

“I don’t think that. Not at all. It was—” I break off, as a loud, male voice interrupts us, calling out Genevieve’s name from a foot or so away. Neither of us saw him approaching, too caught up in our argument to pay attention to anything except each other.

“Genevieve!”

She turns, as gracefully as always, though I see her face fall for a split second before she arranges it into that cool blankness that I’ve grown more used to seeing than I’d like. “Chris,” she says evenly, and the man comes to a halt.

I get the measure of him the moment I look at him. I’ve known plenty of men like this—wealthy, connected, enough to throw it around and feel like they have more power than they really do. He’s dressed in an expensive, tailored suit, his dark blond hair expertly styled back, his blue eyes locked on Genevieve with a possessive expression that makes me feel as feral as I did when the dancer on stage lifted her. No—more so, because while I could reason with my primal brain that the dancer was only doing his job, I suspect that this man, Chris, has a more tangible claim on her.

“Who the hell is this?” He looks at me, his gaze sweeping over me dismissively before he looks back at Genevieve. “Is he with the company?”

“No,” Genevieve says smoothly. “Although if he was, it would be bad for me that you’re speaking to him so rudely, so maybe you should think next time before?—”

“Genevieve.” Chris’s voice cuts through the air, sharp as a knife. “Who is he?”

5

GENEVIEVE

Ifeel Rowan tense next to me, and I know that this is one step away from spilling over into something much more violent than it needs to be—than is good for anyone standing here.

Chris is glaring at me with a look that makesmeangry—not even a week ago, he was calling me paranoid and jealous for accusing him of cheating when I smelled perfume on his clothes, but now he’s looking at me as if he caught me fucking Rowan in the hallway. As if I’ve done something wrong, when I haven’t.

It’s not as if you’re completely innocent,that small voice in my head whispers.After all, the other night in the bathtub…

But fantasy isn’t the same as reality, and I’m almost certain that Chris hasactuallycrossed a line that I never have.

“He’s someone with an interest in the ballet,” I say smoothly, sweetly enough to hopefully calm Chris down. “That’s all. He was watching the rehearsal and had some questions for me.”

“Is that so?” Chris looks between the two of us. “You looked like you were arguing.”

“I’m afraid I tried to explain Ms. Fournier’s own area of expertise to her,” Rowan cuts in. “I had some opinions about the ballet that got her rather heated. She put me in my place quickly.”

Chris’s eyes narrow. “I’d like to speak to my girlfriend alone,” he snaps. “I’m sure she’s explained enough to you. Maybe one of the other dancers can fill you in on any other questions you might have.”

IfeelRowan bristle, and I twist toward him, giving him a quick, sharp look that pleads with him to leave. This is the last thing I want to deal with right now, and if the two of them get into a fight?—

Vincent will have my head. Blame me for ruiningtwopatronages, a current one and a potential one. Berate me about why I couldn’t just be more pleasant to Rowan, whenRowanis the one who has been disturbing my peace, showing up where he’s not wanted, and not taking my clear hints that I’m not interested in anything he has to offer right now. I’m still not sure that I believe that they’re not both in on this together.

Rowan backs off, to my surprise, holding his hands up. “I’m sure I can get my answers elsewhere,” he says coolly, and I see his gaze linger on Chris, something concerned behind the irritation in his eyes. I want to tell him that I’ll be fine, but that will only agitate Chris more, and I’m not sure I’ve ever actually seen him this pissed off with me. It feels abnormal, and a queasy, warning feeling rolls through my gut. Even the other night, before the party, he wasn’t as angry as he seems now.

Chris waits until Rowan has started to retreat before reaching out to grab my arm, turning me back to face him fully. I flinch in surprise at the sudden touch, wrenching my arm away. To my relief, he lets me go, but it concerns me that I was worried at all that he wouldn’t.

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