Page 84 of Take Hold of Me

“No.” He turns his head away from me. “I’ll be fine. It was all my talking about Three that brought it on.” He runs his fingers through his hair.

Trying to lighten the mood, I play with some of the hair at the bottom of his neck. “You need a haircut.”

His half-smile tells me I have succeeded. If only for tonight. I only wish I could really help him exorcise his demons.

The next time I wake, the sun is up. Birds chirp outside my window. I turn my head on my pillow, but I already know I am alone. Last night, Wills sent me back to bed after I fell asleep outside. At some point, I felt him join me.

The heady scent of a morning brew precedes his re-entering my room. “I made us some coffee.” He places a steaming mug on my side table.

“Merci.” Inhaling the aroma, my blood begins to circulate faster, helping me to throw off the last vestiges of sleep.

Wills sits next to me on the bed. “What would you like to do today?”

I run my eyes up and down his half-naked form.

“Besides that.” He winks.

Smiling at the man I love, I say, “Perhaps I can practice driving? Drive us to Complete for a workout?”

He nods and tips the mug to his lips and swallows.“This is really good coffee, Ems.”

“That is because it is French.”

He nudges me with his shoulder. “I guess everything French tastes that much better.”

“Oui.” I take a sip. “Everything.”

Our interlude is interrupted by my cell phone. Sighing, I tell him it is the Agency right before swiping to answer.

Monsieur Price dives right in. “While you were doing whatever you thought was more important than being photographed with Brandan Rogers last night, Geonna Broz’s name was floated to be the cover model for the Holiday edition ofHit List.”

I suck in my breath. I have been on the cover of that magazine for three years in a row. Only Lizzie has been on it more consecutive times than me. I am set to beat her record this year. Assuming Geonna—

“Be here in an hour and we’ll go over Greta’s new strategy to put you back on top and the teenager in her place.” The call disconnects.

“Looks like my plans just changed.”

Anew, very blonde receptionist greets Wills and me as soon as we cross the lobby to the Agency. “Mr. Price is expecting you, Emilie. Follow me.”

Wills places his hand on my shoulder and leans over so as not to be overheard. “Stand up for what you want, okay?”

Inhaling deeply, I nod my head and leave Wills. Time to face the music. A problem I created by defying Monsieur Price yesterday. The receptionist knocks and opens the door to his office, shutting it when I walk in. His imposing figure stands by the windows. “Bonjour.”

He turns and walks up to me, stopping so that he is close. Very close. Too close. His hands grasp me by the shoulders and he kisses both of my cheeks in greeting. Funny—I do not recall him ever doing that before.

I stand straight but still have to tip my head to maintain eye contact. His hands remain on my shoulders. “I just got off a call from your attorney about your contract renewal.” His fingers dig into my flesh but I refuse to slink back.

“Oh.”

He leans forward again, this time putting his mouth close to my ear. My blood accelerates. “Do you want to stay on top?”

Disengage. I need to pull away. Swallowing, I try to lean back but his hold on me becomes more entrenched. The door to his office is closed. On my way here, I did not see many people at their desks outside. If I were to scream, would anyone hear me? Wills is in reception—too far away. I bite my lower lip.

When I do not respond, he says, “I knowIlike to be on top. In all things.” He laughs and steps away from me, walking to his desk.

Heart racing, I look out at Los Angeles. Rather, I look down on the city, his office is so high. I need to get out of here.

In an imperious voice, he says, “Sit down, Emilie. We have some things to discuss. Like how I built you up, and how easily I could tear you down.”

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