Page 44 of The Billionaire's Temporary Governess (French Conquests 2)

That night, William might have slept like a rock, but Naisha was awake until the purple haze of dawn, pondering.

15

“I didn’t know you were so into comedy,” Naisha commented as she and Liam stepped out of the small art-house cinema in the Old Town. They walked hand in hand, fingers entwined, after spending the evening laughing at ridiculous vintage slapstick reels that dated as far back as the silent era. It wouldn’t have been the kind of evening she’d have chosen for herself, especially not back in the States with all her society friends, but when she was with Liam, she always felt as if she would be willing to try anything.

He came right back at her. “Oh, so you’re saying that I’m such a boring old fart that I couldn’t possibly laugh at Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd?”

She grabbed him by the lapels and spun him around, shoving him up against the wall of a closed cheese shop and planted teasing kisses all over his face. “I never called you boring. You could never be boring!” She punctuated her words with kisses. “You are the most fascinating, most intriguing–”

The phone in the pocket of her jeans vibrated and then vibrated again. Andagain,so hard it made her shriek. She’d forgotten to turn it back from its silent setting when she’d left the movie theater. She frowned. It was after eleven in the evening, who the hell would be sending her such a flurry of messages at this hour?

Surely, if something had happened to Willa, Yvette would have called William!

She removed the phone from her pocket and looked down at it. It seemed to be a local number, but one she didn’t recognize. And her screen was peppered with thumbnails of images that were slowly downloading: the file sizes must have been huge.

It didn’t make any sense. What was it? Spam? Unsolicited porn? Some sort of marketing blitz?

William seemed to have noticed her sudden tension, because he asked, “Naisha? Something wrong?”

And then the first photo opened, followed by the others in a swift cascade. Full color and high resolution. Each was like a punch in the head. She felt her legs go weak, and she had to lean back against the wall to stop herself from falling over.

The photos were of her and Liam, on their little sortie to the lake just a couple days ago. They were explicit, intimate, hiding nothing. Her and Liam getting undressed before entering the water. Facing each other, laughing, teasing.

And then—oh, God—Liam lifting her onto his body, letting her ride him. Her leaning back in ecstasy, almost parallel with the water. Then, more photos of them lounging on the blanket, wrapped only in towels, sharing a crusty boule of French bread with cheese and country ham.

And making love a second time on the blanket, too engrossed in each other to sense that they were being watched.

“What is it?” William demanded. He held out his hand for the phone.“Donne-moi.”

She didn’t even bother to resist. She was too weak and nauseated, longed to throw up.

She couldn’t look at his face as he hastily flicked through the pictures, but lifted her head at the sound of his stream of curses. “Putain!What is this? Where did it come from?”

Naisha didn’t need to ask any such questions. The answers were obvious. There was only one person spiteful and vindictive enough to have done such a thing: Abe.

And not only was he here in France, but he knew exactly where she was.

That thought terrified her.

The phone buzzed again, and Naisha watched as Liam opened another set of pictures. She groaned within the depth of her soul.God, what now?

Clearly angry, he turned the phone towards her, showing her photos that made tears spring to her eyes. Blurred pictures of William’s château, taken from outside the tall iron gates; of her and Willa wandering the narrow town streets eating ice cream; even of her, Madeline and Willa strolling around the garden. More unsettling were the last two or three, which had been taken in semi-darkness—not half an hour ago—of her and Liam in the cinema, snuggling in their seats.

“I asked you a question,” William said harshly, a bit too loudly. “Who are these from? Why would this person want to take photos of you and me? And most importantly, why do they have photos of Willa?” Those last few words erupted from him in a roar, making Naisha feel almost afraid of him.

Hell hath no fury as a man whose family is threatened, she realized.

There may have been a hundred softer ways to start, which might placate him, but she chose the direct route. “I have reason to believe it’s an ex of mine—”

“An ex?” he growled. “A lover?”

“A former boyfriend,” she responded, beginning to get angry now. Surely she deserved the chance to explain. “We were together awhile. Now we aren’t. I told him it was over, but he didn’t want to let it go.”

He nodded tautly. “Is this man the ‘complication’ you spoke of?”

“Yes.”

“And he is here. In France.”

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