Page 32 of Good Girl's Bad Lessons

Emma placed her hand on his leg and squeezed it. “I can see why you went through these lengths to come here and have the opportunity to buy this place. It’s breathtakingly beautiful. I’ve seen pictures, but they don’t do the real thing justice.”

He turned off the ignition and stroked her cheek. Zaine and Marco had recognized his dream, but Nico suspected both of them didn’t really consider it worth pursuing. A measure of relief trickled down his spine. Emma could see his need, his want, and somewhat supported him even without knowing the full story. Supported him enough to accompany him on this trip, even if by doing so, she could turn off Desmorais from keeping her on his payroll. “Thank you.”

Hustling out of the car, he mentally braced himself. When he opened the door for her, she took his breath away. He’d had a hard time keeping his hands off her lovely body, which made for an extra-long cold shower that morning. But after the pain he’d caused her, he decided not to push for sex until she demanded it. Delayed gratification would be good for both of them.

He closed the door and stuck out his hand. She took it in hers, threaded their fingers, and a spark shot up his arm. Of course walking in like this would help brand them as a team. A couple—wasn’t that what Desmorais expected?

Before they knocked on the heavy front door, a woman in her thirties with a dark complexion swung it open. She spoke in fast French, and Emma quickly greeted her with her easy attitude. The woman smiled, glancing at him before talking to Emma again.

She brought them to the living room, and with a sentence or two, left them.

Nico scanned the space, studying the dark wood furniture accented with lots of white, including a long Persian rug under the coffee table. He didn’t remember every detail about the furniture from way back when they’d owned the house, but it looked nothing like this. Many books stacked the shelves, and there was no TV or any sign of an entertainment system. Interesting.

A collection of sparkling crystal rocks crowded a console table, and Nico touched one of them. His mother had always loved crystals, another one of her beliefs that never panned out—that they calmed her down. Once, he’d saved his allowance to buy her a turquoise quartz.

A clearing of a throat made him put it back on the table, and he spun around.

Desmorais joined them in the living area, wearing a pristine white shirt and dark gray pants. A couple of dogs tagged along, small furry things wagging their tails and breathing loudly, excited.

He gave Emma a hug, and she embraced him back, and soon, she was speaking in French and bending down to play with his dogs.

Nico erased the distance between them, resolute in not letting the misunderstanding of the other night kill his chances. Hell, he’d come this far. “Thank you for having us, Monsieur Desmorais. Merci,” he added, one of the few words he mastered in Angele’s native language.

“You’re welcome,” Desmorais said in a thick French accent. “Alors, have a seat.”

Desmorais sat in a big chair, while Emma remained on the floor, playing with the pups. Nico sat on the leather sofa across from the man who literally held the key to his happiness. Well, perhaps not happiness, but buying back the house that was taken from him—hell, from them—would give him a sense of closure and an amount of joy he could only dream of. Moments he’d shared with Emma popped into his head, when he’d experienced happiness, moments that’d come to an end. He curled his fingers into a ball, angry at himself for the mental distraction, then uncurled them.

“Have you enjoyed Port Louis?” Desmorais asked, regarding Emma.

“We have. Nico has been so amazing, showing me everything. We saw the dolphins yesterday, and I’ve almost convinced him to smuggle one of them home for me.” She petted the head of the dog in her lap, and the animal closed his eyes, soaking in the caress. Lucky bastard.

“They’re incredibly smart, beautiful animals,” Nico said, determined to be part of the conversation.

Desmorais finally tilted his head in his direction, sizing him up. Did he remember what he’d said about lapdogs at the function? Nico hated this job interview vibe. Damn it, he was a billionaire—hadn’t Desmorais heard of him before? Didn’t he feel compelled to ask him a single question about the American business world? The stock market?

A third dog joined the trio, this one a white and brown Chihuahua mix. He took to Emma quickly, licking her cheeks as she spoke to him in a sweet voice that almost made Nico jealous.

“This one’s so cute. What’s his name?” Emma asked, while the little guy rubbed himself on her lap.

“He doesn’t have a name yet. We rescued him from the beach a few days ago.”

Nico had seen stray dogs in the capital, and knew that unlike the U.S., where a lot of shelters and rescue groups took in and worked hard to help stray dogs and cats, the Mauritius government didn’t offer this type of support. Unclaimed dogs in public places were seen as a nuisance. “What’s the plan? Do you adopt them or intermediate?”

“I’ve found several dogs and kept them, many of them in dire condition,” Desmorais said, sadness flickering in his eyes. “I’m not getting any younger, and I try to get as many as I can adopted. I like to rehabilitate them and find them safe, good homes.”

“That’s really nice of you. Makes me mad when dirtbags are mean to these sweet creatures,” she said, kissing the top of the dog’s head. The little guy responded with an excited bark. “You’re really making a difference, Desmorais. I know you don’t need my approval, but I’m so proud of you,” Emma said, emotion leaking into her voice.

“Merci.”

Desmorais’s shoulders relaxed, and he flashed an affectionate look at Emma. Nico scratched his chin. Didn’t seem like the man had a crush on her, more of an older man type affection. Either way, it made a strand of jealousy pump in his veins, hot and thick.

Eyes on the prize, he told himself. Emma was smart and had worked with him in the past, and was no doubt being super sweet to lower his defenses for Nico’s benefit.

“The garden’s incredible,” Nico said. By the end of the lunch he had to seize the opportunity and make him an offer, but he also needed to get on Desmorais’s good side quickly. And learn more about him, whatever his corporate investigator hadn’t been able to. Of course Desmorais already suspected he’d make an offer—the elephant in the room. “Do you live here full time? I understand you own other properties on the island and in France.”

“Yes, I do. I like it here; it’s peaceful.”

Shit. Nico stared into his eyes and held. He smiled. “Yes it is. At some point, I’d love a tour if that’s okay with you. I don’t know if you’re aware, but long ago my family owned this property, and I used to come here often from Italy.”

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