Page 30 of The Innovator

Holy fuck. I hadn’t meant to share this dream with her.

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything.

“You make me do things I don’t normally do, buttercup.”

The smile that appeared on her lips would make a man give up ten years of his life just to see it every day.

My stomach growled, and I glanced at my takeout bag. I’d gone out for lunch and found something else more enticing. Despite that, human needs kicked in. “Want to share my sandwich?”

“No, thanks.” She studied me.

I got up from my seat, and my thigh didn’t like the separation from her touch. I could sense it sighing with disapproval. This was when I knew I’d lost all of my brain cells. I’d never had a thought as cheesy, sappy, and syrupy run across my mind like that. This woman resurrected me from the inside out, and I became a new man. I had to be extra careful around her.

“I need to get a drink. Do you want anything?”

“No, thanks.” She looked at me with keen interest.

I stood beside her, tapping her nose gently with my finger. “Did I make you speechless with my dream admission? Do you want to hear more details? I’m not shy about sharing them with you since you’re the star of the show.”

My cock swelled just at the mention of that dream.

“No, thanks.”

I grinned and tapped her forehead. “Are you okay? What happened to your vocabulary?”

“It got lost in a . . . dream.” She smirked and closed the book, revealing the title, Sartre’sExistentialism, which completely surprised me. “I’d like another croissant, please.”

“That’s more like it. When I get back, I want to know why you’re reading Sartre.”

CHAPTERELEVEN

NATALIE

Today had to be one of the most interesting days of my life. Wanting to decompress from stress, responsibilities, and the sense that something awful was about to occur, I had dressed up to go out to make myself feel better. I needed to do something for me, so I didn’t end up wallowing in depression. A clear head was the only certainty that could help me continue.

The incident with Adonis shook me a little. Knowing Rafael, he’d take my rejection as a slap in the face. For a pampered man protected behind the walls of wealth and power, he wouldn’t stop pursuing me. But why?

Our engagement had ended a year ago. Why now?

If I’d been home, I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on work, anyway. So here I was inside an adorable bookstore where I didn’t expect to run into familiar faces.

I’d been switching back and forth between checking up on the status of the upcoming collections for House of LaRue and my private line, when Grayson interrupted, startling me. Concern stirred in me knowing I didn’t have a lot of time before the Board of Directors voted on the fate of the brand, so I had to work extra hard. But when I switched my attention to my private collection, there was a peacefulness that reminded me about what my heart desired: to create from a place of no stress and expectations.

Before I left Paris, I’d turned in the next three LaRue collections for my team at to handle. They could take care of the minute details like choosing buttons, ribbons, appliques and so forth. But I’d given them a wide selection and palette as my preference for them to work with. I’d been prepared for this long trip.

Turning, I watched Grayson standing at the counter talking to a brunette who offered him an inviting smile that reminded me of Maggie, the city’s solicitor. For a man used to women surrounding him, would he be satisfied being with only one?

That caution played out in my head—as it would in any sane woman’s head.

Sergeant Kennedy strode by and lifted her coffee cup to me. “Enjoying your weekend?”

Why was I meeting everyone in this tiny bookstore? “I am, thanks. You?”

She nodded and saw the book on the table. “You’re a fan of Sartre?”

“I admire his genius, but it takes a lot of focus to read his work.”

“Sure does. I studied philosophy back in the day. Anyway, enjoy your day.” She left the bookstore.

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