“Thanks for the belated information. I’ll keep that in mind next time I come to Paris to look for a woman who refuses to talk to me.”

I blush and look away as I fight the usual attraction to him whenever he’s in my proximity. Gosh, seeing him here makes me acknowledge how much I’ve missed him. But I fight to keep a blank face. I must not encourage him at all. He can’t notice how happy I am to see him. Who knows why he is here? Work might have brought him to Paris, and he decided to pop in to see me.

The memory of him telling that man at the bar that I’m nothing but a casual fling flashes through my mind, and I push away any warm feeling at seeing him.

“What are you doing here, Miles?” I question coldly.

He stiffens noticeably, and his eyes darken. “Isn’t it obvious? I came here to see you.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “Why? Haven’t I made it clear enough that I don’t want to speak to you? We’re done.”

“Fine. You don’t have to speak. Just listen.”

“Oh, I listened. And I happened to hear what you said to your friend the opening night at the Met. I’m nothing but a casual fling, it’s just sex to let off steam, Ashlyn is your world, and you don’t want a serious relationship.”

A deep frown creases his forehead. “You heard that?”

Belatedly realizing that I just admitted to overhearing a private conversation, I flush. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was passing by and couldn’t help it.”

His frown deepens. “Was that all you heard? Did you listen to the end of the conversation?”

“I didn’t have to. It’s all self-explanatory. You don’t want a commitment because of your late wife and Ashlyn. I understand that, but I’m not the kind of woman who is satisfied with only acasual fling, as you put it. So, as it appears that we both want different things, there’s no need to continue the fake relationship . . . if it could even be called that.”

He rubs a hand across his jaw. “Giselle, you misunderstood. I—”

“Please stop, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Stop interrupting me and listen,” he demands with a tinge of anger in his voice.

“I’ve already heard all that you have to say.”

“No, you haven’t!” He crosses the short distance between us and grabs my hand. His eyes lock with mine, and what I wanted to say flies out of my head as I gawk at him.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were with someone. I’ll come back later,” Ines says as she barges into my office and then turns around on her heel, a confused smile plastered on her face. She leaves before I can call her back.

I create some distance between Miles and me and turn my back to him. “This is my workplace, Miles. You shouldn’t have come here.”

“Where else could I have gone to see you? I went to your apartment in New York, but you refused to see me. Even at the Met. I had no choice.”

“Please leave.”

“Not until you agree to have dinner with me to talk things through.”

To my consternation, when I turn around, I see him pulling out a chair and sitting with a determined posture.

“You can’t stay here.” If Pierre were to pop in, as usual, he would create a scene. And Miles looks bigger and meaner.

“Fine! I’ll have dinner with you,” I reluctantly agree.

“Great.” He pushes himself to his feet. “I’m staying at the Buddha-Bar Hotel. Meet me at the restaurant at seven.”

I nod.

“If you don’t show up, I’ll be here every day until you hear what I came here to tell you. And that’s a promise.” He strolls to the door, pauses, and turns around. “It’s good to see you again, Giselle. You look radiant.”

I grit my teeth after his departure and quickly take a seat when a dizzy spell threatens to overwhelm me. It’s all for the best. Finally, I can tell him that I’m pregnant.

And also, that he won’t be needed.