Nicola Marsh - Her Deal with the Devil

Spending more than five minutes in the company of Patrick Fourde was decidedly unsuitable . Or, more to the point, it elicited decidedly unsuitable thoughts.

He’d always had that effect on her. Been able to confuse and bamboozle and intrigue her with the barest hint of that lazy half-smile he had down pat.

She might have been immune in the past, but having him in her face again—bolder, brazen, still bamboozling—unnerved her far more now than he ever had.

‘Get to the point.’

He stalked around his desk and fired up his laptop, swivelling the screen to face her.

‘Bear with me a sec.’

His fingers flew over the keyboard and, increasingly curious, she propped herself on the edge of his desk.

The tip of his tongue protruded slightly as he concentrated on typing and her chest tightened in remembrance.

He’d used to do the same thing when they studied together. She’d known when he’d stopped goofing off—which had been rarely, admittedly—and started taking their studying seriously by that tell, and it was as endearing now as back then.

At the time, she’d done her best to give him the impression she couldn’t stand the sight of him. Had berated him constantly about slacking off and sketching instead of studying. Her chastisement had only served to stir him up further and he’d deliberately make fun of her work or call time out for a coffee.

Interesting how his doodling had probably been a prelude to his career in fashion, an outlet for his creativity. And to see him now, CEO of a branch of a world-renowned fashion house, made her feel ashamed she’d given him such a hard time.

Then again, considering the amount of time he’d spent poking fun at her study timetables and subject spreadsheets, her guilt quickly faded.

Whatever he was doing now, it had captured his attention and given her an opportunity to study him. In his flawlessly fitted charcoal suit and open-necked black shirt, perched behind a glass-topped desk large enough to fit an entire classroom, with the skyline of Melbourne surrounding him with three hundred and sixty degrees of floor to ceiling windows fifty storeys high, he looked like the consummate businessman.

A guy on top of the world, in total control and loving it. Who would have guessed the laid-back charmer had ambition?

He’d never shared any of his plans with her—had never showed any interest in business beyond teasing her about taking such a manic interest in Seaborns.

She’d been surprised when he’d absconded to Paris—had assumed it had been to live the high life on his family money.

After that first kiss she’d reluctantly kept an eye on him, had followed him on the internet for six months, surprised by mentions of him doing an internship at Fourde Fashion headquarters.

Pity those internet hits had also shown her the type of life she envied: parties and nightclub openings and theatre galas. The type of life she’d secretly craved but had been too focused on work, on proving herself, on seeking approval, to do anything about.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.