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  Imani rolled her lips in. As if she were holding back her words. "I see you're not taking it off the table."

  I let my gaze slide over her magnificent cheekbones and the smooth skin of her neck to her delicate collarbone, then dropped it lower to her breasts. No, I was certainly not taking it off the table. I licked my lips. "How about we call me a pragmatist. You and I clearly have some chemistry, so there’s really no point in denying it. Besides, what happens in Paris stays in Paris."

  "There won't be anything happening in Paris."

  "You sound confident in that."

  "That's because I am. The other night won’t be happening again."

  "Understood." I should probably have warned her there was nothing I loved more than a challenge.

  Chapter Ten

  Xander

  “Alexander, you have to stop this campaign against Alistair."

  I pinched the bridge of my nose as I pulled into a parking spot at Heathrow. Damn my brother for telling her what we were up to. "Hello to you too, Mother." I loved my mother. But our relationship was complicated. Whenever she called, the overwhelming emotion was guilt. For the both of us. She, because she still felt responsible for what had happened. And I, because I could never seem to let it go and give her the absolution she craved.

  She sighed. "Alexander—"

  "Mum," I interrupted. "You realize you’re not going to talk me out of anything. It’s already in motion."

  "You know how much I love you. My request has less to do with Alistair than it has to do with you. We need to put all of that behind us and move on."

  Move on. "Maybe that was easy for you to do, Mother. But not for me. I can’t move on. I wake up every day and my first thoughts are about Silas and Alistair and what they’ve done. You might have been able to walk away from their sins unscathed, but I haven’t been able to shed it as quickly."

  "Why do you think that I walked away from it? There isn’t a day I don’t think about you or your brother. I have to live with the fact that I failed you and Alexi every day. I wish I had known, wish I had seen. Wish I hadn’t been blind. I wish I'd been the one to take that man's life. But what you’re doing—you're only picking at the scab. Making it bleed unnecessarily. What do you need from me to stop this?”

  Through clenched teeth I muttered, “I don’t need you to say anything. I’ve never needed you to say anything.” I just wanted this to be over. And this was the way I saw to end it.

  “I could tell you until I’m blue in the face how worried I am. I failed you. I know that. But you have to stop. If you want to punish someone, punish me."

  I'd gotten over the anger at my mother years ago. I wasn’t angry with her anymore. Alistair, on the other hand, would not be so lucky. "Mum, I'm not trying to punish you, I swear." I followed the signs to the private airstrip. "This is something I have to do. I wish it didn't hurt you, but it's important to me. It has to be done. Alistair made it a point to destroy my life. And he's benefiting from his father's work. I can’t let that stand."

  Deep down, I knew I was wasting my breath. She would never understand. And I would never deliberately hurt her by telling her exactly why I hated Alistair so much. As far as she was concerned, I hated Alistair simply because he was a McMahon. I didn't have the heart to tell her it was so much more than that. It would destroy her if she knew. She'd been devastated when she eventually found out about the abuse by Silas, and I would rather not do that to her again. No. This vendetta was mine. "Mum, I promise, I'm not trying to make your life more difficult. And I'll leave your name out of it. But I have to do this. I wish I could explain, but I can’t."

  "Look, I think you’re long overdue for a visit home. Or even better, you, Alexi and I can take a holiday, just us. Reconnect."

  I found it funny how she'd left my father out of the mix. The old man and Lex could barely stand to be in the same room together, so a happy family vacation was out of the question. "Mum, I’m leaving for a trip. But I’ll call you when I get back. We'll have dinner."

  She sighed. "There's no changing your mind, is there?"

  "You know me better than that by now." At the end of this weekend I'd have Alistair exactly where I wanted him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Imani

  Paris. It was official; I was crazy for real. Fe thought so. I might not have been exactly forthcoming about how I met Xander. Or what I was doing on this getaway for the long weekend. But I’d go and come back with nearly all of what I needed for Ebony. It was only four days. In Paris of all places. Didn’t mean this whole plan wasn’t shit-balls crazy. It was one thing to pretend to be an escort for a night. It was another to have to pull off a lie under scrutiny for four days.

  "All right?"

  I brought my head up to glance at Xander. His slate-gray eyes regarded me closely. And I was mesmerized. Framed by thick, dark, sooty lashes, they focused on me with such intensity. He had this way of looking at everything as if he wanted to see into its soul. Granted, he was a photographer, so that made sense. He had to capture emotion from all sorts of things. "You're staring."

  He shrugged then sat back against his seat as our car whizzed toward Paris. "You're beautiful. I'm sure you’re accustomed to it."

  I rubbed the end of my nose. "No, actually. People don’t usually stare at me."

  "Then they're blind."

  "If you say so."

  The corner of his lips tipped up. "You'd think you’d believe me since I photograph beautiful things for a living."

  Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I changed the subject. “We should probably go over the cover story again.”

  The corner of his lips twisted into that smirk I found so sexy. "Do you study all your roles like this?"

  "I want this to be my profession, so yes. I live, breathe, and eat my roles. It’s how I met Miriam. I’d asked Charles if he could put me in touch with an actual escort for research purposes. I made it a point not to ask him how he’d found her."

  Xander’s laugh filled the car. When he smiled or laughed it completely transformed his face, making him look younger, less intense, and more mischievous. “I imagine he found her the old-fashioned way.”

  “Doubt it since he’s gay.” I shrugged. “So to be clear, the main two people we have to convince are Jean LeClerc and Alistair McMahon.”

  Xander nodded. “The one to worry about is Alistair. He’s actively trying to keep me off the board."

  “And you’re not going to tell me why?” He shook his head, but I pressed a little harder. “Knowing could help me do my job better.”

  “You don't need to know why.”

  "Fine. How much of a problem is he going to be?"

  "A big one. He only has one vote out of ten, but he has sway. And stay away from him unless I’m with you." There was something about the way the muscle in his jaw worked that told me he was deadly serious.

  Way to add more pressure. “Understood.” I tapped the folder. “I know this folder backward and forward. How well do you know it?”

  “I’ve been planning this for a long time. I know every detail of that folder.”

  I raised a brow. "How long have we been dating?"

  Xander answered smoothly "Nine months."

  "I’m starting you off easy, hotshot. How did we meet?"

  He gave me one of his patented half smiles. "I went to meet a friend, who was a no-show. You were there instead."

  I flushed, but deliberately held his gaze. "Not bad. Do you see this relationship as long term?"

  Xander's gaze never left my face, but I saw a shadow cross over his expression ever so briefly. "Yes."

  I wrinkled my nose. “You’re going to have to do something to sell it, Xander. Otherwise you’re wasting your time taking me with you. You need to make me believe." I cleared my throat. This was what I did best. Sliding my hand into Xander’s, I focused on him and smiled. "We're in love. I can’t remember my life before you walked into it with your over-confident attitude. But underneath that is a
vulnerable man I can love, talk to."

  Xander's lips parted and he looked like he wanted to say something, but I paused him with fingertips against his lips. "I can’t imagine going a day without your touch." Against my fingertips, I could feel the slight suction as he inhaled sharply.

  Xander coughed and removed my fingers from his lips. "Well, fuck. You are an actress. You’ll make this easy." His silvery gaze drifted to my lips. "You’re very good."

  “Thank you. I think about it more like telling the truth of the character rather than I’m making it up as I go along. It helps.”

  “You can almost make me believe, and that is a feat.” He rubbed the tip of his nose with his knuckle. “There is one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’ll be photographed with me. It could show up in a tabloid or two.”

  “Excuse me?” No one said anything about this being public fodder for tabloids.

  "Easy now, love. I can’t control them. I’m in the public eye because of my family, and let’s face it, I’ve cultivated something of a reputation. They’ll be curious about you, so you might be photographed. I’ll try to keep it to a minimum.”

  “How long are they going to be photographing me?”

  “Probably while we’re in Paris. Then when we get back, they might try to catch a glimpse of you. But if you just go about your day, they’ll see there’s nothing interesting going on. Then a couple of weeks after I get the job, we’ll stage a public breakup. They’ll pretty much vanish after that. Unless of course you start dating your costar right after that.”

  My body went rigid, as if I’d been volunteered for the ice bucket challenge. He doesn’t know how you feel about Ryan or why. Let it go. “That won’t be happening.”

  He was more astute than I gave him credit for, though, and he studied me closely. “You don’t like him? And given your posture, you have good cause not to like him.” He cocked his head. “Care to tell me what that is?”

  I pinned him with resting bitch face number one. The one that said Back off. “Are we about to start sharing our deepest and darkest? You want to tell me why you hate Alistair McMahon?”

  Those perfect lips of his flattened into a thin line. “Fair enough.”

  Something tickled my memory banks. “Wait, last year I remember some big splash about some royal cousin or something in trouble for cheating on his girlfriend. Chase something. Was that you? I remember the papers last year. Is that what it's going to be like?"

  Xander shook his head. "That was my brother, Alexi. The only reason that was even a problem was because of who they thought he was engaged to at the time. It won't be like that, I promise."

  "I'm having a hard time believing you. I don’t want my life disrupted over this."

  "And it won't be—you have my word. This will all be over in a couple of weeks."

  "Somehow you're not inspiring confidence."

  “Remember, from the moment we arrive, unless you’re in your bedroom or the loo, assume that everyone is watching and cataloging your every move, so we have to be on. Can you do this?”

  "I can do anything for a few days. I'm ready for this if you are." I forced a smile I didn't entirely feel. It was only four days. I’d survive.

  Xander

  The rest of car ride through Paris, I did my best not to fidget. It didn’t help that I could smell Imani's perfume. I honestly couldn't believe she'd agreed to this madness.

  After all these years, I was close to finally putting this shit to bed once and for all. Next to me, Imani stared out the window, eyes wide. She might as well have been oohing and aahing for all her wonder. "I take it you’ve never been to Paris before."

  She shook her head. "Fe, my best friend, and I were supposed to go last term, but I got an audition so we had to cancel, then work and stuff. But it's top of my list. Do you think I’ll get a chance to sneak away for a couple of hours sometime this weekend? To explore a little?"

  Why hadn’t it even occurred to me that she would want to see Paris? "Sure. If you want, I can take you around. I'm very familiar with the city. I actually have an apartment I use in the 7th Arrondissement right across from the Eiffel Tower. I would have suggested we stay there, but I think LeClerc and Alistair want to keep an eye on me."

  "You don’t have to do that. I know this is a job interview for you and I’m the required arm candy."

  I placed my hand over hers and she stilled, her eyes pinning to our fingers. Very deliberately, I wrapped my fingers around hers and squeezed lightly. "I'd like to. I never get to show anyone the city. I'm usually working with models who are either in and out or know the city as well as I do. And let's face it, the cafés would be wasted on them."

  Imani chortled. "Good point, because I'm pretty sure I can eat my weight in plain chocolate right about now."

  She was hungry. Damn. Only three hours with a girlfriend and I was already failing. "Why didn’t you say you were hungry?"

  She shrugged. "I know you’re on a schedule. I figured I could eat once we got settled. Don’t worry, I’m not at hangry levels yet."

  I frowned. "Hangry?"

  Her answering dimpled smile was completely arresting. "So hungry that you’re pretty pissed off about it and might eat someone's arm to slake the hunger."

  "That's bloody fantastic. Note to self, keep you well fed."

  "We’ll have you slanging like a Yank in no time."

  The car pulled into a loose gravel driveway surrounded by seven- to eight-foot hedges. We drove for another full minute before the chateau came into view.

  Imani's gasp was audible. "This looks like something out of a Dumas novel."

  We were met by a butler wearing a tuxedo at the front stairs. "Good afternoon, Monsieur Chase. Mademoiselle. Bienvenue à Chateau Millieux. Gerard will show you to your room, and your bags will be brought up shortly." His French was perfectly accented, but when he spoke English, it was apparent he was British.

  I knew I should be focused on the job at hand, but I kept paying attention to Imani's reactions. Something as simple as the floor fascinated her. Polished white marble lay at our feet. Priceless art hung on the walls leading to the grand staircase.

  "I think I should have brought my roller skates," she muttered in a hushed tone.

  "You have your own set of skates?"

  "I'd better, since I'm a derby girl."

  I wasn’t sure what that was, but my mind, ever helpful, conjured up every dirty connotation it could dream up. "Dare I ask what a derby girl is?"

  "If I'm to stay your girlfriend, we're going to have to do a crash course in all things American and fun."

  Our room was on the top floor of the four-story chateau on the south side, so the lighting was beautiful. The furnishings were opulent. A beautiful four-poster bed dominated the space, despite the grand size of the room.

  Imani's gaze flickered to mine. One bed.

  Another reason why I would have preferred to stay at my own place in the city and commuted out. "Don’t worry. I'll take the couch."

  Imani narrowed her gaze on the settee. "No dice. You’re a lot bigger than I am. Take the bed."

  There was no way. I might be a prat, but I was gentleman enough to give it to her. "Not going to happen. But if you like, we can share."

  Her gaze flickered to the bed, then back at me. "Not gonna happen."

  "Then it's settled, you will take the bed."

  My gaze focused in on her full lips as her tongue peeked out to moisturize them. "Can I ask you a question?"

  "Could I stop you from asking?" The last thing I needed was her attempting to probe into my personal life… again.

  "Probably not, but I suppose you could not answer."

  I dragged off my tie and unbuttoned the top button of my shirt. "Then go ahead."

  "Why didn’t you bring a real girlfriend to this interview?"

  Because I would have wanted to keep someone I cared about as far away from this shit as possible. Alistair was toxic. And I h
ad to be just as ugly to do what I needed to do. But I couldn’t say that. "It's simpler, easier, more detached. Bring a woman to Paris and all of a sudden she starts to get ideas."

  She scoffed and fingered the gossamer window hangings. "You’re a real romantic, aren’t you?"

  I grinned.

  She rolled her eyes. "I think we're due downstairs."

  Chapter Twelve

  Imani

  Of all the ideas I’d ever had in my life, this was probably not one of my best ones. I was playing a part. I just had to remember that. None of this was real. Smoke and mirrors. Then why was I letting him touch me? Because you're pretending to be his girlfriend, idiot. Touching is part of the deal.

  I really had to start thinking through my plans better. It had seemed like such a good idea to slip my hand into his before coming down for cocktails. A fantastic idea, really. It was innocuous enough but was something real couples did. Or so I remembered from my old life when I’d had relationships. But then as soon as the doors had opened, there had been people in the hallway.

  Xander had probably taken his cue from me, but the kiss he'd planted on my shoulder didn't feel like an act. It felt… real. At least the shivers it gave me were real. The stubble on his cheek had tickled my skin as his lips had slowly glided over me. Xander Chase was walking sin. And he very well knew it. It was in the confidence of the way he walked. The tilt of his head as he talked to women. He was aware of how good-looking he was and used it to his full advantage.

  As he introduced me around, he was mildly flirtatious but never overboard, always deferring to me like a boyfriend would. Always keeping me within two feet of touching distance. As we traversed the white marble from the foyer, he gently guided me with a hand on my lower back. But every single touch, caress, and glide brought the lick of heat with it. It was making me half mad with lust. When I slanted him a glance, he blinked at me innocently.