Manhattan's Most Scandalous Reunion--An Uplifting International Romance

by Dani Collins

  It buzzed again. Then again.

  He picked it up to read the screen.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Not at all.” His mouth pushed sideways in something that bordered on smugness.

  He started to put it down, but it buzzed again.

  “Something about your deal in Berlin?”

  “No,” he said mildly, but when his gaze met hers, there was a light in his eyes that was pure, wicked enjoyment.

  Her heart shrank, then exploded with alarm.

  “You did not tell Andre to text you.” She had expressly told the man she would be in touch if and when she wanted to know how things were going. Otherwise, he should maintain radio silence.

  “I plead the Fifth.” Reve set the phone facedown again and went back to eating, grinning around his fork.

  She stared at his phone, not realizing she was holding her breath until it buzzed again. She gasped for air and looked at Reve.

  He lifted his brows.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake! Tell me. No, don’t. Wait. Do I want to know?”

  “It’s not that big a deal,” he said with a hitch of his shoulder, but he was shaking with quiet laughter. “You’ve had a bid on the unfinished gown, as is, with the sewing machine and shoes. It’s from one of Andre’s colleagues who designs window displays for upscale boutiques in Asia.” He reached for his phone and read, “‘He set a reserve bid of twenty-five thousand dollars and has recommended a couple more buyers fly in to view the rest of your collection.’”

  “No! That’s...” She started to pick up her glass of orange juice but didn’t trust herself. She pointed and asked the air hostess, “Can you put a little vodka in this for me, please?”

  “He also has an order for the pantsuit.” Reve flicked at his screen. “Only two hundred, but he’s certain that will go up.”

  “Make it a double.” She smiled heroically at the woman.

  “There’s been a very friendly tweet from Vogue after their sneak peek. They’re teasing a full column to be posted later today. The photos are also gaining momentum on social media.”

  “Please stop.” She set her elbows on either side of her plate, her head so dizzy she had to brace it in her hands.

  “Wait.” He frowned as he read. “Nina.” His voice was somewhere between awe and affection. “I was already proud as hell of you, but this...?” He licked his lips, smiling with relish as he read aloud, “‘Kelly Bex has requested an appointment. Per Nina’s instructions, I explained that Ms. Bex has been critical of this designer’s work in the past and so the designer felt there was no value in Ms. Bex attending.’ Ruthless.”

  “It’s true,” she said with a defensive shrug, then bit her lip. “But I also asked myself what you would do and decided she could kick rocks.”

  He touched his chest. “I feel like my little girl is all grown-up.”

  They both dissolved into laughter. The dampness in her eyes wasn’t humor, though. It was more poignant than that. This was the man she’d fallen for, the one she had imagined making a life with. The closer they grew, however, the clearer the gaps between them became.

  There’s still time to distance yourself.

  I will.

  She didn’t blame him for that.

  But it still broke her heart.

  * * *

  “I’ve always wanted to come to Paris, and I can’t explore it!” Nina lamented, her face pressed to the car window as the Eiffel Tower appeared on the far side of the Seine.

  “I’ve booked us a private dinner cruise so you can see some of it.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” She sat back.

  “It’s done.” He brushed it aside. “We both have to eat. I never take time to enjoy the city when I’m here.” And he wanted to make the most of the little time they had.

  There’s still time to distance yourself.

  He became perversely annoyed every time she said something like that. He could take care of himself. She was the one he was worried about, thinking she could put on a pair of sunglasses and wander around like Sherlock Holmes looking for clues.

  They left the river and headed into the Eighth Arrondissement.

  “That’s Oriel’s building,” he said as they approached it. He recognized it from the street view online. “The yellow one.”

  Nina sat up, alert. “She’s not there. She’s in Mumbai. They had dinner with her husband’s sister last night—which you would know if you went anywhere near a gossip site.” She swung her head around to flash him a teasing smile. “Their photos are everywhere.”

  She leaned to look upward against the window as they passed the building.

  “Oh, shoot.” She quickly slouched into her seat again. “I think there was a photographer waiting for her on the stoop. He jumped to his feet when he saw me.” She craned to look out the rear window. “He might be following us. I’m really sorry.”

  He shrugged. “We’re catching the train in the morning.”

  “To Luxembourg? You’re coming with me?”

  “I am.” He might not read gossip sites, but he had devoted some time to reading up on Oriel. The model was being mobbed everywhere she went.

  That sort of attention might be bearable if there was a visible endpoint, the way interest died down after a court case was settled. Oriel was expecting, though. Each detail of her pregnancy was being picked apart and, if history was anything to go by, the world had an endless appetite for celebrity babies. There was also speculation that Lakshmi’s manager had forced her to give up her baby, and the mystery of Oriel’s biological father had yet to be solved.

  Given all of that, Lakshmi’s story was destined to make headlines forever. Once Nina came forward, the publicity would explode exponentially.

  Reve had no desire to be in the middle of that, not only because he loathed the idea of his own scandal being dredged up. He was never happy when that happened, but he’d learned to live with it. No, he was dreading his history smearing Nina. She had enough to deal with.

  He couldn’t bring himself to let her face all of this alone, though. Better to help her fly under the radar a little longer and enjoy her last few days of anonymity.

  His driver turned onto Avenue Montaigne and stopped outside his building. They hurried inside before any scooters caught up and, moments later, entered a space that seamlessly mixed old-world authenticity with modern expectations. The attic space above his unit had been opened to the main floor, creating high ceilings and skylights that allowed light to pour down to the living space on the main floor.

  A wine and a charcuterie board awaited them. Nina ignored the pinwheel of meats, cheeses, fruit, crackers, nuts and olives, instead swinging wide the doors to the narrow terrace that ran the length of the apartment. She plucked a sprig from an herb plant in the pot and rubbed it between her palms, inhaling the fragrance before sighing as she looked out at the cityscape.

  “I’m starting to think it would be worth the notoriety if it meant I could walk into the boutiques I’ve dreamed of seeing my whole life,” she said with a wistful sigh.

  “Come.” He took her hand and tugged her back into the apartment.

  He felt the jolt go through her. It sent a spark of electricity straight into his groin.

  He was leading her toward a bedroom for other reasons, but the way her lips parted and her expression grew soft and receptive nearly fried all of his best intentions.

  “It might take you some time to dress for dinner.” His voice wasn’t quite even. “You should get started picking out your clothes.”

  “Why? If it’s a private cruise, I can go like this, can’t—? Oh, Reve.”

  She stepped into the spare bedroom where the bed had been removed and racks brought in from a dozen of the most exclusive haute couture designers. Not the dominant names exported worldwide, but the up-and-comer
s who had moved to Paris from Tokyo, Seoul, Saint Petersburg and São Paulo.

  She sagged into him as though confronting something too monumental to face. Her fist closed on his shirtfront while she stared and stared.

  “What have you done? That’s seven figures. Easily.”

  “I don’t expect you to keep all of them.”

  The look on her face was worth every penny if she did, though. Her mouth trembled and her eyes gleamed. There was awe and excitement, anticipation and reverence.

  It disappeared as she turned her face into the crook of his neck, hugging him so hard she shook with it.

  Reve had never had Christmas as a child. As an adult, he went through the motions of bonuses and corporate gifts because it was expected, not because he really understood the celebration. It sounded a lot like doing someone else’s shopping and then lying about it. Santa was, at best, a manipulation tactic. At worst, he was a cruelty against less fortunate children who were striving to be “good” for a promise that wouldn’t manifest.

  This was it, though. This was Christmas—giving someone something they had always wanted. Taking Nina by surprise and witnessing pure joy on her face was filling his chest with a swell of pride and pleasure and a sense that they now shared something deeply personal and precious.

  He could hardly breathe as he prompted her to go into the room. “Don’t you want to meet your new friends?”

  She was still shaking. She was crying.

  His heart lurched.

  “Nina. I thought you would like this.”

  “I do. I’m so excited I can’t bear it.” She drew back and pushed the heel of her shaking hand across her cheek. “But I don’t want to lose myself in that because...” She looked up at him and her chin trembled. She wiped another track of tears from her other cheek. “Because it takes away from my time with you. I want to be with you, Reve. Like, with you. I know it’s not forever, but for what little time we have.”

  She played with the button on his shirt, and his libido resounded like a struck gong, singing yes!

  Then a harder, crueler sensation pierced into his stomach.

  “That’s not what this is, Nina.” He dropped his arms from around her and stepped back. “I’m not trying to bribe you into sleeping with me.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “THAT’S NOT WHAT I think.” She caught his hand as he started to move away. “Not anymore. But you’ve done so much for me—”

  “I’m not interested in being paid back for any of that,” he said coldly.

  “That’s not what I’m trying to do!” She let go of his hand and they glared at each other.

  She folded her arms and looked at the clothes.

  “You did nice things for me before, and I thought it meant you cared, really cared. And I built that into all these big assumptions based on what I’d always imagined I would have when I found the right man. When I realized... When I realized you didn’t love me, I thought all of those things you’d done were—”

  “I know what you thought,” he said through his teeth. His profile was hard as hammered iron.

  “I hated myself for being so blind, for wasting my time, myself, with someone so shallow.”

  She heard his sharp inhale.

  “But that’s not what you are,” she hurried to say, taking a step toward him. “And I realize now why you don’t have the same expectations I do. I respect that. You’re still a good person.”

  He snorted. “No, I’m not. And the more I learn about you, the more I realize what a bastard I was for getting involved with you. I didn’t mean to lead you on, but I did. If anything, this is me trying to buy your good opinion.” He waved at the clothes.

  “It’s working.”

  He swore under his breath and rejected that with a jerk of his head.

  “It’s true,” she insisted. “I needed to know that I wasn’t completely blind, Reve. That you really are generous and protective and thoughtful and have a core of integrity. I needed to know the man I fell for wasn’t a mirage.”

  “But I am,” he assured her.

  “No, you’re not.” She set her hand on the front of his shirt and let her fingernails slip between the buttons so her touch sat against his warm skin.

  “Don’t.” He caught her wrist.

  Beneath his tense expression she saw a flash of something that might have been stark need.

  “Don’t do this,” he said in a roughened voice that might have been an order or a plea. “Because I will take you to bed and I will hurt you again. Not because I want to, but because I can’t be the man you want. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

  “Really, Reve? Talk to me about how fair life is.” Her voice creaked. The things he’d told her on the plane were still sitting inside her, jagged as broken glass. “Life is never as simple as we want it to be. Even a dream as common as marriage and family is harder to achieve that it sounds. Look at my dad, losing the love of his life far too young. My sister, unable to carry the baby she desperately wants.”

  “Exactly why I won’t risk falling in love! I don’t want to expect good things and have them turn bad.”

  “I don’t expect you to fall in love. I don’t expect anything from you if we have sex.” She dipped her head against his chest. “I shouldn’t have expected anything before.”

  His hands came to her shoulders as if to push her away, yet there was no force in them. They rested there while tension gripped him.

  She lifted her gaze to his hungry, indecisive expression.

  Slowly she let her body lean into his. Tiny detonations began going off inside her as his warmth seeped through their clothing, past her skin and into her blood. Her throat and breasts and belly and thighs grew hot. She touched her mouth under his chin.

  His chest expanded and his hands shifted up her back.

  “I am only a man, you know.” His voice reverberated against her lips where she touched them next to his Adam’s apple. “And this is all I’ve been thinking about.”

  “Me, too.”

  He choked a laugh, already dropping his head, sealing their mouths together.

  The intensity of sensation that went through her might have alarmed her if his strong arms hadn’t closed around her, grounding her. Promising to keep her safe.

  She curled her arms around his neck and conveyed that he should kiss her harder, but he skated his mouth across her cheek to her ear and whispered, “Slowly.”

  His lips nibbled around the shell of her ear, his breath tickling until the hair on her scalp and arms stood up. Her knees softened and she gasped, “I don’t think I can wait.”

  “You will have to, though, won’t you?” His tongue dabbled at her earlobe. “Because I will not squander this time, Nina. Not one second of it.”

  What had she unleashed? A beast. A possessive, patient, tender, sensual beast. His arms tightening, his mouth went to her throat, and her nipples stung where they pressed against his chest.

  “Reve.” She roamed her hands over his flexing shoulders, standing on tiptoe and tilting her head so he could bite softly at the tendon where her neck joined her shoulder. He was hard. She could feel him against her mound. She was excited, but she wanted to savor this, too. She brought his mouth back to hers, and they shared a long, lazy, powerful kiss that became her entire existence.

  When she drew back, she blinked with incomprehension, surprised to find herself here, with him, in Paris.

  Lust shone from between his tangled lashes. He turned her and walked with himself glued to her back, ambling slowly and kissing her neck as he guided her into the master bedroom.

  “I’ve always liked this dress on you,” he said, sliding his hands over the brushed jersey against her stomach.

  “Why? Because it’s soft?” The wrap dress was comfortable and the mauve color flattering to her skin tone. She’d put it on for trave
l thinking if she was spotted, at least she would be wearing one of her own designs.

  “Because it’s sexy as hell. Short and flirty.” His hand traced along the belt to fiddle with the tails of the bow that draped her hip and then followed to where the skirt flap overlapped. “You think I haven’t been staring at your legs all day?”

  “These old things? They barely run.”

  “Hmm. Funny.” She felt his smile against her nape.

  The floor in the bedroom was parquet wood in a basket weave pattern. She lifted her gaze to a fireplace that looked through to a bathtub. There was a painting above it in silver and blue abstract ribbons. The massive bed was made up with white and gray bedding, and a translucent white curtain covered the pair of doors onto the terrace.

  “This is beautiful.” Romantic. Like a dream. A perfect fantasy, which was all this was.

  He said, “I can’t see anything but you,” and she was okay with fantasy.

  She sent him a look over her shoulder.

  He kissed her smile away, then said, “Before I get too distracted...” He went to the night table, withdrew a box of condoms from the drawer and turned it to find the expiration date. “Still good.” He left them next to the lamp.

  She had noticed he’d used one the other day, and even though a small pang of hurt had struck, she admonished herself that she had left him.

  “What’s wrong?” He came across and stilled the hands she was wringing, forcing her to lift her gaze to his.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nina. We can’t do this if we’re not going to be honest with each other.”

  “It’s fine that you’ve been with other people,” she blurted. “I didn’t expect any different.”

  “I haven’t been with anyone.” His head went back. “I used a condom the other day because I thought you might have been with someone. Maybe that boyfriend you left when you came to New York?”

  “He’s married now.”

  She wasn’t sure of the wave of stiff emotion encasing him, but she thought it might be defensiveness. Did he think it said something about how important she’d been to him that he hadn’t found anyone else?