The Frenchman's Marriage Demand

by Chantelle Shaw

  ‘Actually, no, I gave Francine a rough idea of your size and she picked out a suitable outfit,’ Zac instantly burst her bubble and she fell back to earth with a bump.

  ‘Well, she wasted her time, because I’m not wearing it and I’m not going. What made you think I would agree?’ she demanded furiously, her eyes widening at the sensual gleam in his.

  ‘I was confident of playing on your sympathy for my secretary,’ he said coolly, ‘but, failing that, I can think of several other methods of persuasion that we’d both enjoy—although they may well result in us being late for dinner.’ His slow smile triggered alarm bells and she bit back her retort as her mind fantasised about how he would bend her to his will. With ease, that was for sure, she acknowledged on a wave of self-disgust. Just the thought of his hands and mouth caressing her was enough to send liquid heat pooling between her thighs. If he touched her, kissed her again, she seriously doubted her ability to resist him—and he knew it.

  She swallowed and tore her eyes from his mocking smile, tears of shame prickling behind her eyelids. If she wanted to retain any vestige of her self-respect, she would have to agree to go to dinner with him because she could not risk him persuading her.

  ‘It was kind of your PA to go to so much trouble,’ she said tightly, carefully not looking at him. ‘And because I know how unwell she must be feeling at the moment, I’ll agree to take her place tonight.’ Clutching the box he had given her, she headed for the door, her back ramrod straight as his softly spoken comment followed her.

  ‘I hadn’t expected you to give in so easily, chérie. What a pity,’ he drawled with genuine regret in his voice. ‘I was looking forward to…coaxing you round to my way of thinking.’

  Hours later Freya studied her reflection in the mirror. The dress Zac’s secretary had chosen for her was a deceptively simple floor-length black sheath with a lace overlay, narrow shoulder straps and a neckline that plunged lower than Freya was happy with. When she had first realised how much of her cleavage was exposed she’d seriously considered changing into something else, but challenging Zac was not a good idea and she was afraid that if he tried to coax her, he would almost certainly win. Instead she had piled her hair on top of her head, and slipped on a pair of high-heeled sandals. Now, deciding she was ready, she swept out to meet Zac, her pulse rate quickening at the flare of undisguised desire in his eyes when he caught sight of her.

  It gave her a fierce thrill of feminine triumph to realise that she was not the only one to be suffering from sexual frustration. Zac wanted her and was fighting the same battle to control his hunger. The knowledge empowered her and, instead of slinking shyly into the lounge, she sauntered confidently across the room, aware of his eyes lingering on the creamy swell of her breasts.

  He looked breathtaking in his black tuxedo and white shirt that contrasted with his olive-gold skin, but for the first time she felt almost his equal and she met his gaze steadily as faint colour briefly highlighted his sharp cheekbones. The atmosphere in the room throbbed with tension and for one wild, crazy moment she wondered how he would react if she walked over to him and kissed his mouth with all the pent-up longing she was struggling to control.

  Of course she did no such thing. She wasn’t completely stupid and, besides, one kiss would not have been enough for either of them. What she really wanted was to feel the hard length of him deep inside her as he drove her to the pinnacle of sexual ecstasy—and that was never going to happen again, she reminded herself firmly.

  She was shaken out of her erotic fantasies by his terse voice informing her that they had to leave, but she felt his brooding stare on her as they rode the lift down to the car park. The short journey to the hotel where they were meeting his American client was completed in silence, but once there Zac immediately exerted his usual charismatic charm as he ushered her into the bar and introduced her to Chester Warren and his wife.

  From then on Freya concentrated on chatting to Carolyn Warren and struck up an instant rapport with the older woman when she discovered that she originated from a small Hampshire village, a few miles inland from Freya’s home town. After cocktails at the hotel, they moved on to the wonderfully ornate Salle Garnier Opera House where the performance by the Monte Carlo Ballet Company was truly magical, and afterwards they returned to the hotel for a late dinner.

  ‘So, Freya, do you like living here in Monaco?’ Chester Warren queried when they had finished eating. ‘Carolyn tells me you’re from the same part of England where she was born—quaint little place, although I can never remember its name,’ he added cheerfully.

  Freya glanced across the dance floor to where Carolyn Warren was dancing with Zac. ‘I love Monaco,’ she replied, ‘but I don’t live here. I’m just a…friend of Zac’s and I’m staying here with my daughter for a few days. I’ll be going home soon,’ she added, wondering why the thought caused a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She would be glad to get back to reality, she told herself firmly. She didn’t belong here in this billionaire’s playground and she had no place in Zac’s life.

  The bleakness in her voice caused Chester to stare at her with undisguised curiosity. ‘Friends, eh,’ he drawled. ‘Well, Zac’s a fine man—as charming as his father was and just as ruthless in the boardroom,’ he said on a note of admiration. ‘I remember when Charles died a couple of years back, there were some on the Deverell board who believed Zac wasn’t up to the job of Chief Executive. He was seen as a playboy—you know, fast cars, plenty of women.’ Chester chuckled. ‘But to give him his dues, he worked like a dog to prove he was a worthy successor to his father even though he was pretty cut up at Charles’ death. Now, of course, Deverell’s profits are soaring and Zac has the full support of his board, but I hear he still works all the hours God sends.’ Chester winked at her conspiratorially. ‘Maybe he needs to get himself a wife, although he’s shown no signs yet of wanting to settle down. I guess it would take a pretty special lady to tame him.’

  ‘She would have to have the patience of a saint for a start,’ Freya agreed tightly, despising herself for the way her heart lurched at the idea of Zac getting married.

  ‘Why, chérie, you make me sound as though I’m an ogre,’ an amused voice sounded in her ear and she swung her head round sharply, her eyes clashing with Zac’s glinting gaze. ‘I’m not that unbearable, am I?’

  Cheeks flaming, Freya gave him a look that warned him he did not want to know her opinion of him, but to her annoyance he gave her one of his devastating smiles and tugged her to her feet before she could think of an excuse not to dance with him.

  ‘I obviously need to demonstrate my charming side,’ he murmured smoothly as he swept her across the dance floor.

  ‘Forget it,’ Freya snapped. ‘I know exactly what you are, Zac, and your famous charm does nothing for me.’ She tried to ease away from him but his arms tightened around her waist and she gave a shocked gasp when she felt the rigid proof of his arousal straining against her pelvis.

  ‘You disappoint me, ma petite, especially as you can be in no doubt of what you’re doing to me right now,’ he said mockingly. He placed his hand in the small of her back and exerted enough pressure so that she was forced up against him.

  ‘You are disgusting,’ Freya hissed as she tried to ignore the warmth that was flooding through her. The music slowed and Zac steered her around the dance floor, each subtle movement of his hips bringing his aroused body into closer contact with hers. In desperation Freya closed her eyes against the scorching heat of his gaze, but the sensations he was arousing in her only intensified and she shuddered when his hand inched lower down her back and made small, circular movements across the top of her buttocks. She stumbled and clung to him as the music faded to the periphery of her mind. Nothing existed but Zac, and the subtle, sensuous rub of his hand evoked a delicious, quivering excitement between her thighs.

  Without the barrier of their clothes he would be free to take her properly and thrust deep into her, she thought dreamily, the i
mage of him doing just that suddenly so stark in her head that her muscles clamped and to her utter shock she felt tiny spasms of pleasure radiate from her central core. She felt Zac tense, but she couldn’t prevent her climax and as she shook uncontrollably he dipped his head and captured her startled cry with his mouth.

  It was over almost instantly and as she came down reality intruded, bringing with it the music and hubbub of voices from the dance floor. Oh, God, what had she done? Had anyone seen? And was it even possible to reach a sexual climax when he hadn’t even touched her intimately? Dying with shame, she could not bear to look at him, but her eyes seemed drawn to him by a magnetic force. His face was a rigid mask, his skin stretched taut over the knife-edge of his cheekbones while his eyes gleamed with sensual promise beneath his heavy lids.

  She stared up at him in desperation, silently daring him to comment as his lip curled into a slow, mocking smile.

  ‘You are hungry, chérie,’ he drawled softly. ‘If I’d known I would have followed my instincts when I first saw you in that dress tonight and cancelled dinner.’

  Freya swallowed her retort as he led her back to their table, aware that she was not in a position to say anything when her body had behaved so abominably. To her utter relief no one else in the room seemed to have noticed her making a spectacle of herself, but Zac would never let her forget her moment of weakness, she thought on a wave of panic. He knew now she was his for the taking whenever he chose. But somehow she would have to resist him before he damaged her self-esteem permanently.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IT WAS almost midnight when they bid Chester and Carolyn Warren goodnight and drove back to the penthouse. Freya wished she were tired but to her dismay she felt wide awake and filled with a wild, reckless energy. Those few moments of madness on the dance floor with Zac had inflamed her senses and left her body aching for his full possession—but it was going to be disappointed.

  She intended to go straight to her room the moment they entered the apartment, but Zac’s butler, Laurent, greeted them with a tray of coffee and petits fours that he had prepared specially for their return. ‘I’d really like to go to bed,’ she muttered to Zac as he ushered her into the lounge in the wake of the butler.

  ‘And upset Laurent?’ His eyebrows raised a notch. ‘You’re a brave woman.’

  Stifling a groan, she dredged up a smile and accepted a cup of frothy cappuccino from the butler. The last thing she needed right now was the additional stimulation of caffeine, she thought gloomily as she watched Zac drain his cup in two gulps before he crossed to the bar and poured himself a cognac.

  ‘Would you like a nightcap with your coffee?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ she replied hastily. What she needed was something to knock her senseless for the next twelve hours and prevent her disturbing fantasies about Zac, but, although getting blind drunk was tempting, she decided that her loss of control tonight had been embarrassing enough to last her a lifetime.

  She stirred her coffee and glanced up at Zac, who was standing at the window staring out into the darkness. ‘When did your father die?’ she asked him quietly, recalling her conversation with Chester Warren. ‘Chester said it was two years ago, which was when we met, but you never said anything and I had no idea you were grieving.’

  Zac shrugged dismissively. ‘My father died nine months before I met you and my grief was a private matter which was nothing to do with you or our relationship.’

  He sounded so cold, so clinical, that Freya shivered. Zac kept his life compartmentalised into separate boxes and had clearly never considered allowing her into the box marked personal. ‘But if you’d told me I might have been able to…I don’t know—’ she broke off helplessly ‘—help in some way.’

  ‘How?’ he demanded tersely. ‘You couldn’t have brought him back and I did not need help. I dealt with my grief.’ He had neither looked for, nor wanted, sympathy, he brooded grimly, and he had been determined to deal with the loss of his father in his own way, which for the most part had been to block it out of his mind and get on with his life.

  After his twin sisters had died a few months after birth, his mother had sunk into a deep depression that had lasted for most of his adolescence. He had been shocked by the power of love and had viewed it as a destructive emotion that had wreaked havoc on his parents’ lives, and he had decided that he would never be held hostage to his emotions.

  When his father died, his mother had been distraught and once again he had felt helpless in the face of her overwhelming grief. But Freya’s soft smile and unashamedly eager sensuality had been a welcome relief from the surfeit of Yvette Deverell’s emotions. He hadn’t wanted to talk about grief or loss; he had wanted to forget everything and enjoy her glorious body—until he’d discovered that she hadn’t been giving herself exclusively to him.

  Zac’s shuttered expression warned Freya that he did not welcome her intrusion into an area of his life that he had never spoken of before, but she pushed on doggedly, determined to learn more about this man who was to all intents and purposes still a stranger to her. ‘Chester told me that you felt you had to work particularly hard to prove to the Deverell board that you would be a worthy successor to your father. If you had explained why you practically lived at your office, I would have understood,’ she insisted.

  ‘But instead you grew bored of waiting for me and looked elsewhere for sex.’ Zac gave a harsh laugh. ‘Mon Dieu, I satisfied you every night, but it wasn’t enough, was it, chérie? You were insatiable, you wanted me on hand morning, noon and night, and when I didn’t give you enough attention you acted like a spoilt brat.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ Freya defended herself. ‘I wanted us to have a normal life like other couples, to spend weekends together and the occasional evenings rather than you coming home at midnight and taking me to bed like I was a…a whore you paid to pleasure you.’ She set down her coffee-cup with a clatter, her whole body tensing in rejection when Zac strode across the room and stood, towering over her.

  ‘But that’s exactly what you were,’ he said savagely. ‘I kept you as my mistress and paid for every conceivable luxury you could want, in return for your…services.’ The withering contempt in his eyes as he stared down at her made her feel sick and she shook her head wildly.

  ‘I never asked you to buy me clothes and jewellery. I never asked you for anything, apart from your time. I wanted you, Zac, not the things you could give me,’ she whispered, but he snorted impatiently and dropped down onto the sofa next to her, trapping her against the cushions.

  ‘I know exactly what you wanted, and when you decided that you weren’t getting enough from me, you slept with your foppish artist.’

  ‘I did not sleep with Simon.’ Hurt and frustration exploded inside her and she lashed out at him, only to have him capture her hands and drag her across his lap.

  ‘The bodyguard saw you,’ he said with a steely calm that alarmed her more than if he had shouted at her. His eyes were hard and utterly implacable and she gasped in shock when he caught hold of the straps of her dress and dragged them down her arms with such force that the material ripped. The bodice of her dress instantly slipped down, leaving her breasts exposed, and when she fought manically to free herself from his hold he pushed her so that she was lying flat on her back.

  ‘Zac, don’t,’ she pleaded fearfully, terrified not of him but of herself and the certainty that she would not be able to resist him. His barely leashed savagery only added to her feverish excitement and, although she hated herself, she could feel her body’s treacherous response when he skimmed his hands over her ribcage and cupped her breasts in his palms.

  ‘Don’t deny that you want me, Freya,’ he warned softly. ‘Not after what happened on the dance floor tonight. You don’t know how close I was to spreading you across the nearest table and taking you in front of a room full of onlookers,’ he growled, his voice thick and his accent heavily pronounced as he relived those few seconds when she had trembled in his
arms. The shocked confusion in her green eyes had driven him to the edge and since then his arousal had been a throbbing force that he was impatient to assuage.

  ‘That shouldn’t have happened,’ she muttered, her face flaming. ‘It was just a horribly embarrassing physical reaction. I haven’t dated anyone since we split up. Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t when I had Aimee to care for. But I have the same urges as anyone else.’ Although it seemed that only Zac could satisfy those urges, she conceded bleakly. If he could bring her to a climax simply by dancing with her, what chance did she stand if he decided to make love to her properly? she wondered despairingly. But it no longer seemed to matter; his hands were gently moulding her breasts and now his thumb pads were stroking across the tight peaks of her nipples, backwards and forwards until the pleasure was almost unbearable and she felt a sharp tug of desire.

  This was dangerous territory and she should beat a retreat, her brain warned, but a curious weakness seemed to have invaded her limbs and she could do nothing but watch as he lowered his head and flicked his tongue across one sensitive crest. With a low cry she put out her hands to push him away, but her wayward fingers strayed to his shirt buttons and worked them free before she pushed the material aside and revelled in the feel of his warm golden skin beneath her fingertips.

  It had been so long since she had touched him. She loved the solid strength of his chest and powerful shoulders—loved him, whispered a tiny voice in her head. She was his, totally, and she murmured her approval when he transferred his mouth to her other breast and drew her nipple fully into his mouth. The exquisite sensation built on the need that had begun on the dance floor and was now a greedy, clamouring ache to feel him inside her.

  Zac stared down at her flushed face and muttered something beneath his breath before he claimed her mouth in a kiss of pure possession, drawing a response from her that she could no longer deny. A tremor ran through his big body and he tore his mouth from hers to drag her dress over her hips. He loved watching her unguarded response to him and held her gaze as he drew her knickers down and pushed her thighs apart with deliberate intent.