Her Deal with the Devil

by Nicola Marsh

  He squeezed her hand, released it, his look away not inspiring her with confidence.

  ‘Before…?’ she prompted, her rampant curiosity filling in the blanks.

  Before he absconded to the Pacific with a Bond girl?

  Before he revealed his secret harem?

  Or, the most likely, before he headed back to Paris?

  ‘Everything’s up in the air at the moment, so I can’t really talk about it.’ He swiped a hand over his face. It did little to ease the tension lines bracketing his mouth. ‘I don’t want to lead you on or build false hopes. I can’t be any clearer than that.’

  ‘So what was the weekend about?’

  ‘Selfishness.’ He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, as if he couldn’t wait to escape. ‘Ever want something so badly when you finally get it you can’t quite believe it’s real?’

  Yeah, that was how she’d initially felt about assuming control of Seaborns. Until she’d realised she was more enamoured of the idea of being in charge than the reality. Her mum had built up the place, had constructed her dreams around it, and she’d happily gone along with it.

  But poring over sales figures at midnight and haggling with diamond mines over undercutting prices wasn’t quite as glamorous as she’d been led to believe, and while walking through the showroom still gave her a buzz it wasn’t quite the same buzz being with Patrick over the weekend had given her.

  ‘I want you even more now, if that’s possible, but I won’t jerk you around.’ He eyeballed her. ‘I may be gone in three weeks and I don’t want you hurt.’

  Having him articulate the inevitable should have allayed her fears and reinforced her decision to view this as purely a fling. So why did his last words echo through her head like a mournful warning?

  A warning she should heed if she knew what was good for her. But that was just the point. Patrick was good for her. She’d felt more alive, more buzzed over the weekend than she had in years.

  She liked the feeling. Liked the uncharacteristic feeling of invincibility it gave her. For someone who’d been on the brink of not being able to get out of bed because her muscles wouldn’t co-operate, it was a heady high and a powerful aphrodisiac.

  She wanted more.

  Even if her potent medicine had an end-date stamped all over it.

  ‘We can squeeze a lot of fun into three weeks,’ she said, proud her voice didn’t give a hint of her inner turmoil.

  She wanted him.

  She didn’t want him to leave.

  She didn’t want to get too attached.

  It was a confusing jumble, making her want to shake him or kiss him. She hadn’t decided which yet.

  ‘How can a guy say no to that?’

  ‘You can’t.’

  She opened the car door, grabbed her bag and headed for Seaborns with Patrick not far behind.

  He’d finally fallen in with her plans but he might need a little convincing.

  And she knew just the way to do it.

  Patrick checked out the dazzling display of jewellery Ruby had created for Fashion Week, snagged a yellow diamond choker on his finger and held it out to Sapphire.

  ‘Model it for me.’

  ‘Sure,’ she said, reaching for it.

  He raised his arm, waved the necklace just out of reach. ‘Naked.’

  She elbowed him. ‘If you want to see me wear it—fine. But the clothes stay on.’ In a slick move involving an armpit tickle and a semi-jump, she recovered the choker. ‘For now.’

  ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ he said, meaning it. He’d hold her all night long if he had his way, but he had to leave. If he didn’t get out of here soon who knew what he’d divulge?

  He’d been close to blurting the truth—all of it—in the car.

  She’d been so open, not pulling any punches like most women he knew. Guileless and honest, stating what she wanted in clear terms. No room for misunderstandings. No unrealistic expectations.

  She knew he’d be leaving.

  And it didn’t matter.

  He should be high-fiving.

  A short-term sexual dalliance without complications.

  Instead it had made him think. Why didn’t she want more? They were good together. She’d admitted it. So why didn’t she want to consider continuing this relationship beyond a month?

  Not that he wanted to do long distance, or anything remotely like it, but to have her dismiss anything beyond a fling as a possibility kinda stung. Stupid guy pride.

  He’d thought he’d stuffed up, revealing all that stuff about his folks and their neglect. Emotional baggage usually had women wanting to delve and analyse and grow closer.

  Not Sapphire. She’d done the opposite—proposing they continue with the sex with an end-date in sight.

  He couldn’t fathom it.

  The gentlemanly thing to do would be not to take advantage of the situation. To say, Thanks, Saph, I’ve had a great time but sleeping together will ensure we grow closer over the next few weeks and neither one of us wants that… Ah, hell. Maybe the gentleman in him should shut up.

  This was why he didn’t do relationships. They confused the hell out of him.

  He’d deliberately pushed her away, terrified of the closeness they’d established over the weekend. He’d never told any woman about his folks—least of all a woman he had feelings for.

  Feelings?

  Uh-uh. No way. He needed to amend that to a woman he was at risk of developing feelings for. Yeah, much better.

  Jeez, he could be an idiot. All the amendments in the world wouldn’t change facts: he might have agreed to take advantage of Sapphire’s offer and continue the sex for as long as he was around, but pretending he didn’t feel more for her would be tough.

  He should have stuck to his guns and ended it in the car as he’d intended. It would have been easier than this floundering, out-of-control feeling that made him contemplate crazy things—long distance things—he had no intention of following up on.

  ‘Sure you don’t want to see the pieces with the gowns?’

  Her voice drifted out from the bedroom, soft and alluring, and it took every ounce of his limited willpower not to barge in there and say Screw the jewellery.

  ‘Designers’ meeting is first thing in the morning, so it would be great to get a sneak peek at them now,’ he said, managing to sound businesslike when all he could think about was her strutting back into the room wearing a diamond necklace and towering stilettos only. Totally making a mockery of his moral dilemma a few moments ago.

  He’d never been a gentleman. No point starting now.

  ‘Okay, you asked for it.’

  She strutted into the room wearing a sheer black lace teddy, suspenders, stockings and stilettos. Oh, and the necklace was somewhere in the vicinity of her neck, but he was too busy checking out the rest to notice.

  Yep, that inner gentleman was long gone now.

  ‘Are you trying to give me a heart attack?’ He clutched at his chest and pretended to stagger.

  ‘Nothing wrong with your heart if that workout over the weekend was any indication.’

  She struck a provocative pose, mischief lighting her eyes. ‘You’ve seen this piece. Shall I try on the next?’

  ‘No.’

  He strode towards her with one thing on his mind—and it wasn’t the carats of diamonds draping her neck.

  ‘But what about the designers’ meeting in the morning and needing to see them before then?’

  ‘Screw the meeting,’ he muttered, sweeping the small desk behind her clean and pinning her against it. ‘I have more important things on my mind.’

  She wriggled against his hard-on. ‘Like?’

  ‘You. Me. Naked.’

  ‘You’re fixated on the naked thing.’

  ‘I’m fixated on you.’

  The teddy looked hot, but it was a pain in the ass to undo so he did the only logical thing. Ripped it.

  ‘Caveman,’ she said, her smile saucy.

  ‘Wai
t ‘til you see my club.’

  She groaned at his pun—or it might have been due to his tongue working its way down to her breast.

  He sucked her nipple into his mouth, laved it while easing a finger inside her at the same time.

  She was so eager, so responsive, so hot.

  ‘Patrick…’

  She grabbed his head and practically dragged him up to meet her mouth, demanding and ravenous.

  He loved how she matched him, clamorous and unrelenting, striving for satisfaction.

  Her tongue taunted him as he unzipped and sheathed himself in record time.

  Her hands grabbed his butt and hauled him closer as he propped her on the desk.

  Her body arched and her head fell back as he thrust into her with one stroke.

  She gripped the edge of the desk. He gripped her hips.

  She watched him drive into her, eyes wide and dazed. He watched her and had never been so turned on in all his life.

  She came hard and fast, clenching around him, sighing his name. He came a second later, exploding into her with a force that made his head snap back.

  ‘Thanks for making my desk fantasy come true,’ she said, flushed and sated and utterly ravishing.

  ‘My pleasure,’ he said, when in fact he wanted to thank her for being his fantasy come true.

  His hopes to focus solely on work these next few weeks were royally screwed. Like him.

  For, come the end of this Fashion Week campaign, he knew he didn’t have a hope in hell of walking away from this.

  Sapphie ran a face-washer over her skin, aware they had a ton of work to do despite it being Sunday afternoon.

  However, the speedy scrub with the small towel didn’t invigorate her skin half as much as the sensual encounter with Patrick a few moments ago.

  It had been a test.

  Ironically, she wasn’t sure if she’d passed or failed.

  She might have just proved she could physically continue this relationship without any future, but her insistent voice of reason, the one nagging nonstop that she was being foolish, wouldn’t shut up.

  The smart thing to have done when he’d given her the brush off earlier in the car would have been to end this thing between them. They’d had a great time, worked the attraction out of their systems, and now could focus on work.

  Well, from his spiel maybe he could, but no way would she be able to work closely with him over the next three weeks and pretend she hadn’t seen him naked, hadn’t kissed him all over, hadn’t touched him, held him…

  She scrubbed her face again. It did little for her flaming cheeks.

  She could justify her decision to prolong their sexual relationship as the best kind of therapy for her body. She hadn’t felt this good in years…blah, blah, blah.

  While that might be true—and she revelled in feeling physically empowered for the first time in yonks—she knew continuing their relationship had more to do with the emotional connection they’d reluctantly established over the weekend than anything else.

  And she didn’t want an emotional connection. Had deliberately seduced him fifteen minutes ago because of it. Deter-mined to prove to herself she could handle the sex and little else.

  Instead all she’d proved was what she’d known all along: the sex was incredible. And maybe they could be too, given half a chance.

  She flung away the face-washer in disgust, poked her tongue out at her reflection, and shimmied into the nearest clothes handy: a faded rock band T-shirt—one of Ruby’s remnants—and a denim skirt.

  She didn’t have time for a relationship even if she wanted one, and it looked like Patrick felt the same way.

  She needed to prove she could be the best leader Seaborns had ever had, and by the sounds of it Patrick had a lot to prove to his folks even if he didn’t know it yet.

  When he’d opened up about his upbringing it had been pretty obvious where his bitterness sprang from. They’d neglected him as a kid so he’d probably go all out as an adult to show them what he was capable of. Gain the attention he’d never had.

  And she hoped he’d succeed. For while Mathilda had been a tough taskmaster, her mum had always been there for her and she couldn’t imagine it otherwise.

  Yeah, best for her to strive to be the best and for Patrick to chase his dreams. She should be thankful they’d both been perfectly clear in the car. No expectations. No regrets.

  So why did her heart give a little lurch as she exited the bathroom and caught sight of him waiting for her?

  As Sapphire walked Patrick out a flash of white gold caught his eye.

  He’d strolled through this showroom several times now, was almost immune to the precious gems and stunning creations cradled lovingly on midnight-blue velvet behind glass-enclosed cases highlighted by muted light.

  What captured his attention about this piece was where it was situated—tucked into a corner, almost invisible behind the more dazzling displays up front.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, holding onto Sapphire’s hand as he detoured towards the cabinet. ‘Why’s this piece hidden away?’

  ‘Poor seller.’ Sapphire shrugged. ‘Ruby loves creating modern stuff for fun—has a whole storeroom full of it—but no one wants to buy it.’

  As Patrick stared at the lightning bolt white gold and jade pendant edged in pinpoint diamonds a buzz of creative excitement zapped his gut.

  This was the kind of piece that would have accessorised his first show perfectly—the kind of edgy, contemporary vibe he loved. But the traditional fashionistas in Europe didn’t.

  Staring at Ruby’s exquisite piece of modern art, he felt a long-suppressed urge stir to life. He had grand plans to instigate when he returned to Paris shortly, but why not give the fashion world a little pre-emptive taste?

  ‘How adventurous are you?’

  A faint pink stained Sapphire’s cheeks. ‘Considering what we just did on the desk upstairs, you tell me.’

  He tugged her in for a quick kiss on the lips, determinedly ignoring the urge to deepen it.

  ‘I’m thinking of running a little adjunct to our fashion show. Something edgy. Funky. Contemporary.’ He pointed at the lightning bolt. ‘Showcasing modern fashion with pieces like that.’

  Sapphire gaped. ‘But the timeline…It’s impossible—’

  ‘You said Ruby has a storeroom full of modern pieces like this?’

  ‘Yeah, but co-ordinating the fashion on top of our current workload…how do you expect to pull this off?’

  He wanted to blurt the entire truth, wanted to trust her. But she’d doubted him at the start—doubted he could co-ordinate something as big as the old Hollywood glamour campaign—how would she feel if she knew the extent of his plans for his modern series?

  ‘I’ve had designers do some mock-ups for a contemporary show I’m planning in Paris. Wouldn’t take long for Ruby to have a look, match the jewellery.’

  She stared at him with an ego-boosting mix of awe and admiration. ‘You’re serious about this?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ He gently tapped the glass cabinet. ‘Wouldn’t it be great if Seaborns started selling more of this stuff too?’

  ‘Rubes would love you for ever,’ she said, peering closer at the pendant. And it would be so good to give something back to her. ‘Given a choice, she’d rather create contemporary stuff like this every day of the week. If she had a chance to show some of it at Fashion Week she’d freak out.’

  ‘Good. That’s settled.’

  He squeezed her hand and released it. ‘I’ll get the designs couriered over later and let you get to work co-ordinating the pieces.’

  ‘Okay.’ Sapphire stared at him as if she still couldn’t quite believe they were doing this. ‘Have to say I’m surprised.’

  ‘By?’

  ‘Fourde Fashion’s signature couture is all about timeless elegance.’ Her quick doubtful glance at Ruby’s lightning bolt spoke volumes. ‘Isn’t this confusing the brand a tad?’

/>   That was putting it mildly. It wouldn’t just confuse the Fourde brand, it would give his folks a coronary.

  Which was why he had no intention of launching this event under the Fourde Fashion label.

  He’d planned on doing it when he returned to Paris shortly. But this could be a perfect opportunity. How this short collection was received would be a fair indication if the Euro-pean market were ready for him or not.

  It hadn’t been a decade earlier, but a lot had changed in ten years. He’d changed in ten years, and no longer would he be quashed into thinking his ideas were wrong or unsuitable.

  His mistake back then had been trying to fit a bright, shiny new idea under the guise of a long-established vintage company.

  This time he’d be using his name all the way.

  The buck stopped with him.

  ‘I’m thinking of producing this independent of the Fourde label.’

  She paused, a tiny frown creasing her brow, and he half expected her to renege. Hitching Seaborns to the successful Fourde Fashion wasn’t a problem, but would she be up for the risk associated with an unknown brand?

  The astute businesswoman he knew her to be wouldn’t go for it. And the fact she’d asked the question signalled her doubts. Doubts in him.

  And he hated it. Hated that no matter how far they’d come, both personally and professionally, she didn’t deem him capable enough.

  ‘You have a problem with that?’

  His tone sounded way too harsh and her frown deepened.

  ‘Actually, I’m thinking it’s better this way. Break away from the established mould.’ She tapped her lower lip, deep in thought. ‘Fashion peeps will have expectations of anything that launches under the Fourde Fashion label, and you don’t want something new and innovative to be unfairly judged because it’s not the norm.’

  Some of his anger faded at her insight. She’d pretty much honed in on the number one reason he’d failed the first time around. And why he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  ‘Exactly. Modern and edgy isn’t what Fourde is renowned for.’

  She hadn’t lost the frown. ‘You’re up against your employer. In direct competition with your folks.’

  ‘They know I’m keen to branch out.’