CHAPTER 3
Gloria
Morning couldn’t have come fast enough. Showered and dressed, I was ready to go back to Los Angeles. I needed to get back to work and away from this man who had worn me down both emotionally and physically. Taking a break from packing, I glanced at him, still asleep in bed. He looked so peaceful—a sharp contrast to the tense, conflicted me. And oh so beautiful. Sleeping on his back, with the covers draped low on his hips, he offered me a bird’s-eye view of his toned pecs and arms, washboard abs, and that magnificent V that led to the tent beneath the sheets that told me he had a hard on. And oh, that gorgeous chiseled face with its morning shadow and kissable dimpled chin. My heart fluttered; my body pulsed. I couldn’t help it. I forced myself to look away.
Folding up the lingerie that he’d rummaged through and made a mess of yesterday, I silently cursed the soreness between my inner thighs. Not because I found the pain uncomfortable but because I found the memory associated with it unbearable. He had fucked me silly on the Grande Roue, sending me orbiting, and then had put my emotions into a tailspin.
Jaime Fucking Zander had gotten under my skin and then into my bloodstream. And somehow, he’d gotten into my heart. Both my beloved late mentor, Madame Paulette, and good friend, Sandrine, were right. I’d fallen in love with him. Except this complicated, commitment-phobic man, whose name meant “I love” in French, was incapable of loving. I was just one of his many conquests. I glanced down at the ring on my middle finger. Caught in the ray of sunshine that beamed through the French doors of our charming hotel room, its sparkle was blinding. Once again, my thumb involuntarily skimmed over the two magnificent kissing diamond hearts. Toi et moi. He probably gave this kind of ring to all his women. I just wanted to go back to being moi. Gloria Long, the cool, confident CEO of Gloria’s Secret, the world’s leading retailer of lingerie. The powerhouse of a woman in control of her life. Yes, heading up a billion dollar, global empire came with its share of challenges and headaches, but it didn’t come with lust and heartbreak. My eyes snapped back to Jaime and I silently cursed him. He had made my emotions spin out of control. I couldn’t focus on anything but him. Even light packing was an effort.
My unrest was compounded by my fatigue. I was eager for my coffee to arrive. While he had slept like a baby, I’d tossed and turned all night. Even after moving to the spare bed, I didn’t sleep a wink. There was only one good thing about insomnia—you can’t have nightmares—and at least, my monster, Boris Borofsky, stayed out of my brainwaves. I kept replaying the events of the past week in my head. My first encounter with Jaime in the elevator of The Walden in New York. Our swim in the hotel pool and our sensual shower in the men’s locker room. Dinner in his room where he feasted on me. His pitch for my account after which he blindfolded me and fucked me senseless on his conference room table. Then, after I caught him heatedly kissing my assistant, Vivien Holden, he followed me to Paris to tell me the truth. That Vivien was his manipulative stepsister and her father, Victor, Gloria’s Secret Chairman of the Board, his abusive stepfather. He had rescued me from Victor’s drunken, sexual assault, and from that moment on, we were inseparable. Two lovers who couldn’t get enough of each other.
Jaime Zander had consumed me. Awoken places and feelings deep inside me I never knew I had. The truth: I couldn’t get enough of him. But as I folded the red chiffon dress I’d worn last night, I knew in the end I was only going to get hurt. Once a player, always a player. Having won our account with his brilliant BDSM-inspired pitch—Gloria’s Secret. Let yourself be carried away—I now dreaded having to work with him. How should I proceed? There was only one answer: I had to go back—and keep it pure business. One of Madame Paulette’s favorite songs had been Edith Piaf’s “Je ne Regrette Rien.” The intoxicating scent of him was still on my dress and caressed my senses. Tears stung my eyes. I suddenly regretted everything. Everything that had to do with Jaime Zander.
“Hey, Angel, what are you doing?” a raspy voice from behind me called out. My skin prickled. He was up.
Without turning to look at him, I said, “Packing. I’m going back to LA, and you’re going back to New York.”
I heard him climb out of bed. “Where’d you go last night?” he asked with a sleepy yawn. “I reached for you, but you weren’t there.”
“I went to sleep in the other bed. I had insomnia.”
“Did I keep you up?” His voice was getting closer.
“Yes.” That was a fact. I didn’t elaborate.
As I zipped up my overnight case, two strong bare arms slipped under mine and circled my breasts. He cupped the full mounds in his palms and massaged them. My tender nipples peaked beneath his touch. How quickly he could make me ache. Damn him! I whirled around and faced him. The effect his bedroom eyes and bedhead hair had on me was unraveling me. Collect yourself, Gloria. Don’t let him do this to you.
“We need to have a serious conversation,” I spluttered, thankful he was wearing pajama bottoms.
“Seriously?”
His deliberate or not play on words got under my skin.
“Yes.” I hissed the word.
He ran his long fingers through my still loose hair. He was doing everything that got me all riled up. “About what?”
I jerked away. “About toi et moi.”
He let out that deep, sexy chortle that always undid me. “Your French accent is perfect, Gloria. Just like you.”
I tried hard not to react. Just tell him what’s on your mind. Keep your heart out of it.
I sucked in a lungful of air. “I think we need to keep our relationship strictly business. There’s too much riding on the line.”
He cocked a brow. “What do you mean by that?”
What I mean is that you’re taking me down a collision course. There’s only disaster at the finish line. I can’t afford to be a car wreck.
What I said: “I’m under a lot of pressure to take Gloria’s Secret to the next level. With all the competition springing up, Wall Street is scrutinizing us. There are a lot of people out there who want to see me fail…including Victor.”
His jaw tensed at the mention of his stepfather’s name. “So…”
I jumped right in. “I think you should stop fucking me, and we’ll pretend that none of this happened.”
Jaime knitted his eyebrows as if in deep thought. He spoke sooner than I thought he would. “You’re the client, Gloria. And the client’s needs always come first. Except I think your needs are different than what you think.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked, echoing his earlier words.
“I. Think. You. Need. Me.”
A tug of my hair accompanied each punctuated word. The way he looked straight into my eyes made my heart patter. I was losing my cool. Several long seconds passed before I responded.
“No, Mr. Zander, what I need is a successful ad campaign.” And my sanity back. “And by the way, I don’t want to be in it in any shape or form.”
Jaime shrugged. “A big mistake, in my humble opinion, Ms. Long. You should learn to trust me. I thought you were doing a great job, but obviously you’ve regressed for some reason.”
Inside me, unexpected sadness mixed with my hormones. It took all I had to keep it together.
“And I think you should take your ring back.” I started to twist it off my finger, but because my period was coming, my fingers were swollen from water retention. I couldn’t get it past my knuckle. “Damn it,” I cursed silently as he tipped my head up by my chin. My pained eyes met his darkened pools of blue as I continued futilely to tug at the ring.
“Listen, Gloria, I don’t want the ring back. It’s not returnable.” He squeezed my right hand, trapping my fidgeting fingers and the ring in his fist.
“You can sell it on eBay or pawn it.” I ground out the words between clenched teeth.
His thickly lashed eyelids lowered. He looked wounded. “No, Gloria, I have no time or interest in doing that. And it’ll never fetch the price I paid.”
I suddenly felt bad. He had, beyond doubt, paid an exorbitant amount of money for it. It was a rare antique…unique and special. Two magnificent entwined diamond hearts. Priceless.
“Gloria, I want you to have it.” I stood frozen as he softened his grip around my hand and raised it to his lips. He placed a warm, reverent kiss on the ring, grazing my flesh, and then gazed into my eyes.
“Just accept it as a souvenir from Paris. And the kiss too.”
My heart was beating so loudly I was sure he could hear it. To my relief, there was a loud knock at the door, saving me from responding. “That must be the coffee. I’ll go get it.”
Freeing myself, I scurried to the door and opened it. Yes, coffee. With a cheerful bonjour, the waiter entered our chamber and set a silver tray with the coffee onto a small round table. After taking care of him, I busied myself pouring two cups of the steamy dark liquid—one for me and reluctantly, the other for Jaime. The smell of the rich caffeine wafted in the air. I generously poured steamed milk into both cups of the aromatic brew, remembering he liked his coffee café au lait style like me. As the warm, frothy liquid filled his cup, I reflected on how much I already knew about this man in less than a week’s time.
He strode toward me. “Great. Coffee for toi et moi.”
Toi et moi. The words echoed in my head. There was no toi et moi. Yet, I was aching, throbbing. Unwanted tears were verging. I needed to get away from him. “I’ll be right back. I need to use the bathroom.”
“I’ll be waiting for you.” He smiled warmly and took a sip of the steaming brew.
Inside the bathroom, I sat on the toilet longer than I needed. I finally grabbed a thick wad of toilet paper. I wiped my still throbbing folds and took a look, hoping not to see the first sign of my period. The last thing I needed was to fly home with soaked tampons and cramps. I breathed a soft sigh of relief when I saw no trace of blood. But my heart grew heavy. Remains of Jaime’s cum glistened before me. The memories of fucking him last night on the Grande Roue flooded my head. Oh my God! That explosive, mind-blowing orgasm. As I relived it, my core morphed into the Eiffel Tower, crackling with white lights. How could I live without this man inside me? I was second-guessing my decision to end our intimacy—would it end up being the worst business decision of my life? A tear of despair trickled down my face.
The sound of a phone ringing brought me back to the moment. It was either Jaime’s cell or mine; we had identical iPhones. When it stopped on the third ring, I knew it was his. I heard him say hello, and then the flush of the toilet and the subsequent running of water to wash my hands blocked out the sound of his voice.
When I stepped back into the bedroom, Jaime was still on the phone. He was pacing and the expression on his face was intense. Avoiding eye contact, he lowered his voice and said, “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you in LA, babe.”
As he ended the call, my heart skipped a beat. “Who were you talking to?”
“Another client.” His voice wavered.
Rage and jealousy crescendoed inside me. “Oh, so do you call all your female clients ‘angel’ or ‘babe’?”
He twitched a nervous smile. “Just the ones I find attractive.”
A blast of anger shot through me. I wanted to grab his phone and smack him with it. My second-guess thoughts evaporated like water. I had made the right decision. He was a rogue. A player. Except he wasn’t going to play with me. No fucking way.
“Mr. Zander, from now on, please only call me Ms. Long.”
“Is that what I should shout out when you make me come?”
I screwed up my face. Smartass!
He smirked at me.
Let him smirk. I braided my hair. I was back to being in control.