To Charm A Billionaire (Men of Monaco Book 1) (4 page)

"Yes, I do remember a time or two when you put a lot of muscle into it. Especially when you were on top," he retorted as he walked through while she held the door.

Her gasp drew his chuckle.

"Come on, we've got to show off your itty-bitty black dress." He offered the crook of his arm. The tension that had his back and shoulders captive unwound and left him free to relax. He missed exchanging bantering with Anna.

"There will be a test at the end," she said with an added poke in the ribs.

Damien gently placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her through the crowd. "And if I ace it?" he whispered, as several familiar faces greeted them.

"I'll wait until that momentous occasion actually happens."

Before he could respond, she stepped out of reach of his hand and got swallowed up in a group of admirers. With the sudden throng of people wanting to shake her hand or take a photo with her and those who were hoping to rub shoulders with him, their progress through the building slowed to meandering speed.

Surrounded by such an enthusiastic throng, he felt a bit lost. He couldn't be the only one who hadn't the pleasure of a night at the opera. His searching gaze hovered over most of the heads, looking for only one person. With the momentum of the crowd, Anna had made it to the doors that led the way to the boxes. He waved at her, but she disappeared from view before he caught her attention.

"Damien, I can't believe you're here."

A voice from his not so long ago past jabbed at him as its owner sashayed her way to where he stood frozen to the spot. She gripped his arms, as if to hold him in place, and kissed his cheeks. He could feel the moist residue of her lipstick marking him on either side of his face.

"Katarina Klava. Didn't expect to see you." And it had taken quite the effort to dislodge her from his life.

"I bet." Her smile with unnaturally white teeth looked predatory. "You told me that you'd look me up when you were passing through Belgium."

"I didn't lie." Damien kept his face deliberately neutral. "I haven't passed through Belgium."

"And that's why I've been following you. But you are like a slippery eel and a bit dangerous if you get too close. Right?" She laughed, a feat that she managed through her pearly whites clamped together.

"I'm here right now ... with a friend. So please excuse me." He tried to move away, but she held on to his hand. And she didn't wear gloves.

"Now, I think you lie." She looked around exaggeratedly. "Finders keepers."

Before she could slide her arm through Damien's, he felt someone else at his side.

"Anna." He almost sagged with relief.

"Come on, Mr. Laurent. Obviously, I have to perform a citizen's arrest to get you to the box."

"Will there be handcuffs?" He smiled and watched the warm blush suffused her cheeks.

"Next time, maybe." She leaned forward slightly toward Katarina who looked beyond miffed. "We've got to head to the box. Dearie, I hope you find someone else to latch on to for the evening."

Katarina spun with her ponytail whipping a farewell salute as she marched away.

"Are you going to throw me over your shoulder and take me to your cave?" Damien teased.

"Is that an invitation?" she countered.

Her pointed gaze stayed on his face—maybe searching, reading, taking in information—as if she stood at the window to his soul. Goosebumps prickled his skin. He had to shut down his system to avoid her invasion.

Damien sobered. "No invitation. Not at all. Let's go before the curtains go up."

She lowered her gaze. Disappointment plain to see on her face.

Since she was the enemy, why didn't she feel like the enemy?

N
o
one else occupied the box. Damien was grateful for the small measure of privacy. He might need it since he couldn't seem to say the right words to Anna. Besides, sitting still for over two hours surely would kill him, despite the cushioned velvet-covered seats.

Damien pulled at his collar. His body wasn't meant to be encased in formal attire. He blamed the ornate architecture and opulent gold that covered almost every inch of the interior. He adjusted his jacket and tried not to squirm like a little child.

Right now he was going through the motions to be here. Even Anna's company didn't shake off his reluctance. Whether as a no-show to his father's party or to the opera, he would have rather spent the night partying at Jimmy'z Place du Casino with women who didn't want a damn thing from him, but a good time.

"Here's the playbill." Anna handed him the booklet with a snap.

"
Merci
." Damien dared not refuse the offering.

Maybe he should make the first move to start the thaw. Two hours in frosty conditions held no appeal. He opened the brochure with exaggerated interest and determinedly skimmed each page.

Occasionally he looked up and shared a tidbit that caught his attention. When he turned the page, he fell silent to read the full page write-up. Immediately he was drawn into the premise.

The opera promised a big romance between a down-in-his-luck barber and the beautiful daughter of the town's mayor. But desperation to claim his true love caused the barber to make the wrong alliances.

Falling in love, even in fiction, had a way of biting someone in the ass.

Damien leaned in to chat about what he'd read. Just then, the orchestra started the production with soft romantic notes that increasingly swelled in volume and fullness as the empty market scene was suddenly filled with costumed vendors and buyers bringing to life the 17th-century Italian village.

The elaborate stage and colorful costumes drew in and held on to Damien's attention. He looked forward to jumping in and soaking up everything from the production. For the next two hours, the actors would belt out their joy and pain for life and love.

"Ever wondered that there are too many rules about how to love. Or who to love," Damien muttered in defense of the love-struck barber.

"Without rules, people would act foolishly. Selfishly."

"Nothing wrong with being selfish sometimes. It's self-love."

As the production played out on stage, Damien did feel bad for the barber and his place in society that kept him at the lower half of the social ladder. The man's heart didn't acknowledge boundaries.

Meanwhile Anna never responded to his declaration. Not with words, anyway. Her dismissive snort had said enough.

The play continued onto the intermission without further interjections from him. It was no fun having a conversation with himself. When the lights flooded the theater for the thirty-minute break, Damien wanted to cheer. But he wanted to act like a gentleman and didn't move, although his legs ached for a chance to stretch. He waited for Anna to make the first move unsure if the ground between them was safe for an approach.

"Any refreshments?" he asked, no longer able to sit still.

The dense hum of conversational buzz filled the space as patrons aimed for the restrooms or the concessions area.

"No thank you. But I will go chat with the Sables. They're seated over there." Anna gestured toward box seats that faced center stage.

Damien took his cue to leave, accepting that there wouldn't be conversation during the intermission. He shrugged off the tingling edge of disappointment. It was just his luck that the play mirrored a bit of the dynamics that stood between him and Anna. He had money, but no class. She had money. And she had class.

The difference between the story and reality was that he didn't have someone to mix a potion to take out the perfect match—Javier Bordeaux. He couldn't say that he'd abdicated his position since he was always the guy from the wrong side of the tracks: a trust fund child and one generation from clipping coupons. Although his mother still collected coupons and haggled over a price.

As he wandered through the lobby to find the concession stand with the shortest line, he saw a few early departures heading for the outdoors. Why would anyone leave a show midway? The production and show were top notch.

A few more patrons left. Damien looked around to guess who would be the next departure. But with the idea of escape teasing him as an option, he left the concessions area and slowly walked toward the nearest door. Just before he reached for the door handle, he looked over his shoulder. After one last look up at the balcony where he'd sat with Anna, he exited into the balmy evening.

He took a deep breath. It felt good to be outdoors.

Not all good, though. Guilt had a knack for readily popping in to fill him with reservation that he couldn't walk out on Anna.

But he hadn't thought about doing so until he saw the romantic couples huddled together laughing and talking, with an occasional peck on the lips as they headed to parts unknown. More than a touch of envy of these couples on dates motivated his early fugitive run.

Anna had no idea what she'd opened in his heart with this invitation to spend a few hours with her. The problem loomed that he wanted much more than a few hours in her company. If he left now, he'd deprive himself of what little time he would have had with her.

Damien heaved a sigh and returned to the building. Skipping any refreshment, he headed back to the box. It was empty. He looked over to where the Sables were and saw Anna engaged in a lighthearted conversation—all smiles and animated hand gestures.

Those easy, silly moments were no longer a thing between them. Once upon a time, he'd made her laugh. His teeth clenched because he'd also made her cry.

"Hi, you're back." Anna cheery voice was a welcomed interruption to dispel the creep of his dreary thoughts.

"I didn't run."

"I'm impressed. I was arranging a ride with the Sables ... just in case." Her mouth quirked into a teasing grin.

"Well, nope, they can't have you. I'll be the one to take you to your hotel."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that." She flashed a smile that melted him into a puddle.

Once the dimming lights signaled the resumption of the play, Damien was ready for the culmination of events on the stage. He'd rather focus on the next hour than deal with the gut-tingling warmth because he noticed every movement, every sound, anything that Anna did.

Somewhere during the conviction of the barber and his fiery end for doing business with a witch, Damien's fingers had intertwined with Anna's.

Not until the curtains lowered did he reluctantly release her hand to clap and shout his encore, along with the crowd. He'd survived the opera. Sharing in the rousing celebration with Anna at his side cast him adrift on this strange ride.

A rare deep-down current of happiness zigzagged its path through his entire body. After one hell of a tumultuous day, he didn't want this—whatever this was—to end.

"So what did you think?" Anna asked as they joined the throng of people slowly exiting the building.

"I enjoyed it."

"You sound surprised." She linked her arm through his.

"Maybe I am, but I did keep an open mind throughout the entire thing."

Their walk was slow and halting as all the exits converged into a big pool at either side of the grand rococo marble staircases. Any real conversation was on hold until they got back into his car and cruised their way down the avenue.

"So your place or mine? I'm famished and we really haven't had a chance to fill in a few important gaps." Damien stared ahead to stop from second guessing how she'd react. Tonight was already full of risks. Why stop now?

"I wouldn't want to stand in your way of filling your appetite with food ... or Katarina," she responded, but her words trailed off as if waiting for him to make any important announcements.

"My place, then." He adjusted the Bluetooth to his ear and called his housekeeper with instructions for his arrival. With only a casual glance at his side mirror before switching lanes, he added, "Now I can take care of filling my appetite, one way and then another."

"That's the Damien I know."

"Was there another?"

"You had me a bit worried. The silent, brooding ... cold, new version threw me off."

Her diagnosis hung and settled over him.

"Maybe I have cause to be."

"Maybe." She took a deep breath. "And that's why I'm here."

"You're the cure?"

"A cure is a second chance reminder to live life."

Damien applied brakes in the car for the traffic light, but also for this conversation. "Doesn't mean it's a do-over. You can't repeat the past."

"No, we can't, can we? Sad in so many ways." She looked out the window. The intermittent street lights danced with her reflection.

"Why would you want to? It's why we're done." Damien's bitterness punctuated the finality. "You moved on."

"And I kept moving on. Looking for that elusive element that at one time brought pure joy to my heart."

Damien couldn't take the platform and make the same claim. He hadn't moved on. The ditch he'd dug around his personal space didn't allow for anyone to cross over or reach out to bond with him. Not that his attitude invited anyone, but the determined ones who were set on remolding him to what they wanted. But that's what Anna said she couldn't master with him.

Back on his territory, he pulled into the garage. By the time he exited the car, Anna was already out and joining him to walk into the house.

"Just so you know no one could blow my mind with making me orgasm like you," she tossed out.

Damien tripped up the last step into the laundry room. His big toe throbbed. "Okay, so what
has
changed about you is your frequency to remove the filter from your thoughts."

"Mr. Laurent, your dinner is on the sideboard in the dining room. Would you be needing anything else?" His housekeeper greeted them with a cheery neutral smile.

There was no way that she didn't hear Anna's high-pitched, out-of-breath declaration. But admittedly, his track record at the house wasn't squeaky clean with his escapades.

"Thank you. We'll be fine," he said, trying his best not to look like an embarrassed adolescent.

Anna giggled. "I think I need a glass of wine."

Damien ushered her into the dining room and headed over to the convenient mini-bar that was part of the decor in almost every room.

"In keeping with my full disclosure, I had a few lovers." Anna took the wine and swallowed a big gulp. Her tongue swiped away the wetness from her lips.

Damien sipped from his glass.
That damn tongue of hers
. His crotch tightened.

"I like sex. We both know you opened the floodgates," She continued with her destruction of his willpower.

"You could have come back if you felt starved."

"I could have." She bit her lip.

Damien clenched his teeth to stop from sucking on said lip. "But then you had Javier and others to play with."

"Followed in your footsteps."

"I never slept around with you," he said each word slowly. He might have been a lot of things, but he was never a cheater. Not even tempted.

"Neither did I. But you had a certain sensibility about flirting and being emotionally disengaged. So in a weird sort of way, you devoured a woman with your charm and conversation. By the time you were done with her, she believed that she'd been seduced by her mysterious lover."

"And now ... what? Suddenly you no longer believe this craziness about me?"

She shook her head. "I still believe in your super powers." She provided the air quotes. "But with this change in you, I'd say now you're probably a bit more withdrawn about it. You probably take, but don't give back anything."

"From caveman to a vampiric lover. You're bursting with compliments. And yet, you're here in my house."

"Because I've realized that I'm living life all wrong. You've been right all along. I want in."

"What?"

"I want to live ... and fuck ... like there's no tomorrow. Teach me." Her green eyes with amber flecks swallowed him in its power.

"
Merde
!" Damien gulped his wine and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His thoughts spun like a dice bouncing along the wheel on a roulette table. Finally, one thought settled and stayed put. "
Merde
," he reiterated. "Let's go fuck."