Page 52 of That Prince is Mine
He got to his feet and held out his hand to Emma. When she stood and placed her hand in his, he pulled her to his side and looked at Jeremy.
“Thank you for dinner. I’ll see Emma home.” His tone brooked no argument, but Jeremy didn’t seem like a person who took note of such things. Even so, the other man folded his arms across his chest and gave Michel a curt nod without further argument. The concerned glance he shot Emma eased much of the wariness Michel felt toward him. “It was nice meeting you.”
“Same here.” After a pause, Jeremy added, “Maybe next time, I’ll let you grill me for more intel.”
“I wasn’t trying to grill…” Michel trailed off as he noticed Jeremy’s grin. “You know what? I might take you up on that.”
“That intel better have nothing to do with me,” Emma warned, tugging on her hand. He tightened his grip and tucked her close to him. “Besides, I wouldn’t trust that guy if I were you.”
“What? Nonsense.” Jeremy walked out into the street with them past the crowd of people waiting for an open table. “I’m the most trustworthy man you’ll ever meet.”
“Only an untrustworthy man would say something like that.” Emma grinned until her dimple winked. “Good night, oppa. Thanks for dinner.”
Jeremy waved over his shoulder as he sauntered to his car. Michel led Emma in the opposite direction, where they had parked his car.
“Do you want to come over for a drink?” He wasn’t ready to say good night to her. The desire that flared between them was banked to quiet embers, but it still burned in his blood.
But he sobered at the stern warning in his head. You need to tell her before this goes any further. His hand tightened unconsciously around hers. He couldn’t wait until she fell in love with him—if she ever did. Besides, how true would that love be if she fell for him, knowing only a part of him? And how true could he claim his own affections to be if he kept his identity a secret any longer? It didn’t matter how much he longed to remain just Michel Chevalier. He needed to stop being selfish. She deserved to know.
“Just for a drink?” Emma looked up at him.
God, he hoped for so much more, but he made himself say, “Maybe some dessert?”
“I can’t say no to dessert.” That sultry smile curled her lips again.
“Good,” he said thickly.
She leaned close and whispered in his ear, “We can do other stuff after dessert.”
He tripped over his own foot. If it wasn’t for her hold on his hand, he might have fallen flat on his face. Once he regained his balance, he made a run for his car, tugging a laughing Emma along his side.
Sophie caught up with them. “What’s the hurry?”
Looking down at Emma, Michel answered, “I might die if I don’t get some dessert as soon as humanly possible.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Emma wanted Michel. She thought a few dates would be enough for her to get him out of her system—enough to convince her that their attraction was fleeting. She thought with no common background, she wouldn’t enjoy his company after the first spark of interest faded—that every new difference she discovered between them would dull his charm.
Well, she thought wrong. Every day she spent with him, experiencing his first times together, made her crave more, and her desire for him only grew stronger.
Maybe she wouldn’t be able to get him out of her system until she gave in to their attraction. Sharing that first time with him might be the only way she could move on. She had never felt this way about another man. And there was no guarantee that she would ever feel this way again. What were the chances she would have this kind of white-hot chemistry with her perfect-on-paper husband? An arranged match was not based on passion after all.
There was a certain grace to going with the flow. She didn’t want to be left to wonder what it would be like—to be left with regrets. She wanted to surrender to the desire and see where it led. Emma prided herself in leading her life with purpose and effort—her every choice well thought out and deliberate—but in this instance, she wanted to stop thinking and weighing. She wanted the mess, imperfection, and freedom of letting go. Just this once.
With her mind made up, she deserved a medal for not jumping Michel in the back seat of the car. She liked Sophie too much to force her to sit through that. But Emma was relieved when her new friend bid them good night in the foyer and headed for her suite.
“Shall we?” Michel’s voice was low and intimate as he held open the door for her.
Even though it wasn’t her first visit, the elegance and opulence of the presidential suite awed her anew. The expansive view of the city lights drew her to the floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the living room. As she stared into the night, she ran her hand down the thick ivory curtain pulled to one side, which was as heavy and soft as she’d imagined.
Michel came to stand behind her—not so close that he crowded her but close enough for her to feel the heat coming off his body. She reached her hand behind her until he clasped it, and she tugged him closer to her. Then she leaned the rest of the way so the back of her body was pressed against the front of him and dropped her head against his shoulder. His free hand curved around her waist, his touch firm enough to feel possessive, and her breathing grew shallow.
“Do you ever get tired of this view?” she asked to distract herself from the nerves quaking in her stomach.
“Not tired”—his eyes met hers through their reflection in the window—“but it pales in comparison to the view I’m beholding now.”
She didn’t even try to fight the blush rushing to her cheeks. Too shy to speak, she pulled his arms tighter around her and laid her hands on top of his. He lowered his head—his jaw and then cheek brushing against her temple—until his lips traced the curve of her ear.
