Claimed by the Millionaire: The Wealthy Frenchman's Proposition

He opened his eyes and saw that hers were closed and she was absorbed totally in the moment. He realized things were going too far for a public dance floor. Sheri’s burgeoning passion was for him, and him alone.

Damn, he’d never felt this possessive about a woman before.

He lifted his mouth from hers, tucked her head into the curve of his neck and shoulder. Rubbed his hands down her back until he thought he could walk without each step being painful.

The crowd at the reception had thinned. The photographer from the Sabina Group was still there, but otherwise the event was paparazzi free. The guards that Christos had hired had provided an environment where his bride and his guests could relax and not have to worry about being pursued.

“Sheri?”

“Yes, Tristan?”

He couldn’t ask her to stay with him tonight, he thought. This was his assistant. The woman he counted on to be cheeky and funny and to keep his New York office running efficiently. Yet he wanted her, and he wasn’t in the habit of denying himself anything he wanted.

“Did you like that?”

“Kissing you?”

“Mmm, hmm.”

“Oh, yes. Very much. And dancing with you,” she said, her eyes sparkling as she shimmied against him in time to the slow jazz number playing. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Kissing you or dancing with you?” he asked, just to tease her.

“Both.”

“Yes.”

She arched both eyebrows at him. “Really? I know you’re used to more sophisticated women.”

“How do you know that?” he asked. He never discussed his private life at the office.

“I searched you on Google. I read the Post. And Lucille sends me the French tabloids with pictures of you.”

“Why?” he asked, realizing that Sheri was a lot more talkative when she drank. Normally, she’d try to play off her interest in him, but not tonight.

“You’re my obsession,” she said, her tone airy and breathless.

“Obsession?” he asked.

She flushed and pushed out of his arms. Her hands came up to cover her face. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe I said that.”

Tristan cupped her elbow and led her from the dance floor. Sheri grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Taking a delicate sip, she drew to a stop.

“Will you please forget I said that?”

Not in a million years, he thought. She was totally unique in a world of women who fawned over him. There was a freshness to her. An innocence that he’d never experienced. Not even with Cecile, who’d been ten years his senior.

“Tristan? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And?”

“No, Sheri, I will not forget you said that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I like being your obsession. What have you obsessed about doing with me?”

She shook her head and he wondered if she’d back down now. Instead she took a sip of her champagne and smiled up at him. “I’m not sure you’re ready to know about that.”

“When do you think I will be?”

She shrugged. Her delicate shoulders moved underneath the pretty silk straps of the bridesmaid’s dress. “I’m not sure you’ll ever be ready.”

“Why not?”

“Because of what I said earlier.”

“And that was?”

“You’re not used to a woman like me.”

“Ma petite, that I may not be, but I’m definitely ready for a woman like you.”

Three (#ulink_3f41867c-5ebb-5b64-abbc-4774cf98e2a7)

Sheri kept her hand in Tristan’s as they walked toward the front of the mansion, where the valet was stationed, to get his car. Suddenly she hesitated, realizing that this was going to change her life. She forced herself to look around and acknowledge that, if she kept walking, her life would change.

“Sheri?”

She bit her lower lip, wondering if she was going to pass up the chance of a lifetime. And the answer was…she had no idea. She was torn between what she wanted—the man she’d wanted for so long—and self-preservation.

“Yes?”

“Would you like to stay here?”

No, she thought. But now she couldn’t say that she was swept away by the moment. He was putting the onus on her, which was exactly where it should be. Clearly, he was leaving…and the thought of watching another man walk away was too much for her. The decision was made that easily.

She had no idea what the future would hold, but on this night she was going to be with Tristan. And it could only be this night, because she was flying back to the States in the morning.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“My villa.”

“You have a villa on Mykonos?”

“Yes. I own property all over the world,” he said.