Luca began slowly, explaining how he’d stopped the robbery that day. How she’d chased him out of the store and he didn’t know why. How she’d collapsed. How he’d found the ring later and had planned to return it. How he’d been lying low because of previous scandals he’d been involved in and that he was in danger of losing his family fortune. There was so much that it all became tangled together in his explanation.
And it all sounded terribly lame.
“So, your name is really Luca Legrand and you are heir to the Legrand champagne estate?”
“Yes. You’ve heard of me?”
She made a face. “The police were kind enough to explain a few things to me.” She walked straight up to him and poked him hard in the chest. “Here’s what they were unable to explain. Why you didn’t trust me with the truth.”
He’d never seen her angry. It was a sight to behold. “Jasmine. I couldn’t tell you the truth. I had to lie.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“You don’t understand. I was afraid of—”
“Of what? Huh?” She poked him harder. “What the hell were you afraid of?”
“This.” He waved to the room, the pictures, the police station at large. “I was afraid something like this might happen. Everything was at stake, my reputation, my inheritance. Everything. And, based on what has happened to me this year, I couldn’t trust anyone. Not even you.”
She shoved him. “And it made no difference to you that I told you everything about me? That I trusted you enough with my secrets. That I let you tie me up, for fuck’s sake? But you couldn’t even tell me your real name?”
“Jasmine...”
She took a step back and cocked her head to one side. “You know what, Luca,” she said. “You’re no better than Parker, using me so that you wouldn’t lose your trust fund.” She closed her eyes and lifted her chin. “Jesus,” she muttered to the ceiling.
“I never used you.”
“No?” Her laugh was an angry sound. “You’re saying you didn’t use my body for your own pleasure? You didn’t use my company to make your exile more palatable?” She shook her head.
Luca had had enough of being misunderstood. “You’re accusing me of using you?” he snarled in frustration. “What about you? You blackmailed me so I’d agree to take you with me to the villa. You showed up naked in my shower. It was you who asked me to do all of those things to your body.” He grabbed her shoulders. “I didn’t ask for any of that, Jasmine. It was all you.”
Jasmine’s mouth hung open in shock. She blinked. When she spoke, it was slowly and carefully. “Are you saying you were just doing me a favor? That you fucked me out of pity?”
Her lip quivered.
Luca’s anger dissolved the second he saw tears welling up in her eyes. “No. That’s not what I’m saying.”
She backed away, holding her hands up as if he was an evil entity and she needed to ward him off. “You’re an even bigger asshole than Parker.” She spun around and marched to the door, banging on it with her fist to get the officer’s attention.
“Jasmine, wait,” he called. “I’m sorry.”
She walked out the door and slammed it behind her, and that was when Luca realized something.
Something huge.
He didn’t want Jasmine to think that he was the fuckup everyone else in the world thought he was. He wanted to go back to the villa, to the times when she’d gazed at him like he was the most amazing man in the world.
And most of all, Luca realized that he didn’t care about losing everything. But he did care about losing Jasmine.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WHEN JASMINE FLEW back to America, she didn’t even stop in Chicago but flew directly to Denver to be with her parents. She didn’t plan on staying long, just until she could figure out the shit show that was her life. She also flew home to hide. Her sex-venture in France had become international news. Big in Europe first, because of the Legrand family fame, then across the Atlantic, when it became known an American was involved. Pictures of her being chased and carried off by Luca were all over social media, and since no one knew the full story, the public was left to interpret what was really happening in the condemning photos. Blog posts and new memes showed up daily, with sometimes corny but mostly offensive captions. If she thought her experience with Parker had been humiliating, she was sorely mistaken.
She now understood the true definition of humiliation.
Which made speaking to Parker somehow more bearable. She’d finally phoned him and asked him to ship her belongings, and she had to admit, he’d been accommodating. At least he wasn’t still suggesting they work it out between them. She’d offered him his ring back. He refused to take it, at first, but she’d insisted.
Jasmine had to make it on her own. No more relying on men. Especially if they were only capable of lying to her. The truth was, she’d finished being angry with Parker a long time ago. Luca had helped with that. Had made her feel things she’d never thought possible. Now she was only upset with herself. She was the one who’d fallen twice for men who’d deceived her.
She was afraid her infamy would hurt her job prospects, but she got a job at the first hair salon she applied to. Once word got out about who she was (Luca Legrand’s scandalous sex slave) she was booked solid for the next six months. So the upside of her disgrace was that her income was guaranteed and she would be able to move out of her parents’ house sooner rather than later.
Her second week on the job, one of her coworkers came running back to her chair while she was cutting an elderly lady’s hair.
“Jasmine! That guy who abducted you is on TV. Come see.”
She’d given up setting people straight about her supposed kidnapping. No one listened because fiction was way more interesting than fact.
When Jasmine rounded the corner where the overhead television was perched, one of the girls turned up the volume just as Luca took the microphone in what appeared to be a press conference.
“God, he’s hot. I wouldn’t say no if he kidnapped me.”
A rumble erupted in the pit of her stomach but she didn’t say anything because she wanted to hear what Luca had to say. He spoke in French and it was translated by a female. It started with something about the sale of a rare bottle of champagne that had sold to a collector for half a million euros. The man who’d purchased the wine stood up and nodded as he was presented with a bottle amid the flash of numerous cameras.
Once the clamor died down, there was silence. Luca paused, seeming to weigh his words. Then he spoke some more. The translator seemed caught off guard and spoke quickly to keep up. “The Legrand champagne estate has been run by Legrand men for many generations, and while I am the last Legrand...” Luca glanced at a man sitting beside him. “I will be resigning as CEO and announcing a successor as soon as possible.” There was a flurry of flashing cameras, and the crowd grew louder as reporters vied for further comments.
Jasmine frowned.
Luca was giving up his birthright? Why?
Then Luca raised his hand for silence and began speaking in English.
“And now, I have a message for Jasmine Sweet.”
O-oh, shit.
There were gasps from the other women in the salon who had gathered round.
“Quiet,” Jasmine said. “I can’t hear.”
Someone turned up the volume as Luca began to speak. “Jasmine, there are so many things I regret. I regret that you have been the subject of this malicious international media frenzy. I regret lying to you. I regret some of the things I said and some of the things I did.”
Flashes went off in his face and he turned away for a moment before continuing. “But there are many things I do not regret. I will never regret the time we spent together. I certainly do not regret the things we did together. Most of all, I do not regret falling in love with you.”<
br />
The salon went silent. All eyes turned to her.
* * *
The press conference was a nightmare, even worse than the last two weeks with relentless paparazzi hounding him. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done. Yet Luca felt a strange lightness after announcing that he would be stepping down as head of the family business.
It wasn’t planned. He was supposed to show up today and announce the new owner of the rare Legrand vintage. Then he’d been going to use the press conference to tell Jasmine he was sorry and that he loved her. He was sure she’d hear him this way. But as he’d stood onstage, thinking about that love, of all the things he wanted to give her, he knew she was his only priority now.
Even over his family legacy.
He refused to subject her to any more of Marcel’s vindictive machinations and there was only one way to accomplish that.
Quit. So he did...on television, before he could change his mind. Now Marcel would have no reason to make his life, and Jasmine’s by proxy, a living hell.
The thought of Marcel winning should have angered Luca, but he only felt relief.
Luca had just stepped into his office when Marcel appeared. “What the hell was that?” he asked, his voice angry and clipped.
Luca was too exhausted to fight with his half brother. “You have outplayed me at every turn. Take the position—it’s yours. And if you want to contest the will? Go ahead.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know what you’ve been up to. Arranging the scandals, the paparazzi at the worst possible moments. Having me followed. Taking those pictures. You won, Marcel. At least be gracious in victory.”
Marcel shook his head. “Luca, I don’t know what you think I did, but I would never try to ruin you like that.”
“Of course you would. You knew the board wanted you to lead the company and that the only way to do that was by contesting my inheritance. I’m just saving us all time and lawyers’ fees.”
“What are you talking about? Your father wanted you to run the company. It’s yours, Luca. He already made generous provisions for me.”
Luca stared hard at the man he’d blamed for his misfortune. What surprised him was how genuine Marcel appeared. Luca ran his fingers through his too-long hair. “But if you didn’t do it, who else would—” Just then, François walked into the room with Marcel’s fiancée, Lydia Fournier. Now Luca realized why he’d recognized her last name, she went by her mother’s.
And her mother was François’s ex-wife.
Lydia Fournier was François’s estranged daughter.
Though, by the looks of things, she was not so estranged now.
“It was you,” Luca said, striding up to François. “You’re the only one who knew where I was. Both times. All the time.” He blinked, dumbfounded. “It was you all along.”
There was a gasp from Lydia who released her father’s arm as she eyed the two men in shock.
Luca turned and paced, his fingers threaded through his hair. “I trusted you. I confided in you. And you betrayed me.”
“You’re mistaken.” François’s voice was eerily calm. “It is you who betrayed your family name.” He shrugged. “I just made sure the world saw you for who you truly are.”
“Oh, my God.” Luca stumbled backward as if François had pushed him. “Why would you do that?”
“Do you know what I have done for this company? The long hours. Being your father’s right-hand man for thirty years. I gave up my own family for yours. My wife left me, my only daughter wouldn’t talk to me for years.” He adjusted his glasses. “Then you came along. Luca Legrand, the prodigal son who never gave a damn about the company. You were going to destroy everything I worked for. Everything I sacrificed.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t let it happen. So, I destroyed you, instead.”
“Papa!” his daughter cried as she leaned against Marcel.
“I did it for you, Lydia.” Finally he looked at his daughter.
She shook her head and clutched Marcel, who stared at the lawyer in disbelief.
“François,” Luca said. “You’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me. You’re no longer in charge.”
“François,” Marcel said, stepping forward. “You’re fired.”
* * *
It had been three days since she’d seen Luca on TV and Jasmine couldn’t stop thinking about him. He loved her? How could that be?
Did she love him?
Yes, of course you do, stupid.
“I can’t believe he gave up all that money for you,” her friend Ashley said via FaceTime. “It’s so romantic. We’re talking billions of dollars here, people.”
“I doubt he gave it up for me,” Jasmine said, waving off her friend’s comment. “I’m sure he was forced to.”
“Well, he certainly wasn’t forced to profess his love for you in front of millions of viewers worldwide.” Ashley wagged her brows suggestively.
Jasmine shook her finger at the camera. “Don’t you have a baby to go birth?”
Ashley lowered the camera to show off her stomach. “Yep, overdue by three days.” She groaned. “I’m about ready to explode.” She raised the camera again. “Now, stop changing the subject. When are you heading back to France to snatch up that smoking-hot Neanderthal?” She tapped something on her phone and suddenly a meme popped up on Jasmine’s messenger app. It was the picture of Luca carrying her over his shoulder, but instead of clothes they were dressed in hides like cavemen, with the caption Why Luca Legrand’s dating profile says Old-Fashioned.
“Very funny,” Jasmine said. “I don’t think I want to be your friend anymore.”
“You have to. You’re going to be my baby’s godmother. Now answer the question.”
“I’m not going back to Paris. I’ve got a very good job here in Denver and I don’t need a man to take care of me.”
“Uh-huh. But he did take care of you, right? Like all of your nasty lady needs were well taken care of?”
“Okay, horny pregnant person, some of us have to go to work now. Bye!”
She ended the call before Ashley delved any deeper into how she really felt. Which was...confused.
During Jasmine’s break she went to the deli next door to buy a sub, and when she got back, the receptionist stopped her. “Package for you, Jazz.” The woman gave her a curious smile.
Jasmine took the package into the staff room and opened it while she ate her lunch. It was a rectangular wooden box about the size of a small toaster with a sliding lid. There were no markings on the box, nothing. Inside was something shiny and heavy. She pulled it out. It was a silver oil lamp, like the one she’d seen in the shop in Paris that fateful day. She dumped the box to see if there was a note. Nothing.
After finishing her sandwich, she washed up and went back to her station. A man with shoulder-length hair wearing a leather jacket sat in her chair with his back to her. She stopped in shock. She recognized that jacket.
Luca.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, a mixture of relief, rage, surprise and pleasure making her voice sound weird.
He turned in the chair. She’d forgotten how startlingly blue his eyes were. Well, she hadn’t forgotten, they were just so much more striking in real life than in her imagination.
“I need a haircut. Obviously.”
She took a couple of steps closer and pulled her scissors out of the jar of disinfectant. “And you trust me to be near you with a sharp object?”
“I absolutely trust you,” he said with a soberness that made her cheeks tingle.
“Okay. I’ll cut your hair. But that’s it.”
“That’s all I asked for.”
It took her twenty minutes to do the job, and she couldn’t decide if it was the longest or the shortest twenty minutes of her life. He smelled
so good and he was so close, and with every snip of her scissors, memories flickered in and out of her mind’s eye, making it difficult to keep her lines straight.
“There,” she said as she dusted hair off his shoulders. Oh, she’d forgotten how lovely and broad his shoulders were.
The bastard.
“You look a little less like a Neanderthal now.” The meme that Ashley sent her that morning flashed behind her lids and she suppressed a smile.
“Did you get my package?”
“The lamp? Yes. Are you here to grant me more wishes? Because I don’t want any more.”
He stood. Another thing she’d forgotten. How tall he was. He was imposing and...gorgeous.
It took her breath away.
“No. I’m not here to grant wishes. I’m here to ask you to grant me three wishes.”
“Why on earth would I—”
He stopped her with a quick kiss. It was nothing compared to the searing ones he’d bestowed often during her stay at the villa, but it still resulted in her knees turning to pudding.
“All I ask is that you listen. You may decide about granting them after.”
“Fine.” She waved for him to proceed, hoping to hide the fact that she was finding it hard to breathe.
“First, I wish for you to return to Paris.” He pulled a ticket from his pocket. “There is so much you missed, so much I want to show you. So much I think you would love.”
She took the proffered ticket with exaggerated reluctance and placed it on the counter of her workstation.
“Second, I wish for forgiveness. I said and did many things I regret. I would like a chance to make it up to you.”
She opened her mouth but he held up his hand before she could speak. “Let me finish.” His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath and released it. “I wish for you to tell me if my love for you is reciprocated or not.”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “Don’t answer now. Take your time.” He handed her a small envelope. “Here are instructions if you should choose to use the ticket. The flight leaves in four days.”
Pleasure Games Page 16