His Mistress with Two Secrets(22)

She would counsel any girlfriend or sister to never wait on a man or give him so much power over her personal happiness, but here she sat, looking into her coffee because she didn’t want Henri to see that he already held her on the end of a leash and all he had to do was tug for her to come to heel.

That’s where her shame was coming from. Her eyes stung and she made herself blink to stem the tears of humility at being his sexual pet.

“What do I assume by your lack of response, Cinnia? That you would be agreeable to that arrangement?”

“I’m not going to hold a reservation for you,” she lied, setting her cup into its saucer with a hard clink and a little slosh of coffee over the rim.

“Exactly what I thought you’d say.” He braced his elbows on the table, hands loosely linked above his plate. “Much of your appeal for me is that you expect so little of me. You’re very independent. But I do not care to take my chances with your accessibility. I would like to propose a different arrangement.”

When she glanced up, his gaze was waiting to snare hers. The hazel-green tone was very, very green. Avid in a possessive, masculine way. Mine.

Her stomach swooped and she scented danger, yet it was the lofty danger of swinging out on a rope over a cliff on a bottomless lake. Life threatening, but exhilarating.

“A retainer?” she mocked.

“Of a sort. I’ve never had a mistress, but I begin to see the benefits.”

She was knocked speechless. For a few painful heartbeats, she could only stare, then pointed out, “So. Not a proposal. A proposition.”

Her pulse raced in panic and she looked across the room at the pretty clothes he was already trying to purchase for her.

Get what you can.

“I believe there are websites where women advertise for sponsors. Perhaps start there,” she suggested thinly.

“I don’t want a mistress. I want you. Look.” He waved at the plates they hadn’t yet touched. “I can eat plain scrambled eggs and there’s nothing wrong with that, especially when I’m hungry, but if I have the option to eat one poached to perfection, delicately spiced and accompanied by a tempting banquet of other flavors, one that not only sates the appetite but is a joy with every bite, why the hell wouldn’t I want the quality ones?”

“And since you’re used to buying the best, I’m sure you think you can afford the eggs you see in front of you today. In this case, you can’t.”

“I’m very rich.”

“I’d rather go hungry than sell myself.”

He made a noise that was decidedly French. “Forget the metaphors and eat the damned eggs before they go cold.”

After they’d both taken a couple of bites, he said, “I’m never going to marry. Long-term dating, in the traditional sense, is a false promise I won’t make. Women come to me, come on to me, at a steady enough rate that I’ve never lacked for company.”

“I kind of prefer the not calling over this turn of conversation.” She flashed a humorless smile. “Just saying.”

“But if I expect a woman to make herself exclusive to me, I ought to provide something in return.”

“Your charm isn’t enough?” She blinked in fake shock.

“Have you heard of erotic spanking, Cinnia? Some women find it pleasurable and deliberately test a man’s patience with backchat, looking for a hot bottom.” He showed his teeth. “Just saying.”

Wicked, evil man. For one second, she thought about that. Started to blush, and told herself to smarten up.

“You want it straight, Henri?” she challenged, stomach twisting. “Not shaken nor stirred? Fine.”

She seemed to have no pride where he was concerned anyway. She dropped back in her chair and gave him a hate-filled glare for forcing her to bring up the pathetic mistakes of her past.

“I told you my father left his estate in a mess. We were in dire straits, actually. Really dire. Mum and my sisters have a hard time seeing it, especially Mum. She has this throwback notion that if one of us marries well, all our problems will be solved. You asked me last night what happened with my ex-boyfriend. That’s what happened.”

“He was rich and didn’t want to marry you?”

“Exactly. Except that we’d been poor together, struggling through school and scrambling for rent every month for a year when we moved here to the city. I was actually the one making more money for the first while. I thought we were in love and that we would get married. Then his folks sold a piece of property and said they were going to split the money between their children. It was a few hundred thousand each, enough to make a nice down payment on a good home. I honestly thought he was being cagey for the weeks following the sale because he was shopping for an engagement ring and planning how to propose.”