Strictly Taboo(39)
It was quiet and peaceful in my head. Life was at ease again. I wasn’t worried about Mary, or the office, or anything else while Bret held me close.
We left after a few moments, battling the crowds as they swarmed to the dining tables. The valet gathered Bret’s car within seconds and it wasn’t until we were nearly back to his house that I remembered.
“I hope you like cats.”
He winked at me. “I do. I have a big tom cat that lives at my beach house.”
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The French Billionaire
Billionaire Romance
By: Lisa Cartwright
Copyright 2015 by Lisa Cartwright - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
Chapter One
Emily Goodson’s journey into French culture started with a phone call from her sister, Lynette. After the usual pleasantries, Lynette said, “Something came up which helps both of us. You need work in your area. I need someone inside a certain business. Someone with your talents and equipment fits exactly. It shouldn’t be dangerous, but I’d keep my head up if I were you.”
Emily took down the information. She was going to be applying for a job with a small company that dealt in paintings.
As she gets ready for her interview, she realizes she has to take the mirror out of the closet. It wasn’t easy for her. She gathered her courage and retrieved the full length mirror and set it against a wall.
Facing away from the mirror, Emily prepared herself like a knight putting on armor. First, her pretty panties from Victoria’s Secret. They were a lovely shade of blue and cut like a bikini. She’d never had that kind of panty before. She’d always used the full variety.
She held her breath and turned around. There she was and the sight didn’t make her want to cry. She turned from side to side and smiled. She turned all the way around and looked over her shoulder and smiled. No cellulite, no flab, not mottled or discolor skin. Her body looked fantastic’ curvaceous and full.
She moved her eyes above her waist. Her breasts had always pleased her. Even when she was so heavy, they never drooped or fell. Always buoyant, always shaped as if they belonged in a man’s hand. She knew they were her best feature. She’d shopped online for just the right bra and found a demi bra from a French company that fit perfectly. It pushed her breasts up just the right amount to give her some fullness in a top with a low neckline without making her look cheap.
She slipped into the skirt and a top with a scoop neckline. She turned around and smiled again.
In the previous year, Emily lost over a hundred pounds. Her new body was round and firm. Her brother told her that her body was perfect for a man who liked to grab something and hold on.
The address took her to a long empty street in the hills above Malibu. The street ended in a cul-de-sac with one building. She parked, got out of the car and stared. It was a Queen Anne mansion that stretched for two hundred feet in front of her. Four separate towers lifted off the main building. Each roof had a weather vane of a different style.
She climbed the stairs and rang the bell. The man who answered the door appeared out of breath, as if he had been somewhere far away from the door. He said, “Good morning. May I help you?” Emily had never heard a butler speak with a French accent. In his mouth, it sounded foreign, not to the country but to the job, as if a poet were working a road crew.
Emily said, “Yes. I’m Emily Goodson. I’m applying for the job of curator. I’m supposed to talk with Mr. Latrec.”
“Please follow me.”
The man was tall and stocky. He wore a black suit and tie and looked perfect for the role of butler. As Emily walked behind him she glanced in each room they passed. Paintings by artists she revered hung in every room. She hoped they were all fakes. Any house with as many perfect paintings as this would be a prime target for thieves.
The man led her into a kitchen. He took off his coat and got a clean apron from a hook on the wall. Another man stood at a stove big enough to service a restaurant. The man she followed said, “I am back now. You may stop stirring.” He took the spoon away from the other man and examined whatever was cooking with a practiced eye. “Bon. You did a good job this time. The béchamel is perfectly blended. Bon.”