Chapter 6: If She Ran, He Would Follow

Adrian waited, his hand still at the back of Rosalie’s neck. Desire lingered in his reddened eyes, but his demand did not soften.

She looked away.

Marriage was impossible. She couldn’t stay long enough to give him the future he wanted, yet walking away empty-handed wasn’t an option either.

If chasing him hadn’t worked, she would make him chase her.

Rosalie glanced down at herself. Five years had softened the last traces of girlishness from her figure. The smoky-blue gown followed the curve of her breasts before drawing close around her narrow waist, while its parted skirt revealed one long leg. Her lipstick was half gone, leaving her mouth flushed and swollen from his kiss. A few curls had escaped her updo, lending her the lazy intimacy of a woman who had already spent the night in someone’s arms.

Adrian used to lose control over far less.

Her gaze dropped lower.

He noticed and immediately adjusted his jacket, shifting so she could see nothing. Rosalie’s confidence took a small hit.

Fine. She would leave him alone tonight and make him come to her.

She pushed his shoulder and returned to her seat. “Let me out. I’m going home.”

Adrian straightened at once. Whatever desire remained in his face disappeared.

“Home where?” Before she could answer, his voice hardened. “You’re not leaving.”

Rosalie stared at him. “I meant my hotel. Why can’t I go back?”

Then her eyes narrowed with amusement. “Unless you’d rather take me to your place and finish what we started.”

Adrian ignored the invitation. Only after confirming that she meant the Halcyon did the tension leave his shoulders. For one terrible second, he had thought she meant Paris.

“I’ll take you.”

He lowered the partition enough to speak to the driver. “Turn around. Back to the Halcyon.”

Rosalie refused to acknowledge him for the rest of the drive. She folded her arms and watched Manhattan pass beyond the window, determined to make him feel the loss of her attention.

Adrian lasted several minutes.

Her reflection floated over the glass: loosened curls, bare shoulders, the graceful line of her neck. Passing lights traced the shape of her dress and vanished. He watched with the grim concentration of a man choosing his own torture.

His breathing grew heavier. Before he could stop himself, he reached toward her waist.

The driver’s voice came through the intercom. “We’re here, Mr. Mercer.”

The car stopped. Rosalie reached for the door, but Adrian’s warm suit jacket settled over her shoulders.

“It’s cold outside.”

She hid a smile and stepped out.

Rosalie crossed the lobby slowly, well aware that Adrian was watching the oversized jacket sway around her body like a trophy. She never looked back.

He followed anyway.

By the time the elevator reached her floor, Adrian was standing behind her. Rosalie kept her expression cool until she unlocked her room and stepped inside. He remained in the hallway.

She leaned against the doorframe, his jacket wrapped around her, and let her voice turn soft.

“Would you like to come in, Mr. Mercer?”

Her fingers hooked into his belt and tugged him forward.

“Your wife must be asleep by now.”

A beautiful woman wearing his jacket, inviting a supposedly married billionaire into her hotel room—wasn’t that the kind of danger men enjoyed?

Adrian’s throat worked. The pull at his belt brought him to the threshold. Another inch and he would be inside, exactly where she wanted him.

He knew he wouldn’t stop once that door closed.

Rosalie watched him with victory already in her eyes.

The sight brought him back to his senses. If he gave in tonight, she might be on a flight to Paris by morning.

Adrian caught her hand and removed it from his belt. “Another time. My wife keeps a close eye on me. She’ll be calling to check.”

The teasing curve vanished from Rosalie’s mouth. She tore off his jacket and threw it at him.

“Then go home to her.”

Adrian caught it, openly amused. As she began closing the door, his smile faded.

“Don’t disappear.”

Rosalie paused with only half her face visible. Her gaze swept down his body and lingered below his waist.

“Adrian, did five years of celibacy break something?”

“Rosalie!”

The door slammed in his face. A second later, the deadbolt snapped into place with deliberate force.

Adrian stood in the hallway holding the jacket that still carried her perfume. Eventually, anger gave way to reluctant laughter.

Ten minutes later, the Bentley left the hotel.

Adrian sat in the back with her scent filling the car. The panic he had felt when she said she was going home had not faded. She had vanished once, and he could not spend another five years waiting for someone who might never return.

He called Evan.

“Have Legal prepare everything I need for an extended stay in France.”

Evan took a moment to answer. “On a U.S. passport, you can enter France without a visa for up to ninety days. Anything longer requires a long-stay visa and a qualifying purpose. Do you have business there?”

“Not yet.”

“Then we would need a genuine investment or operating plan before pursuing an investor or executive route.”

Adrian looked down at the jacket in his lap.

“Tell International Strategy to evaluate opening an R&D center in Paris.”

Another pause followed. “Understood.”