By the time we finished savoring a wide array of hearty French dishes, hours had slipped away. Inside the restaurant, Tristan threaded his fingers through mine and I tried not to be distracted by how soft and warm they felt as we bid our goodbyes to Zachary who thanked us for coming and promised to be at our wedding.

Aside from Tristan's grilling phone calls, the ride back was silent. While Phillip played soft classical tunes, I busied myself with absorbing the city and watching the happy-go-lucky people who crowded the sidewalks and seemed to have no care in the world.

Upon arriving at our penthouse, I didn't wait for anyone to open the car door. I swiftly unbuckled my seatbelt and hopped down.

We both took the elevator up in awkward silence. Once it dinged and the metal doors opened, I walked out first but Tristan grabbed my hand before I could make it too far.

What now?

I turned.

His eyes were dull and distant. "Tomorrow afternoon, you'll be meeting my grandfather for an official introduction." He explained, releasing my hand. "The dress I want you to wear will be delivered prior."

"Why do I always have to wear what you want?" I asked, not at all hiding my displeasure.

"Because it's my house and it's my money."

I retorted. "Well, it's my body."

He glowered at me. "Ms. Bardot, are we going to argue again?"

I glowered right back. "Are you going to be difficult again?"

His lips pursed. He looked like he wanted to argue but decided against it.

Thank God, because I didn't have the strength either.

"I'll have the stylist send over a few appropriate designs you can select from." He resolved after a silent moment of holding my gaze.

I smiled in satisfaction. "Thank you."

"Good night." With that, he turned on his heels and walked away gracefully, leaving me to ogle at the rear view of his perfect tight ass enclosed in that even tighter suit.

When I eventually snapped out of my daze, I walked through the vast and still unfamiliar space to my room.

"Welcome home, Sienna." Ava received me, turning on the room lights to reveal its grandeur.

I smiled wryly and looked at the ceiling. "It feels good to be home."

In the bathroom, I rolled my hair up, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went for a short, steaming shower that warmed my bones.

When I got out, I cleaned my wet hair in one of the plentiful plush towels and pulled on the jersey and panty shorts, and I was just about to hop into bed when the shining diamond necklace sitting on my vanity desk caught my attention.

The heirloom.

I should return it.

I stole out of bed, picked it up, and walked into the dimmed hallway. A few strides led me to Tristan's door. I paused in front of it and knocked softly. "Mr. Larsen?"

No reply.

Bravely, I pulled the handle of his door and stuck my head in the opening. It was dark. He wasn't here.

I withdrew my head and shut the door.

The study.

Something told me he would be there. I pivoted and ambled in that direction.

Walking down the hall was silent. I strained my ears but there was no noise. I supposed he liked it that way. Back in Chicago peace and quiet was the last thing you could have. If it wasn't cars honking in the nearby traffic, it was the neighborhood dog barking and the sounds of sirens that somehow never stopped.

I guess they didn't have that here. Or maybe it was because we were so high up in the sky that the worries of others seemed unreal and unimportant.

The study was tucked away at the far end of the apartment where no noise could possibly exist. The thick study door was ajar. I stood, stuck for a moment, then I knocked and pushed the door open, greeted by the musky smell of old books.

Inside was bright, spacious, and neatly furnished with a floor-to-ceiling window and tall shelves that housed old-looking books lined perfectly in an orderly fashion.

Tristan sat behind the huge oak desk, brooding over his computer screen as he typed viciously.

Did he ever rest?

His long damp hair fell over his face and he looked sexy as sin; pulling a Clark Kent with those clear glasses sitting comfortably on his pointed nose.

You'd think seeing him wear something that wasn't a suit would make him look less intimidating but the black turtleneck cashmere sweater he had on begged to differ. This man was dark and dangerous with intensely wicked beauty. He was unbearably sexy with not a single flaw in his body, and if he were to be in a movie, he would be the villain, the kind every girl masturbated to.

"Did you lose your way?" He asked out of the blue, his thick voice penetrating the silence, bitch slapping me out of my reverie.

I blinked. "No," I croaked, flushing. He was still not looking at me but I could tell he knew I was checking him out. "Actually, I came to return this."

The typing stopped. He glanced up, catching me in his icy gaze. We stared at each other and slowly, as he continued to peer deeply at me, my heart kicked into a frantic beat.

Finally, his eyes lowered from mine to the space on his desk. "Drop it."

Swallowing, I moved forward, carefully setting the item on the desk. A glimpse at his lower half revealed he was wearing black cotton sleep pants.

"You can leave." He dismissed.

I stood up straight. "One more thing."

"Be quick."

I hooked my fingers together, chewing the inside of my cheek. "Before my arrival, Stefan told me I was going to get paid half upfront, I want to know when that will be."

His dark gaze raked over me. "Once we've signed the wedding contract, the funds will be wired to an offshore account I'll create for you."

"Great, thank you." I pivoted to leave.

"Wait."

His command stopped me. I turned, watching as he reached under his desk for a paper that he stretched out for me to take. "For the books, I wrote down our back story. How we met, fell in love, how I proposed."

I received the paper and scanned through it. "So you proposed to me in your penthouse?"

He nodded. "It was private."

"How romantic," I said dryly.

"It's believable." He prompted, getting up and circling around his desk. "I purposely scheduled today for a test run to see how well you can play your part but you failed wholesomely."

I snorted. "How else was I supposed to act?"

He perched on the edge of the desk, looking at me keenly. "Lovers touch, caress, kiss. They act comfortable around each other but you kept freezing and stiffening like I had a knife to your neck."

I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth. He was right. "I'm simply not used to it," I explained.

"Used to what?" His eyebrows lifted. "Being held, kissed? Are you a virgin?"

My cheeks heated. "No," I sputtered. "It doesn't matter if I am or not. I'm just not used to it."

He got up, standing straight. "Well, you should because my grandfather might be old but he is no fool. This is not going to work if you continue stiffening every time I come close to you. Perhaps a practice section will do us both good."

I gulped. "What exactly are you playing at?"

His gaze dropped to my mouth and my muscles tightened unexpectedly at the thought of what he might mean.

"N-No." I protested, taking a step back.

He advanced forward. "It's not a matter of what you want, Ms. Bardot. I need to be sure you won't run screaming when I kiss you."

"I won't."

"Somehow, I'm not convinced."

"I can fake it."

"Show me." He stepped forward again, coming so close, too close.

"What are you doing?" I stammered, voice hoarse.

"Kiss me."

"I don't want to."

"You need to."

"No."

He tilted his head. "What are you scared of?"

"Nothing."

"Have you ever kissed a man before?"

"Yes!"

"You're not really a virgin, are you?"

"I said no, okay!" I snapped defensively, trying to tame my beating heart. Why did he have so much effect on me? "I'm not a virgin!"

"I find that hard to believe."

"I am not!"

"Prove it then. Kiss me."

My cheeks burned red. "Fine!" I hissed and without thinking, I stood on tiptoe, and grabbed a handful of his sweater. "You want me to kiss you so bad, here, have it." I pulled his lips to mine, kissing him with so much force that he groaned into my mouth, and that single act of initiated passion made a sharp jolt of electricity shoot up my legs.

I gasped and pulled away instantly. What was that? "T-that convincing enough for you?"

I had expected a snarky comeback but he was silent, his intense gaze sliding down lazily from my eyes to my parted lips. "Not merely enough." He remarked hoarsely, his hands stealing around my waist and pulling me flush against his hard chest. "One more time."

My heart pounded so harshly that I thought it would rip out of my chest. I should have stopped him right there when he dunked his head but I didn't. I convinced myself it was just for practice and allowed this man seal his soft mouth over mine.

And God, he could kiss.

I'd never been handled like this before. He claimed my mouth intensively, plunging his tongue deep without permission, stroking, flicking, sending liquid heat pulsing between my thighs.

We were hardly breathing, I was hardly thinking. He has stolen away my conscious thoughts, leaving me weak and nearly powerless against his poised seduction.

With a growl, he cupped the curve of my ass and steered me around, placing me on the edge of his desk. My subconscious screamed at me. What were we doing? Why was he parting my legs and settling between them? Why were his hands caressing my thighs? Why did my stomach feel like it was going to explode with a million different sensations?

Liquid heat rushed down my legs. I wasn't supposed to like this but only a fool would pretend not to be beguiled by his savagery. It was brutal; the way he seized my mouth and attacked every inch of nerve. It felt so damn good. Too good that I didn't realize when I threaded my fingers through his thick hair and moved my mouth back to his.

Fighting against the need to touch him was useless; I couldn't stop myself. I needed to feel him just as much as he was feeling me, once. My hands fell from his hair to his shoulders and I journeyed down his chest, down to the hem of his sweater.

He didn't stop me.

I edged on, lifting as much fabric as I could, letting my fingers sink into his hard slab of muscles flexing. So smooth. I wanted to stroke him all over. I tried. My fingers raked blindly over his chest as his heated kisses turned hotter and hotter, melting me. So strong, so warm. His heart was beating just as fast as mine, almost in sync with mine.

Lost in the trance, I dared to soar deeper, allowing my fingers to run down, scraping his skin. When I passed over his abdomen and found the band of his pants, his phone suddenly blared on the desk, making him abruptly stiffen and tear away from me.

The fog in my brain cleared in that moment, and I snapped out, realizing what we had done, what we would've done. Oh God. I stared down at my parted legs. Mortified at what I had almost let happen, I scrambled down from the desk and yanked my shirt down. "I-i need to leave."

I didn't wait for him to give a response; I just turned to the door and started walking, and I didn't stop walking until I was safe behind the door of my room, sagging against it.

Holy hell.