French Wanker - Victoria Pinder Page 0,18

relationship ending, but I hadn’t asked for details. I reached to close the windows, but then his friend said, “It is when you’re destroying your passion.”

My wanker had nothing but passion, except when he was rather brooding and silent. Part of me wanted to help, though that was silly. We hardly knew each other.

And then he said, “I’ll get over it.”

His friend said, “We’ll talk more seriously when you’re here.”

I had a horrible track record at fixing men. I doubted I’d ever trust myself to try seriously.

Marlon took my faith in love when he’d left.

I didn’t want to think about him, though.

Tonight was about Quentin and feelings and experience. Tomorrow when he was out of my life, I’d figure out what I did next.

We’d made no promises to each other. Once we made it to Monte Carlo, we would each go our separate ways. Now was all we had, and I wasn’t sure he’d even want my help.

I was a walking disaster. I’d been left at the altar and traveled alone.

Either way, I finally reached to lower the glass, but I heard him when he said, “Talk to you tomorrow.”

And his phone conversation was over. I rushed into the bathroom and checked that my legs were shaved, my breath was clean, and I smelled decent.

Minutes ticked past, and my heeled feet tapped the floor. As I patted my chest to count the seconds, I started to pace. He took too long, but if tonight went well, the prep would be worth it.

I ignored how my skin grew goosebumps, but then he jiggled our adjoining room door, and I called out, “Come in.”

He gazed at me, making my skin smolder. “My friends never stopped calling or talking. Are you coming over?”

So, he hadn’t wanted to ignore me. I sauntered over in my heels, but he stared at me like I was strange. Heat rose up my cheeks, but I tried to play it off. “I was confused for a minute. But I did hear a little bit and figured you were on the phone.”

He shrugged and opened the door for me to show me the table he’d set with the glasses, wine, and some fruit and cheese. “Friends in Monte Carlo were expecting me, and I needed to mention I was running late. And I wanted to change into sweats.”

My best friend, Sabrina, when she’d dropped me off at the airport had said to let go and have fun. Italian guys love American women, though I hadn’t made it to Italy yet. The logic probably worked on French guys, too, so as he closed the door, I gave him a once over. “And show off that perfect V-shaped pelvis of yours.” He tugged the elastic to tighten, but I shook my head and said, “Aww, don’t pull them up.”

Tonight was all we had, and that was fine. It had to be. I was here because my knees weakened near him. My skin sizzled for him, and we’d soon never see each other.

He came closer, and I thought he’d kiss my lips, but he chose my cheek and then directed me toward the couch in his room. “Let’s pour the glasses.”

I sat but placed my phone on the table as I didn’t need it here. He poured, but then it buzzed again.

Quentin picked it up and asked me, “Do you need to answer your phone?”

“Ignore it,” I said, but my hair stood on end.

He raised his eyebrow, and then answered it. “Bon soír, Marlon.”

That meant good evening, right?

I could hear Marlon’s muffled, “Who’s there?”

“L’homme qui va baiser votre ex.”

I had no idea what that meant, but I hoped it meant he and I bounced on that mattress of his for a while. I reached out and took my phone. “Marlon, don’t call me anymore.”

His voice was high-pitched as he asked, “You’re fucking a French guy?”

Not yet, but hopefully soon. Quentin, at this moment, hugged my waist and kissed my shoulder he’d exposed while I said, “He doesn’t look at me like a paycheck and then decided he didn’t want to make the commitment.”

Best part of quitting my job had been finding out Marlon had used me.

Quentin’s lips burned on my neck as he kissed me, like he’d marked me as his territory. “Give me the phone,” he whispered.

And like a fool, I handed it over without asking any questions. Quentin’s lips left my skin steaming for more of him, and he directed his voice to the phone. “Marlon, you lost Kara. She’s