His to Defend - Em Petrova Page 0,3
raised a fist and struck the next door in a series of blows that shook the steel in the frame. “Moreau! I know you’re in there!”
Her phone rang again, and she knew it would be Brun calling to demand her client’s attention. She ignored the call and raised her fist again, when the door flew open.
Pierre stared down at her, that wicked smile on his face that would manipulate a butterfly out of its wings and seduced every woman he ever encountered—except her. Not that he hadn’t tried.
She leveled him in her best glare. “Monsieur Brun is downstairs waiting for you. Did you forget your meeting?”
Behind him in the depths of the room, she saw the blonde light a cigarette and pinch her robe shut over her nudity.
Well, that didn’t take him very long. From what she could guess, Pierre would be a terrible lover. He took all of seconds with a conquest. Then again, his life had been built on speed.
“Please go downstairs and sit with Monsieur Brun, Pierre. He’s already angry that you’ve kept him waiting.” She lowered her voice. “Do you think your time is more important than your sponsor’s?”
He made a little shooing motion with his hand that infuriated her for the number of times he made it. “Tell him I’ll be down.”
“No. Now,” she said, using her father’s sternest French.
Pierre’s dark eyes roamed over her. He certainly possessed a charisma that sucked in every woman around him, and he tried to use his charm on her now.
She threw a look behind him at his lover. “You—get dressed immediately. Pierre, I hope you used a condom, because you don’t want any more bastards.”
The woman gasped, and Lillian gave her a smug smile. Pierre’s eyes narrowed on her as he stepped out of the room, into the corridor. If he’d had intercourse with the lady, then he must not have done more than drop his trousers—the man remained fully dressed, including shoes.
Lillian put a hand on his arm. “We must hurry.”
He glanced back at his lover, who sent him a glare, probably believing herself duped into thinking she held importance to him, like so many others. Quietly, he pulled the door closed. Lillian tugged on his arm again.
“Do not rush me, woman. See what you did back there?”
“Oui. Do you see the position you put me into? You make me look like an incompetent fool every time you fail to show up when asked. If you lose Brun as your backer, how do you suppose you will race? Do you think another sponsor will be willing to throw another million euros at you after you’ve been so ungrateful about this sponsor?” She walked quickly, and his longer legs could outstrip her, though he remained a step behind, which made her feel like an irritated mother dragging her errant son behind her.
“If I could take you by the ear, I would, Pierre.”
That earned a laugh from the man. She swallowed a groan and towed him into the elevator with her. If she’d learned anything from working with the top racecar driver, it was that men really were children who needed led around. Some women preferred to lead them by the peckers, though Lillian took the upper hand by way of her foul American mouth mixed with her French father’s determination.
Once the elevator doors closed, she rounded on him. “You stink of cheap perfume, and you have lipstick on your jaw.” With disgust, she whipped a tissue from her purse and thrust it into his hand. He dabbed at the wrong spot, and she grabbed his wrist to guide him to the right one.
“You better kiss up to Brun. You better pour on the charm, Pierre.”
He sliced a nonchalant grin her way. “I always smooth things over, do I not? Take the scowl from your face. It doesn’t become such a beautiful woman.”
“You can’t charm me, Pierre. I see right through you. You’re a good racer but a lazy public figure. You do the bare minimum to slide by, and you think your pleasure comes first in life. The top don’t stay at the top very long if they don’t commit to the business practices it will take to succeed. Here, give me that.” She ripped the tissue from his hand and cleaned the last of the foul red lipstick off his jaw.
“Have I told you how adorable you are when you’re angry?”
She hitched her brows up so far that they probably disappeared under the fringe of hair on