Temptation: a billionaire erotic romance by Christine Elliott

tuxedos and gowns flooding out onto the lawn.
    “So you don’t … associate with them at all?”
    Jacques snorted.  “Why would I?”  His smile came back and he looped an arm around her waist.  “Say, Screamer, you sure you don’t want to dance?  I’m a fabulous dancer.  Can’t say Jacques won’t be jealous, but, then again, I’d be jealous of me too.”
    “Jacques, please,” she pleaded.  “This is serious.”
    He sighed.  “Alright.  What?”
    Serena considered him.  She might as well come out with it before he was totally smashed on the wine.
    “I need you to tell me what Belladonna is.”
    Jacques’ expression changed in an instant.  The half-drunk flirty Jacques she had spoken to a moment ago disappeared, replaced by a man with a black expression and a furious glare.
    “Serena,” Jacques hissed.  “I can’t talk about this here!”
    “But Jacques—”
    He grabbed her arm, dragging her off away from the crowd.  He pushed past the server doors, pulling her into the clean, fluorescent-lit kitchen.  With a wave of his hand, he sent away the remaining waiters who had been chatting and filling their plates with food.  Serena grabbed her arm back, rubbing where he had grabbed her.  She wondered where friendly Jacques had gone, watching him pace around the kitchen while running his hands through his hair with an irritated look.
    “Serena, you need to forget about that,” he said.  “Why are you even bringing it up?  Who talked about it?”
    “Spencer,” she said.  “The man Val had over for dinner last night.  He said something about Belladonna, about it being used to hurt Val.  Jacques, what’s going on?”
    Jacques groaned in frustration.  “Shit.  Shit, shit, shit.  Serena, you need to forget about this.”
    “I can’t!” she cried.  “Not if it’s going to hurt Val.”
    “Drop it,” he ordered.
    “If you don’t tell me, I’ll go through every person at this party asking what Belladonna is.  You should probably tell me unless you want hundreds of people talking about Belladonna.”
    He glared at her for a few moments.  Then he threw his arms up and let out a string of profanities.  Serena waited patiently for him to finish, keeping her arms crossed.
    “You’re really not going to drop this, then?”
    “Of course not,” she answered.
    “Fine.  Sit down.  This is going to take a while.”
    She took a seat on one of the polished counters.  Jacques began digging through the cupboards, muttering something about needing something a little stronger to get through this.
    “So.  Belladonna and Harlow,” he said, pulling out a tall bottle of crystal clear vodka.  “First things first: you cannot tell anyone about this.  Not even Val.  Remember what I told you that first morning, Serena—if Val knows either of us have discussed this, that’s the end.  You’ll be sent away forever.  And me?”  He swallowed hard.  “Shit, my head’ll be on a pike.”
    She wasn’t sure if he was joking.  She decided not to ask.
    He began pouring himself a drink.  “Second thing: how do you think Valentine became so rich, Serena?  Any guesses?”
    “He’s a businessman, isn’t he?”
    Jacques snorted.  “Of course he is.  Any idea what his business is?”
    “Um….”  She considered it a moment.  “I think he’s talked about real estate a little.  And stocks.  A few luxury car companies and a few deals with jewelry companies.  I got the impression he does a little of everything.”
    “Right,” he said, pouring himself some vodka.  “But that’s now.  I’m asking you how he became rich.  The first thing he did.”
    Serena shrugged.  “I could never find that when I looked him up online.  He just appeared out of nowhere a few years ago after turning in Harlow.  I thought he got the money as a reward from the police or something.”
    Jacques sighed.  “Serena, honestly, how do you think someone gets so rich so fast?  Nothing legitimate