disapproval. The two
days he had spent away from the house in Rome he had seen her everywhere, in
cafes, meetings and restaurants as though she had put a spell on him. Mara was always in his thoughts.
The billionaire watched her struggle on her own with her badly
sprained ankle and holding the dress up. Maxine was too busy being distracted by Leon behind her and no longer
gave her support. Stephane bounded up the stairs towards her slipping an arm
around her tiny waist and taking her small slender hand in his own. He couldn’t help feeling triumphant as
he clutched her towards him like his prize possession signaling she belonged to
him to every man watching her.
“You look stunning, Mara. Every man can’t resist looking at you. Do you like the dress I bought for you?”
he whispered in her ear nodding to a passing guest.
“Yes of course I do,” she gushed and then frowned and stiffened her
tone a little. “But then you have
forced me to wear it. I’m glad that
you approve,” she said haughtily.
He laughed to cover his hurt at the jibe.
“I would love to see you dance but you must rest your ankle. I don’t want to see you on your feet too
much,” he told her leading her onto the middle of the chess board floor that
covered the grand hall used for the ball room.
Before she could object to his firm instruction he led her to a dark
green velvet carver chair positioned around one of the tables covered in white
damask in the ballroom dressed in pretty white flowers and green foliage. He sat next to her and took two glasses
of champagne from the Butler. His
full attention was hers alone.
The billionaire was anxious to make sure his captive’s every need
was taken care of. Was she
comfortable? Did she need anything for
the pain in her ankle after straining it on the stairs? He would not leave her
alone, sitting as though without a partner. Stephane refused to dance with the elegant society women his mother paraded past him,
indulging in the only the barest niceties with them for the sake of appearance
and etiquette.
They sat in silence for a short while watching the small orchestra
on the stage and then Mara spoke. She made conversation discussing the room, asking details of its
history. He smiled Mara was a typical
English woman unable to bear silence needing to fill it with conversation to
stop herself feeling awkward.
“The traditional summer ball has been going for centuries. It was started by the lady over the
fireplace in your room,” he answered.
‘The Countess of Dufresne ?’
“Yes. She met her lovers
in your room. The rumour is that she used to select two, sometimes three
young men and take them to her chamber whilst the other guests were still
dancing and bedded all three at once,” he told Mara with a grin.
Mara’s eyes widened and she was about to speak when the Butler cut
in on them.
“I am sorry to interrupt again but your important business client
has arrived and is becoming impatient.”
Stephane glanced
at the entrance over Mara’s shoulder for confirmation.
“Yes I will be over in a minute, thank you.”
“I’m sorry, Mara but I will have to cut our conversation short. I won’t be long. In the meantime I want you to rest and I
don’t want to see you dancing, however much it is a shame not to see you enjoying
yourself.”
“I think I will be the judge of whether I am fit enough to dance,”
she said obediently sitting on one of the cushioned seats.
The billionaire shook his head.
“Do as you are told, Mara,” he warned and left.
Chapter Eight
Mara took another glass
of champagne from the tray and watched Maxine and the other couples elegantly
dancing to a waltz in front of her. Her mind drifted back to happier times, a time when she was sure of Ryan’s
love, to a New Years Eve ball where he had
days he had spent away from the house in Rome he had seen her everywhere, in
cafes, meetings and restaurants as though she had put a spell on him. Mara was always in his thoughts.
The billionaire watched her struggle on her own with her badly
sprained ankle and holding the dress up. Maxine was too busy being distracted by Leon behind her and no longer
gave her support. Stephane bounded up the stairs towards her slipping an arm
around her tiny waist and taking her small slender hand in his own. He couldn’t help feeling triumphant as
he clutched her towards him like his prize possession signaling she belonged to
him to every man watching her.
“You look stunning, Mara. Every man can’t resist looking at you. Do you like the dress I bought for you?”
he whispered in her ear nodding to a passing guest.
“Yes of course I do,” she gushed and then frowned and stiffened her
tone a little. “But then you have
forced me to wear it. I’m glad that
you approve,” she said haughtily.
He laughed to cover his hurt at the jibe.
“I would love to see you dance but you must rest your ankle. I don’t want to see you on your feet too
much,” he told her leading her onto the middle of the chess board floor that
covered the grand hall used for the ball room.
Before she could object to his firm instruction he led her to a dark
green velvet carver chair positioned around one of the tables covered in white
damask in the ballroom dressed in pretty white flowers and green foliage. He sat next to her and took two glasses
of champagne from the Butler. His
full attention was hers alone.
The billionaire was anxious to make sure his captive’s every need
was taken care of. Was she
comfortable? Did she need anything for
the pain in her ankle after straining it on the stairs? He would not leave her
alone, sitting as though without a partner. Stephane refused to dance with the elegant society women his mother paraded past him,
indulging in the only the barest niceties with them for the sake of appearance
and etiquette.
They sat in silence for a short while watching the small orchestra
on the stage and then Mara spoke. She made conversation discussing the room, asking details of its
history. He smiled Mara was a typical
English woman unable to bear silence needing to fill it with conversation to
stop herself feeling awkward.
“The traditional summer ball has been going for centuries. It was started by the lady over the
fireplace in your room,” he answered.
‘The Countess of Dufresne ?’
“Yes. She met her lovers
in your room. The rumour is that she used to select two, sometimes three
young men and take them to her chamber whilst the other guests were still
dancing and bedded all three at once,” he told Mara with a grin.
Mara’s eyes widened and she was about to speak when the Butler cut
in on them.
“I am sorry to interrupt again but your important business client
has arrived and is becoming impatient.”
Stephane glanced
at the entrance over Mara’s shoulder for confirmation.
“Yes I will be over in a minute, thank you.”
“I’m sorry, Mara but I will have to cut our conversation short. I won’t be long. In the meantime I want you to rest and I
don’t want to see you dancing, however much it is a shame not to see you enjoying
yourself.”
“I think I will be the judge of whether I am fit enough to dance,”
she said obediently sitting on one of the cushioned seats.
The billionaire shook his head.
“Do as you are told, Mara,” he warned and left.
Chapter Eight
Mara took another glass
of champagne from the tray and watched Maxine and the other couples elegantly
dancing to a waltz in front of her. Her mind drifted back to happier times, a time when she was sure of Ryan’s
love, to a New Years Eve ball where he had
Similar Books
