Bartered (The Encounter #1)(35)

“So what did you think of it?”

Well… let’s see.





Chapter 20


Isobel


“You’re quite making your own rounds tonight, aren’t you, my little minx?” Hugo crept up right behind me, whispering mockingly just as Luca announced that the high limit blackjack tables were open for players.

“Well, you know little ol’ me,” I responded as I quietly bid farewell to Dimitris Kosta. He was quite impassioned when it came to films. I was certain it wasn’t just me who was saddened about his unfortunate departure. I mean, there were still a lot of hot, talented male actors around, but they sure as heck didn’t have those bluer-than-blues that made a woman weak in the knees. The Greek in me simply took over and was quite proud that he was one of our beloved actors. The paparazzi even more so.

Dimitris Kosta was a favorite of the tabloids. Greece just simply couldn’t get enough of him and his wealthy family. Women graced his arms left and right, but ever since he left the filming industry, the women had lessened. News still broke out about him, like him engaged to be married to that French woman named Claudine or something? There were rumors about him, too, being married to an American woman, but that it was annulled because she was too wild for him.

“You really need to learn how to mask your adoration,” Hugo commented the moment he heard me sigh in awe because of the handsome Greek. “You won’t fare well in gambling or with anything else in life that needs you to lie without blinking.”

He had a point. Much more so when it came to how I’d deal with Damen once it was time for me to tell him the less sordid version of my little stint of being Hugo Xavier’s plaything.

“You’re right. I will keep a close observation to learn from the very best.”

He smirked. “Keep this up, and I won’t be held accountable if I spank you in the nearest room available.”

Damn. Double damn, I thought disturbingly when I realized that I was very much turned on by this. What was wrong with me? Since when did the thought of being bent over with my arse up in the air and being spanked hold appeal?

“You don’t really behave, do you? Even in social functions, you’d still f*uk me if I allowed you to.” It was the first time I had uttered the word f*uk and me in the same sentence, and my God, my body’s reaction was amplified tenfold: blushing, goose bumps, and the works.

“Ma belle…” His already deep voice went down another notch, making me wantonly bite my bottom lip as he spoke into my delicate ear. “I don’t just f*uk. While I’m seated deeply in your delicious cunt, I’m ensnaring your soul, making love to your heart.” My breathing hitched as he held me entranced with the images he was planting in my mind before adding more visualization, “I f*uk ruthlessly…demandingly. But most of all, I’ll f*uk you until you gasp my name. Until you breathe me in and let me conquer you like no other man ever did. I take, Isobel,” he said ominously. “I take with no intention of ever giving it back.”

His arrogance was enlightening, alarming, arousing…

“What if I don’t…I don’t want to give any of that to you. What then?” Though I had meant to challenge him, I was disconcerted with the thought of him doing as he had so explicitly described. It simply made me want to give in just to test his assumptions. Surely someone had to put his arrogance into place? Well, I could at least very well try to do so.

“You will. There’s no question about that.” His confidence was appalling. “When your legs cling to my waist, caging my body while I take the liberty of yours,” he murmured the words just as his lips softly brushed against my nape, “I’m going to be the best thing you’ve ever had in between your thighs. Guaranteed.”

f*ukity f*uk. Where did this man ever get his lines? I needed to brush up on mine because he kept rendering me speechless.

“I don’t mean to crush your ego, but let me remind you that you can never be the best thing in between my thighs because there’s no emotional connection between us, so that can never be the best. For a man to do that to a woman, he has to be the king in all of those aspects; thus furthering my valid point that only a couple in love can achieve this sort of severe, transcendental connection.”

Taking a deep, slow, calming breath, I tried to remind myself that this was a game, like chess, where one needed to think three steps ahead of your opponent. Or, maybe more similarly, like the chase of Tom and Jerry. Yeah, I supposed the latter sounded more on par.

“So, you, my dearest, arrogant French man, cannot—will not—ever be the greatest thing for me. Never forget that, even if your passions override commonsense.”

“Oui…” he agreed without arguing with me. “Indeed, I will never forget this important detail, Isobel.”

“Good. At least we have something we agree on.” I smiled at him before giving him a soft peck on the cheek, but Hugo’s playful mood had completely left him.





The three card poker and blackjack tables were situated below deck where it was supposed to be the State Room for meetings and conferences. The minimum bet per hand was five hundred Euros. It was appalling how these people spent their money as if it was of no consequence, yet at the same time, it was quite something to witness firsthand.