far as being a professional goes, trust me Sloane, when I use you—”

I allow my eyes to travel down the length of her, leaving no inch of perfect, dark brown skin untouched by my gaze.

“—or your services—”

Now, my lips curl up into a hint of a grin.

“—it will be strictly business.”

I watch her fingers instinctively curl, wanting to tug the towel further down her legs or tighten it around her chest, but she maintains the facade of confident indifference.

“But when it comes to being a gentleman, there is no such thing. Those men you assume are behaving themselves are really just sharks savoring the hunt.”

Her eyes narrow with contempt while her mouth twists into a sardonic smirk. “Then savor away, so long as it’s from an arm’s length distance.”

“Mine or yours?”

She raises one eyebrow. “I can use mine if I have too,” she warns. “I suggest it doesn’t come to that.”

“That sounded distinctly like a threat,” I say, my eyes flashing, partially with excitement at the prospect of getting physical with Sloane.

“Take it however you want.”

“That I shall,” I say in a tone of voice that warns her off any further threats. Her only reaction is to swallow hard, then straighten her shoulders and lift her chin defiantly, eyes not even wavering as they stare back at me.

I find it fiercely erotic.

Even in nothing but a towel, she looks like a damn queen. I have a feeling it will be harder to knock that crown off than I originally anticipated.

Good.

It’s been a while since I had a worthy foe. All the better if I can mix business with pleasure. I allow my eyes to scan her long legs again. They are closed tighter than a clamshell, bent slightly to the side in a prim ladylike manner that’s enticingly contradictory to how much skin the position reveals.

“Any other rules for your boss?” I say in a dry voice.

“That’s all…for now.” She inhales as a segue before continuing. “So, what is it exactly you require from me, Magnus?”

“I assume you received news of the money I wired to your firm?”

“I did. It was…certainly sufficient. For forty days of work.”

“Or more.”

Her eyelashes flicker. “So long as my firm allows it.

“They will.”

Her brow begins to worry. I’m cutting into whatever timeline Jan has given her to get what she needs from me. That’s no matter to me. Nor should it be to her, though I won’t say so just yet.

He’ll be dead before those forty days are up.

“Yesterday, I mentioned that I was having a small gathering on my yacht tonight. The Mako.” I say with gleaming eyes.

“I know the name,” she says in a slightly patronizing voice.

“Instead of taking my original date, I’ll be taking you.”

She blinks once. “I don’t want to intrude on your personal life.”

A wry smirk touches my lips. “She’s strictly professional, in a manner of speaking. Not to worry, she’ll still get her twenty-thousand euros for the evening.”

Sloane’s mouth falls open, which is exactly the reaction I was hoping for. Hopefully, that erases any preconceived notions she has of what the term “professional” encompasses.

“You mean a—a…?

“Yes, a. Don’t be naive, Sloane.”

“I refuse to be mistaken for a prostitute.” She says the last word in a low hiss, as though saying it too loudly will instantly transform her into one.

“Prejudice is unbecoming on you,” I say in a scolding tone.

“I’m not judging,” she says quickly. “I just...”

“No one will mistake you for a prostitute. Though for twenty-thousand euros a night, she’d better have delivered something better than a quick fuck. Women like her are paid more for what’s between their ears than what’s between their legs. All the same, trust me, your saintly reputation won’t be sullied with the suggestion that you’re a lady of the night.”

Her lips tighten almost as though she’s offended, which I find amusing.

“You’re wondering why you wouldn’t be, aren’t you?”

“I’m not.” A lie.

“Well then,” I say, sitting back up to conclude this business meeting. “I’ll be here at eight o’clock tonight. Be ready by then. Don’t worry, I’ll knock first.”

She glares at me.

My eyes fall on the rack of dresses leftover from yesterday. “Wear the gold, along with the gold shoes I sent up. It’s a fitting color on you.”

“Yes, sir,” she says in a clipped tone.

“Until then, the rest of the day is yours. Might I suggest the hotel spa? It’s rated as one of the best in the world. All free of charge, of course.”

“How very generous,” she says in a tone that is anything but gracious.

I ignore that. Standing up to leave, I stop to consider her. She’s staring out the window, avoiding me until the feel of my gaze on her forces her eyes to me.

“Anything else?” She asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Have you called your brother?”

She blinks in surprise at the shift in subjects.

“To let him know where you’ll be for the next forty days?”

“I don’t need to call him about this. My firm knows exactly where I am, as far as my safety goes.” She makes sure to stress this point, both with her tone of voice and the look she gives me.

It does nothing to change the considering look on my face. “Call him. Family is important.”

I leave before she can reply. Hopefully, I’ve put the suggestion in her head, and she’ll do just that. I’m curious to learn what she discovers.

Chapter Twenty-Two Sloane

I watch Magnus leave, wondering where that comment about my brother came from.

I think back to the quick research I did on Magnus before coming to Monte Carlo. I know he has one younger sister. I also know about the tragic deaths of his parents. Perhaps that’s what evoked a rare bit of sentimentality from the man.

I do have a sudden urge to call Theo if only to let him know that I’m getting warmer. Then I think about Jamie Reaves waiting to hear from me. There’s still time to catch him at a satisfyingly obscene hour of the night in New York—which he pretty much insisted

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