La librairie des livres interdits

Marc Levy

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One man had the power to destroy Casey McMahon, personally and professionally: Jean Luc LeGrande, head of the century-old French cosmetics empire, LeGrande Cosmetique. One night of passion had put her in this position, and she had only herself to blame.
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“I know you’re in there. I saw you peering through the door. I’m not leaving, so you might as well let me in Casey.”

“Why? What do you want?” she asked.

“Do you want me to spell it out for you here in the hallway for everyone to hear?”

Casey yanked the door open. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me,” Jean Luc said as he charged into her suite.

Casey could smell the alcohol on his breath. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Not enough to forget this,” he said, grabbing her and pinning her against the door. His lips crushed hers as she pushed at his chest and tried to turn her head. “I want you Casey,” he demanded, one hand slipping inside her robe to massage a rosy peak.

Casey’s breath caught in her throat at the instant sensation of pleasure.

This was wrong. So wrong.

But it felt so right. Why did it feel so right.

Jean Luc’s hands moved like liquid fire, lighting a trail of heat in her.

His other hand slid underneath her robe, slipping into her so quickly, Casey could only lean into him in response.

His lips assaulted her neck, biting, nipping, slipping across the smooth plane until they landed on hers, his tongue hungrily demanding hers as his finger worked inside her.

Casey’s head rolled to one side. “No,” she said, fighting the fog of desire that engulfed her.

“You’re right. Not here,” he said, and picked her up to carry her to the bed.

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“Au contraire, mon coeur. You will come to Paris, Casey,” Jean Luc demanded, his harsh intake of breath fanning over her flushed face. “It was your vision that convinced my CEO to give your firm the contract. I bought into that vision, and I will entrust it to no one but you. Do we understand each other?” he said defiantly.

“Yes,” Casey whispered, his unspoken threat loud and clear.

If she didn’t go to Paris, she would lose everything. Her advertising agency would lose the multi-million dollar contract she’d worked so hard to secure, which meant she’d almost certainly lose her job – and the coveted president’s position she’d been gunning for for years. More than a decade of hopes, dreams and hard work flashed before her eyes.

Casey’s career was on the line … and so was her heart.

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