Nancy_Jim

“What did you say?” Félix asked. 

She repeated, “Name your price.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

His voice had tapered off with an unreadable emotion that got her weak in her knees, but she held out her chin. “Didn't you once offer to pay me off? Now, make me an offer I cannot refuse. Otherwise, I will go in there"—she gestured toward the Ball—"and make everyone think you dragged me out here to take advantage of me. I know exactly what that would do to your reputation.”

“Say. That. Again,” Félix said through gritted teeth as he inched closer to her.


======================

She hadn’t meant to upset him or, worse, blackmail him. She didn’t even know who he was; she only knew he looked important because of how regally he stood in the moonlit dark.

Estella was the baron of Cleverdale’s youngest, born into a hard life and always kept on her toes. Her stepsisters hated her. The baroness loathed her. And her father, the only one she called family, shattered her heart when he sold her to Viscount Alistair Ravensdale to cover up his misdeeds.

The night of Lady Agatha’s ball, she seized her chance and ran straight into … Duke Félix of Chateaûbriant.

In the dark, he mistook her for Princess Coralie, his fiancée, and kissed her. When the moon revealed her face, something about her stuck with him. He couldn’t shake the image of her running wildly or how she smelled like white lotus with hardcore roots. But when she threatened his reputation, he refused to play along.

She returned to her world of cruel sisters and an unwanted engagement. What she hadn’t prepared for was the Duke arriving at her doorstep, making two outrageous claims.

One. He was the Duke of Chateaûbriant.

And two. She had stolen something valuable from him that night.

What had she stolen without knowing it? Or worse, what could he possibly demand as repayment?

✯Like it? Add to Library!

The Duke’s Bargain

Chapter 32

She should leave. She just, she had to. Now.

Slouched on the round-shouldered chair, Estella chewed her hair like she was eating finely cut, thin-sliced sheets of cheese – the kind she frequently snacked off Georgina's leftovers the instant the precious plate plugged into the kitchen sink.

Between replaying the Duke's improper but butterfly-sprouting action of snagging her waist, pulling her close, and sniffing her scent like he owned it when he dunked his nasal bridge in the dip of her collarbone…

Re-hearing his bittersweet 'Stay,' he'd mouthed in the most soul-lifting growly voice – gruff and deliciously teasing – echo for the umpteenth time in her head today.

Fallout (1)