Page 219 of My French Love Affair

My attention is on her, and her alone.

At some point, the brunette finally moves herself from Jacques’ lap as he heads over to the bar. She sits down beside her friends instead, and the conversation shifts.

"Everything back on track?" one of them asks her.

"He’s making an effort," the brunette says. "So we’ll see."

I take advantage of the new opportunity, closing the space between Poppy and I with an ease that makes her spine stiffen.

My voice drops into something only for her ears.

"What the hell are you playing at?"

Poppy turns her head toward me, blinking up at me like I’ve just accused her of witchcraft.

Wide eyes, parted lips, and an expression of perfect, practiced innocence.

"I don’t know what you mean," she murmurs, her tone sickeningly pleasant.

Too pleasant. Too sweet.

Too fuckingsmug.

My teeth grind together, my fingers curling against my knee as I fight the urge to wipe that little smirk off her face in the most satisfying way possible.

"I invited you."

"Yousummonedme," she corrects, her voice just as low, just as taunting. "And I was happy here. With my friends. Plus, I figured you were busy anyway - you being the man of the hour, and all." She tilts her head in a way that’s infuriatingly playful. "So what’s the issue?"

I exhale sharply through my nose, my patience hanging by a fucking thread.

"The issue," I murmur, my voice smooth and sharp as a blade, "is thatnobodysays no to me."

She arches a single, delicate brow.

"I’m notnobody," she purrs, tilting her chin with a defiance that punches straight to my cock. "And I’m not your little bitch that you get to boss around."

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

My fingers twitch against my knee, aching to grip her throat, to bend her over and remind her exactly who the fuck shebelongs to.

To fuck every ounce of that insolence right out of her.

Instead, I lean in, my lips brushing dangerously close to her ear, my voice sinking into something that sends a delicious little shiver down her spine.

"You are what I say you are."

Her breath catches, and I smirk.

Gotcha, sweetheart.

"And you’remine."

I pull back, straightening, and watch her crumble.

She’s silent, her fingers tightening subtly against the hem of her dress, her thighs pressing ever-so-slightly together.

I push to my feet, my presence towering over the group as I reach out my hand - deliberate, unmistakable, and in full view of everyone.

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