Page 220 of My French Love Affair

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"Come on then, Poppy - let’s go now, before I get pulled into something else."

Her gaze snaps to mine, sharp as a blade.

For a moment, she just sits there, glaring, her fingers curled around the stem of her glass, her entire body radiating defiance.

The tension between us crackles - an invisible current, winding tighter and daring her to refuse me.

For a second, I think she will.

I think she might ignore me completely, throw another sweet, sharp-edged smile my way and leave me standing here like a fool.

But then - slowly,purposefully- she places her hand in mine.

The moment her skin touches mine, something hot and possessive coils in my gut.

She rises to her feet, graceful as ever. I watch with careful eyes as she brushes down her dress, her chin lifting slightly in challenge.

Then, turning to her friends, she flashes them a perfectly composed smile.

"I’ll see you soon."

I smirk, squeezing her hand.

That’s right, mon ange.

You can run.

But I’llalwayscatch you.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Poppy

My pulse roars as Frederic leads me away, his grip firm and unrelenting as he steers me through the sleek corridors.

I should stop him.

I should dig my heels in and demand answers.

I should snap back at him for the way he just claimed me in front of everyone.

But I don’t.

My brain is short-circuiting, my skin is flushed, and my entire body is thrumming with a mix of adrenaline and something far,farmore dangerous.

Something hot and needy and impossible to ignore.

What the fuck is wrong with me?!

I should be furious. I should be humiliated.

I should be storming off in the opposite direction, leaving him behind and making itvery fucking clearthat I’m not something he gets to control.

And yet, here I am.

Like a moth to a flame, I’m following his lead.

The corridor is quieter back here. We’re far from the media, far from the spectators, and far from the general noise of the venue.

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