Toby brown의 작품

They say she’s his lover…​Had someone spoken that? Was she putting words and thoughts into their mouths because of her own regrets?​Dragging in a calming breath, she crossed the sea of cubicles, then went down the art-packed hallway. At the far end, to the right of the massive carved doors that led to Henri's office, three identical rosewood desks stood. She slid in behind hers. The savvy Mrs. Warren, who’d been with Henri “longer than his mother has,” was quick to make her way around her own tidy workplace and greet Elizabeth.​“He’s very strange today,” the older woman said, eyes wide. “He smiled at me and he said ‘thank you.’”​The words didn’t diminish the kernel of fear settled in the pit of Elizabeth's stomach. If she so much as stepped out of her boundaries this week and onward... if she was fool enough to even remind him of Lyon... she dared not think of who would be sitting behind her desk next week.​“Then the deal must be going in his favor.” Elizabeth attempted a teasing

She was tidying up his office the next morning when Henri halted at the doorway. The sight of Elizabeth fiddling with the coffeemaker froze him, then heated up his blood.​As she poured a cup—black, as he liked it—the plain buttoned-up shirt she wore stretched across her breasts in a way that made watching feel like purgatory.​"Good morning."​She glanced up with a soft gasp. "Henri —Mr. Gagnon." And there went her breasts again, swelling, pert and lovely as she took a little breath.​His heart thudded as they stared at each other, the words lingering in the air. Mr. Gagnon.​A word meant to erase everything that had happened in Lyon, France.​Having never expected she would make it this easy, he stepped inside and pulled the doors shut behind him. "Good morning, Miss Stone."​He really could do this.They'd pretended to be lovers before.Now they would pretend they never had been.Black coffee mug cradled against her chest, Elizabeth stared at him with the glazed wariness of a woman

​Oh, God. She squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t fall in love with him, don’t fall in love with him, don’t fall in love with him. She scoffed, yanking her arm free as she sat up. “What? You think you’re all that and then some? That I cannot resist you? I’ll have you know... my heart... was not part of our bargain. You’re the boss and I’m the employee. This is an arrangement.”​One callused palm ran slowly up the side of her leg, the heat of it seeping through her skin. “And yet it’s easy to forget who we are here, isn’t it? Easy to get confused.”​She frowned at the genuine concern in his voice. To drown out the vulnerability, she grabbed his head, defiantly pulling his lips to hers.​Lovers. That was all they were.​It felt as real as anything she’d ever known, but she wondered if she could ever make him see it. They had come to understand each other—too well, perhaps. They talked, but never of the future; they shared everything, but never themselves. They played their parts, just as they

She loved Lyon.​There was something deliciously decadent about the way they spent the following days, poking around little shops, lingering in restaurants, and wandering the city streets.​That afternoon, as Elizabeth’s heels clicked against the marbled floors of the awe-inspiring Musée des Beaux-Arts, she drew in a deep, reverent breath. This was a luxury she’d never allowed herself before. In the past, she’d rarely permitted herself outings to relax or stimulate her mind; she’d always been too consumed by worry.​Now, as she wove through the exhibits with Henri’s presence a steady warmth beside her, she felt as though she’d stepped into an alternate reality. She viewed every painting and sculpture with the eyes of a woman who had suddenly acquired sight—and hearing, and touch. The colors were vibrant; the themes were all passionate. Even death, captured in oil and stone, seemed to pulse with life.​That night, Henri took her to Café Comptoir Abel, tucked just blocks away from the c

​He couldn't tear his eyes away from her.​She was the same woman he'd wanted for so long, and yet she had become someone else—a woman who was comfortable in his presence, smiling, laughing, and unafraid to speak her mind.​With eyes sparkling as the helicopter touched the ground, Elizabeth pulled his headphones down around his neck. "That's Gagnon Autos?" she yelled over the roar of the rotors.​He glanced out the window, squeezing her fingers with his. It felt impossible, but her excitement was rubbing off on him. "That’s it, yes."​Once they climbed out, Henri surveyed the vast industrial building that sat on two hundred acres of land. It was smaller than he remembered—but then, he’d been so much younger when he last stood here.​The sun blazed overhead. In that moment, Henri didn't see how aged the building appeared or notice the heaps of auto parts left to ruin. He saw his father and his younger self, discussing plans for a new class of automobiles and their marketing advantages.

Elizabeth stirred on the bed. She stretched her arms first, then her legs, sighing when it hurt pleasantly to do both.​"...in an hour… yes… we’ll be there…"​Elizabeth bolted upright when she recognized that particular deep baritone. Her head swam. Memories flooded back—lips tugging at her nipples, fingers pinching, touching, pleasuring… whispers in the dark. A throb started between her legs. She squeezed her eyes shut and swung her feet until her toes touched the carpet. Calm down, she told herself. She would not panic.​Sunlight flooded the living room, making her squint as she entered. Henri stood by the window in a crisp shirt and slacks. His raven-black hair looked damp from a recent bath. He was a formidable presence; sturdy and unshakable, he commanded the space just by standing in it. That was simply the way he was.​"Good morning," she muttered.​He turned and smiled.​Elizabeth poured a cup of coffee from the carafe, set it on a small round table beside the desk, and lowere