Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
They call me Monsieur Le Dernier—the last face you'll see if you cross me.
But then comes Paris's most talented pickpocket. A nineteen-year-old girl who's as clever as she's fearless. And so foolishly brazen as to defy me...in public.
She should be eliminated.
Instead, I offer her my name, my wealth, my empire.
She thinks marriage to me is her punishment.
Silly girl.
She doesn't know this is only the beginning.
Each test I devise will push her to her limits. Each challenge designed to strip away another layer of resistance.
Pass, and she becomes my queen.
Fail, and she becomes my captive.
Either way, my ring stays on her finger.
This book also contains a bonus story, My Billionaire A Beauty and the Beast Retelling
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
WHAT WAS ONE TO DO when the woman he had sworn to protect was a darling little...thief?
And not only that, but the troublesome girl even dared to commit such a crime in a territory that everyone knew to be his.
Sylvain's hooded gaze shifted back to the wall of surveillance monitors, three of which had been programmed to follow her movements.
A young woman with dark hair; her height and looks, nothing out of the ordinary. But because she had made the mistake of entering his lair, her life would soon be the opposite.
"How long has she been here?" he questioned his security chief.
"Exactly thirty-two minutes, monsieur," Noel replied. That his master didn't specify a name was the only clue he needed. La fille was special, her existence as Viktor Biancardi's half-sister best kept secret, for her sake.
"And what has she done during that time?"
"If I were to hazard a guess," Noel said thoughtfully, "la fille has already marked three potential targets."
"Let's see what she'll do then."
Sylvain and Noel left the security room, moving down a cavernous passageway carved from the ancient limestone of Paris's famed catacombs. The corridor opened into the main hall of Le Dernier—Sylvain's underground palace of pleasure and danger.
The club sprawled beneath the streets of Paris like a secret kingdom. Centuries-old stone arches framed the massive space, their rough-hewn surfaces juxtaposed with gleaming chrome fixtures and state-of-the-art lighting. Crystal chandeliers hung alongside industrial steel beams, the marriage of opulence and urban decay creating a disorienting yet seductive atmosphere.
The dance floor pulsed with bodies moving to music that seemed to emerge from the walls themselves. Private alcoves lined the periphery, each one shrouded in velvet curtains the color of dried blood. Patrons sipped from crystal flutes containing liquids worth more than most people earned in a month. Beautiful servers in tailored black uniforms navigated the crowd with practiced precision, their faces carefully blank, eyes forward, trained never to linger on conversations not meant for their ears.
Armed guards stood at strategic points throughout the venue, their presence both warning and promise. Come if you dare. Obey and dance to see another night. Defy and tomorrow shall never come.
A table on the mezzanine reserved for Sylvain's exclusive use awaited him. It overlooked the dance floor behind glass walls, and his staff had everything ready when he arrived.
His favorite drink. His weapon of choice, should the occasion call for it. And his view of the entire club unobstructed, if all he wished to do was observe.
All this, without Sylvain having to say a word, his empire functioning with the precision of a Swiss timepiece.
"Monsieur?" Noel had received a call from the concierge. "The Minister of Finance wishes to speak to you."
"I'll call him tomorrow."
"Compris, monsieur." That his master did not place any importance in speaking to government officials was none of his business. No one questioned Sylvain, not if they wished to remain in his orbit.
Sylvain's attention returned to la fille. To see her in the flesh, at work, was enthralling. The man she was speaking to was one of Paris's wealthiest industrialists, but her manner toward him was a mesmerizing mix of confidence and charm, with not a hint of cunning or greed...even if Sylvain had just witnessed her steal the man's watch in the blink of an eye.
Mauvais coup, ma jolie. Wrong move, my lovely.
He continued to study her in silence even when her actions had already sealed her fate. Her dress was cheap yet well-chosen, highlighting curves that the camera had failed to capture. Her hair fell in dark waves past her shoulders, catching blue highlights from the ambient lighting.
But it was her eyes, however...
Even from this distance, her dark blue eyes enslaved. Sylvain was used to seeing euro signs in most women's eyes. But in Liana's, even when she proved to be the most proficient pickpocket, all he saw was intelligence and cleverness. Strategic without being calculating. Pragmatic without being ruthless. Innocent despite her lawless ways.
C'est intriguant. How intriguing.
Sylvain watched as she moved to another target, this time touching the man's arm, her fingers lingering just long enough to establish connection while her other hand drifted casually near his wrist. Where his watch would be.