Free The Frenchman (Crime Royalty Romance Book 1) by Lesley Young Page A

off-limits—recalling his latest actions, his need, another rush of lustful anxiety wracked me—the stair climber it was.
    Who does that? Who has the couilles to just walk up to a woman and press his lust on her? A shiver ran down my spine: he was so much more than I could handle.
    I left a note for Marie, in case she got up, letting her know I was down in the gym. Before walking out the door I scrolled through playlists on my iPod. I needed a perky, chaste selection to stave off the cobbled, anxious confusion plaguing me.
    A strange rustling noise outside the door caught my attention. Glancing into the peep hole, I spotted the back of a man’s leather coat disappearing from view. I opened the door, and an envelope jettisoned down to my feet. The man looked back at me, expressionless, before reaching the elevators. Anxiety surged in my gut. I recognized his dark, thick beard. One of Louis’s pit bulls from the club last night.
    I glanced back at the envelope on the ground.
    Fleur it said on the outside. I swallowed, bent down, picked it up and shut the door quickly, locking it, even though the man was clearly not coming back.
    I weighed the envelope in my hand. It was thicker and heavier than if it held just a piece of paper. The penmanship was abrupt.
    In a burst of curiosity, I flipped it over, pried my finger into the flap and ripped it open. Peering inside, my chest squeezed, and everything kind of sank.
    Euros. Lots of them.
    I pulled the wad of colorful notes out. They were wrapped in a smaller piece of paper. I unfolded it, barely breathing.
    Je suis désolé .
    Louis
    He was . . . sorry?
    I looked up, only to see myself in Marie’s foyer mirror. Appalled. Totally appalled, and, I watched my brows pinch severe, my green eyes flash dark, I was angry. Very, very angry.
    He was effectively, I gawked down at the handful of euros, buying his way out of humping me? This was the worst insult yet from him. I mean, that’s what this was, right? Or wait. Was he was paying me for letting him hump me? Or, my heart swooped dangerously low, maybe trying to buy his way into my bed?
    He thought so little of me? That I would what, run to him, and say, “It’s alright, but a full fuck would cost double”? I mean, my God, there was, I shuffled the wad of bills, three thousand euros or more here.
    Enough was enough. Blind, with shock— I mean how dare he send a friend to drop off money to buy me or buy me off, or whichever it was!— I had already reached the elevator, and pressed the penthouse button, cash in one hand, before I even questioned what I was doing.
    Nuh-uh. No way. Adrenaline was coursing through me. He’d insulted me enough. I’d had enough. I wasn’t going to let Louis believe for one second that I’d even thought about taking money from him. I needed to give it back to him right way. Who does that?! Who acts the way he does? Was it because I’m American? Well, he needed a lesson in manners.
    The elevator reached the top floor, and I stepped out into a marble-walled vestibule before the elevator doors had finished opening.
    I never felt so sure, so strong, in my life.
    I halted in front of the only door, and heard the faint noise of television. A sports match. He’s home . I knocked with emotion that should have warranted a loud boom, but it turned out to be a light knock.
    After a moment, when I steeled my resolve, the door opened.
    Not Louis .
    A man with salt and pepper hair, a nasty scar above his lip and astute eyes, scanned me. “ Oui? ” he asked rudely.
    I hesitated, but then thought, I’m all in.
    “ Je suis venue pour voir Louis .”
    He scanned me much more carefully, and his dark eyes stopped at the cash in my hand. After his eyebrows rose, ever so slightly, his face relaxed and a side hitched up. He shrugged and opened the door wider.
    I stepped into another foyer, encased in a marble, circular partition. With one last wave of jacked-up energy, I barreled around the wall, quickly scanning