The Wealthy Frenchman's Proposition by Katherine Garbera Read Free Book Online Page B

because she made him feel way more than lust for her sexy little body, which she kept hidden under the ugliest clothing he’d ever seen on a woman.
    Today, dressed in his sister Blanche’s blouse and trousers, she looked…almost beautiful. Actually, the only thing detracting from her beauty were those wounded eyes of hers. She was hurting, and a different man, a man who still had a romantic heart, would soothe her.
    There was a rap on the door. “Mr. Sabina?”
    “Please come in.”
    Mrs. Thonnopulus opened the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but Count de Cuaron y Buatista de la Cruz is here to see you.”
    Gui. He must have seen the paper this morning. And Tristan was glad to have his friend interrupt this situation with Sheri, which was going from bad to worse.
    “Send him in.”
    Less than a minute later Gui strode through the door. Wearing jeans and a designer one-of-a-kind shirt, Gui looked relaxed and casual. Not like the aristocrat he was, but more like the second son he also was.
    “Ms. Donnelly, Tristan, please pardon my unscheduled visit. But I need a word with you, Tris.”
    “About?”
    “A sensitive matter,” Gui said.
    “Does it involve the photos of us in the newspaper?” Sheri asked, all blunt American.
    Tristan wanted to order her from the room so he could have a discussion with Gui without her sarcasm.
    “Indeed. So you’ve already seen the papers.”
    “Paper s? ”
    “Reuters picked up the photo. It’s in every tabloid I’ve been able to put my hands on this morning,” Gui said.
    Sheri started trembling. She turned her back on both men and dropped her head down to her chest. Tristan watched her, knowing she was dealing with the pain and unable to make himself walk across the room and comfort her.
    He’d done enough of that this morning. He needed to keep a distance between them.
    Gui arched one eyebrow at him and nodded toward Sheri. Tristan shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. Gui rolled his eyes and went to Sheri’s side. He wrapped one arm around her shoulder and handed her a snowy-white handkerchief.
    And Tristan saw red. It was that simple. He knew he’d just dismissed her, but he couldn’t stand to see Gui touching Sheri. She was his. His.
    He was across the room before he realized he was moving. He nudged Gui aside and pulled Sheri into his arms. She put her head on his shoulder and he felt the warmth of her tears sinking through the cotton fabric of his shirt.
    A wave of total helplessness swamped him. How was he going to fix this? He’d spent the last eight years since Cecile’s death moving forward, never stopping to answer questions or challenge the paparazzi that followed him and the scandals he wove effortlessly.
    He wrapped his arms around her and held her the way he hadn’t held a woman in eight long years. He held her to give comfort. He felt the shackles he’d tried to wrap around his heart shift.
    He lifted her face to his, aware that Gui had stepped out to the balcony to afford them some privacy at this moment.
    “ Ma petite, stop your tears.”
    “I…Yes, I will. It’s just, I have no idea how to handle this,” she said, sniffling delicately.
    Damn those big doe eyes of hers, he thought. He wiped her cheek with his thumbs, brushed them down her face until the tracks from her tears were completely gone.
    Step away, he told himself. Comfort was one thing, but kissing her now would be the kind of mistake he was too smart to make.
    He’d started to lower his head, wanting to taste her one last time, and she rose on her tiptoes, eyes closing, and leaning into his body. And he knew that for her sake, so that he didn’t hurt her any more than he already had, he couldn’t kiss her.
    So instead he brushed his lips against her forehead and stepped back. He turned away, but not quickly enough to miss the disappointment and hurt on her face.

    Sheri had to get out. When Tristan turned his back and walked to the balcony, where she saw Gui waiting, she