THE DEEPEST, DARKEST night had settled upon Cannes.
Elsa stood on the balcony of her deluxe suite enjoying the inky blackness. She lifted her second glass of cognac to her lips and took a healthy sip. The heady liquid hit the back of her throat and burned as it went down. She smiled.
So far her time in Cannes had been utterly boring—well, there was that run-in with Sage. That had been slightly amusing. It would have been more fun if the girl had grown a backbone.
Elsa recalled how Sage had always thought the world was made of rainbows and butterflies. Elsa expelled a frustrated sigh. Whoever thought a kind word or smile could open doors? Only Sage. That foolish, foolish girl.
Knock. Knock.
She moved to the door. Her long, silk robe fluttered around her legs as she crossed the room. Elsa yanked the door open to find Mr. Hunter standing there in a dark suit. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, giving her a glimpse of his chest. Not bad. Not bad at all. His hair had been cut and styled. He really was rather handsome.
Why hadn’t she noticed this before? Perhaps the alcohol was skewing her perception or maybe she’d never been so bored and anxious for something to amuse her. Yes, Mr. Hunter just might serve a dual purpose this evening.
But first, they had to get business out of the way.
“What have you learned about my stepdaughter? Has she heeded my warning? Is she leaving?”
“No. She’s still here. And I have learned something very interesting.”
The way he said the words sparked Elsa’s interest. “Is it something I can use against her?”
“I think it is.”
Elsa smiled. This man was getting more attractive by the moment. “Come here and sit with me on the couch.” She sat down and patted a spot next to her. Once he was seated, she leaned in close to him and inhaled his spicy aftershave. Mmm... He smelled divine. Tonight was definitely looking up. She traced a manicured nail over the slight stubble on his cheek, down his neck and then played with the few hairs on his chest—his very firm chest. “What delicious information have you uncovered?”
Hunter cleared his throat. “Well, it appears her assistant isn’t actually her assistant after all. But I don’t think she knows it. In fact, I’m certain she doesn’t.”
Elsa undid a button on his shirt. “If you make this good, I promise you’ll receive a bonus you’ll never forget.”
Hunter’s dark eyes met hers. There was the fire of desire burning in them, which only excited Elsa more. She loved when she could control people, whether it was in the office or in bed.
She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. There was no gentle foreplay. There was hunger. Need. And lust. And he was going to do just fine for scratching her itch.
She pulled back. “Now explain your cryptic remark. Her assistant isn’t really her assistant. How is that possible?”
“For some reason that I don’t understand, the man acting as Sage’s assistant is really Quentin Thomas Rousseau III.”
Elsa leaned back on the couch. Her mind was racing a mile a minute. “And you say Sage doesn’t know his true identity?”
Hunter shook his head. “Not as far as I can tell.”
“Very interesting.” So what was the young Rousseau up to? Was he going to be an asset to her plans? Or had he fallen under Sage’s spell like so many men before him?
“I need all the information you can find about the young Rousseau. Is there anything else I should know about?”
“Actually, Sage just landed a most sought after interview with Starr.”
This news darkened Elsa’s mood. She got to her feet and moved to the drink cart to refill her cognac. She took a mouthful of the fiery liquid and swallowed. Her gaze lifted to the mirror that hung over the drink cart. Elsa stared at her beautiful image. Usually it made her feel better, but not tonight. As she smoothed an errant strand of hair behind her ear, she couldn’t help but think of her stepdaughter. Maybe the girl had grown more of a backbone than she’d originally thought.
“This interview, will it help her magazine?”
Hunter nodded. “Definitely. From what I gather, it should be a cover spot.”
Still holding the glass of cognac, Elsa’s hand tightened around the crystal glass. How dare that worthless girl try and beat her in her own arena. Elsa was the queen of publishing. There was no room for Sage.
Elsa caught her image in the mirror. For a moment, she looked older—second best. Anger pumped through her veins.
Elsa turned to Hunter. “I want you to set up an appointment with the actress before her interview with Sage. I don’t care what she has planned. Tell her to cancel it.”
Hunter’s dark eyes widened as though to complain about not being her secretary. But as though he sensed the danger in disagreeing with her at that moment, he said, “I will go take care of it now.”
“Not yet.” She strode toward him in her stilettos. “I have something else in mind for you.”
She had to do something with all of her pent-up energy or she would explode. When she reached him, she placed a hand behind his head and pulled him down to her lips.
And tomorrow—tomorrow I will deal with Sage. She will not win. Never!