“Men!” I huff, throwing my arms up. “It was nice to meet some of you,” I tell the few guys who are looking at the scene before them with wide eyes, and then I spin, walking away from the whole lot of them.

  Behind me, I hear Simon tell the guys good-bye, and then he catches up to my side, falling in step as he pulls his shirt back on. “I am so sorry. I didn’t expect it to . . . I thought it would be good for both you and them.”

  “I know enough Spanish, and listening to Beatrice for a week teaches you that Spanish culo and French cul mean the same thing,” I tell him. “I’ve heard worse, I’m sure. But that was ridiculous.” I’m angry at Tristan and at Simon.

  “Not that it matters, but Tristan is weeks away from eighteen. Almost an adult, no longer a child. That’s what scares me,” he admits quietly.

  I glance at him, seeing the worry weighing on him. Sensing my openness to hearing him, he confides, “Tristan has so much anger. He is one of the boys here who has a juvenile record, and I fear he’ll have an adult one soon. He has so much to work through, and I’ve tried to be there for him, but he’s not always receptive. It’s as though he only understands brute force. I guess I’ve failed him in the end.”

  Simon looks haunted by the future he envisions for Tristan, and I know he’s thinking it just as easily could’ve been him.

  I stop, taking his hand. “Hey, you’ve done what you can. He still has to want to get better. The other boys seem to respond to you positively.”

  He nods, seeming unconvinced. “I can still do more. It's why we have the charity event coming up at the House. Every euro helps, but a million helps even more. Five million would be even better.”

  He looks around the grounds as we begin to walk again, heading back toward the main building. I wonder what potential he sees here. Beyond the kids, if there were more money, could they update the building or serve more kids?

  “What charity event?” I ask. “I haven’t heard anything about it.”

  “Mon Dieu, that would be perfect,” he exclaims suddenly, making me jump. “One night out of the workroom, but it would be invaluable for the House as well as the designers.”

  He’s talking to himself, but I catch that he wants the Sisterhood of the Sewing Pants to take a night off for an event. “What?”

  “We have a charity event coming up. I’ll have to discuss it with Jacqueline first because it’s a gala, with the highest of society attending to see and be seen, but it would be perfect to highlight the competition’s designers. There’s an auction of donated pieces and vintage House Corbin pieces, even some of Jacqueline’s personal pieces, and the funds are donated to the orphanage.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing. You are doing so much for the boys here,” I tell him, touched. I wonder if anyone else knows Simon’s personal connection with this cause and the way he gives his all, especially to those boys.

  “I was one of the boys here. For a short period compared to some of them, but it just as easily could’ve been me fighting with anyone who offered hope because there is nothing scarier than losing hope . . . the second time.”

  We’ve made it back to the building, and he pauses at the steps. “This is where my mother left me. Or so I’ve been told. I don’t have any memories of her or know what happened, and Jacqueline refuses to discuss it. Part of me wishes it was something tragic because if she wanted to come back for me but couldn’t, then it wasn’t . . . me. Otherwise, there’s the chance she simply couldn’t handle me and is now out there, happily living her own life. And I wonder if that’s the case, does she have children? Does she think of me? It’s too painful to consider that.”

  Simon goes quiet, sitting on the steps with his arms resting on his spread knees and his head hanging.

  “I’m so sorry,” I tell him, sitting down next to him. I press a kiss to his shoulder then rest my head there.

  He swallows thickly. “I am one of the most fortunate. But all of my aunt’s money cannot make up for the feeling . . . here.” Simon pats his chest over his heart. “Money does little to make up for abandonment issues.”

  There are no words to describe how I feel. Now, more than ever, I understand Simon and the depth he has inside. The soul that rests in his chest. He’s so much more than just a pretty face.

  And something tells me that I’ve been shown a secret only a handful of people know. Simon’s let me in closer than almost anyone, and while there’s pain in my heart for the tragic past he’s had . . . I also feel honored by his sharing it with me.

  “Thank you for bringing me here,” I whisper. “For showing me your heart.”

  We look over the grounds of the orphanage silently. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I’m imagining a toddler version of Simon running across the patchy grass. I’m not even sure how old he was when he was here—an infant, a toddler, a young boy—but in my mind, a sweet, innocent Simon runs toward the front of the property, looking for his mother. The mother who never came back.

  After a bit, Simon hums, the tone of our conversation changing with the sound and the light in his eyes as he looks over at me. “There is still more I can show you, if you want.”

  I don’t think. I leap, figuratively speaking. “I want to learn about Paris. I want to learn about you. I want to learn about everything.”

  Simon takes my hand, pulling me to my feet. He presses a kiss to the top of my head as he wraps his arms around me. “Then let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 16

  SIMON

  Night has fallen, Paris lighting up as she does while I drive with Autumn back through the city, heading to the northern districts of the city. Autumn’s been quiet, and I think she is still absorbing what she’s seen in me today.

  To be honest, I need the quiet too because the revelations aren’t over, and I’m trembling inside at the amount of trust I’m placing in Autumn. Because while I don’t expect Autumn to believe me, I’ve never let anyone see all that Autumn’s getting to see.

  I take her to my apartment, wanting more of her, of what this day’s meant to me.

  She follows me upstairs easily, and when I open the door, she’s prepped for the incoming Xerxes attack, but he swirls around and through our feet, almost catlike, though he still barks unhappily, jealous over having to share me with Autumn again. To her credit, Autumn tries with my grumpy guy. She holds out her hand to let Xerxes sniff her, but instead he growls.

  “Rotten mutt,” I tell him, knowing he is neither. “Let me put him away so we won’t be disturbed.”

  Autumn laughs. “Is that a nice way of saying ‘so he doesn’t try to eat my face off’?”

  “Perhaps,” I answer, picking up my cockblocking beast. I go down the hall, putting Xerxes to bed in the guest room. He has a fluffy bed on the floor but prefers the pillows on the bed, and I’ve never found a reason to stop him, so I tuck him in. “Be a good boy. Daddy likes her, and if you run her off, I’m going to be mad. It’ll be all dry dog food and no biscuits for you.”

  He whines, but when I pause at the door, he flops his head down and closes his eyes. Smiling at his dramatics, I close the door quietly.

  In the living room, Autumn looks comfortable on my couch, her shoes kicked off and her legs curled up. I like it. I like it a lot. Which is unusual. I don’t bring people, especially women, here. Here, I can let all the façades drop away and be myself, not a model, executive, or whatever rich boy stereotype people expect from me.

  Keeping this space sacred is part of the reason Xerxes reacts so vehemently to a stranger coming in. But Autumn has been here twice now, and both times, it feels . . . right to me.

  I grab two glasses of white wine from the kitchen as she watches with a soft smile. “It was good to see you like that. To learn about you,” she calls out.

  Coming into the living room, I offer her one of the glasses and she takes a sip. “I’m glad you think so because I was afraid that I’d run you off. I’m more than a little dinged and damaged under the pretty exterior.”

  She tilts her head, eyeing me warmly. “Some things are meant to be perfect, like that car of yours. A scratch on it would be enough to make most men cry. But people? I think they’re meant to be imperfect. It gives us character, keeps us from being robots.”

  “Keeps us interesting,” I interject, smiling at her positive take on my deepest secret.

  “Something like that.” She takes another sip of her wine and then sets it down on the coffee table. “Look, Simon . . .” Though she starts the sentence, she doesn’t seem sure of what she wants to say because she stops abruptly.

  “Uh-oh. Is this the part where you tell me it’s been fun?” I tease, reasonably sure that’s not at all what’s on her mind.

  “It has been, but it’s also . . . dangerous, in a way. With the competition, I was already worried, but with you on the judging panel now, the risks are exponentially higher. I want to do my best work and don’t want any whispers about insider secrets, feedback, or favoritism.”

  She looks at me expectantly, and I mime locking my mouth and throwing away the key. But then I speak out of the side of my mouth. “I wouldn’t tell you what the judges said, anyway. You’d want to win fair and square.”

  She suddenly sits up with her legs beneath her, her ass on her heels. “You think I have a shot at winning?”

  I can’t help but laugh, especially when she throws her hands over my shoulders and shakes me wildly. Her smile is wide and full of hope. “Oh, my God, I might win this thing!”

  “I didn’t say that. You did,” I warn lightly. When her eyes meet mine, I cup her jaw in my hands and press my lips to hers, wanting to taste her joy. It’s been so long since I’ve felt something that bright, and I want to experience it, if only secondhand.

  Her lips are warm and soft, yielding beneath me. But as the kiss deepens, her hands go to my chest and she pushes me back onto the couch, following to lie over me. My hands trace down her sides to her ass, grabbing twin handfuls of the lushness beneath her shorts. She bucks her hips, her mound rubbing along the ridge of my cock.

  “Merde,” I murmur against her mouth. I guide her hips so she does it again, delighting in her answering moan.

  Instead of continuing, she stops, her hands on my chest becoming a push to add space between us and not a pull to get closer. “Simon . . . wait.”

  I freeze, looking into her eyes and seeing worry. “Autumn?”

  She licks her lips, “This can’t . . . it can’t be casual. I want you, but the competition . . .”

  Her words trail off, but I understand. “This hasn’t been casual for me since the beginning. I’ve made that clear, Princesse. Even busting into my meeting in a crazy costume, I was intrigued by you. And ever since, I’ve only been more captivated.” I take a slow breath, willing my cock to hear me. “If you want to wait until after the competition, we can do that. I’m not going anywhere. We have forever. It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

  Autumn blinks slowly, searching my face, but I’d bet she’s searching her heart as well. I want this, want her, but I won’t push her. I need her to choose me and choose when we go further. She’s in control, for now.

  Slowly, she kisses me in answer. And we ignite.

  Carefully, I get to my feet, helping Autumn up before picking her up in my arms. Her legs wrap tightly around my waist as I carry her to my bedroom. Laying her down on the edge of the bed, I take a moment to memorize the vision of her red hair and fair skin spread out luxuriously.

  “Beautiful,” I whisper, and she smiles in response.

  Standing between her spread legs, I lean over her, one hand by her head, and take her hand, guiding it down between us until she can feel my hard shaft behind my zipper. My eyes fall closed as she strokes me up and down.

  “More,” she demands.

  Reaching over my head, I pull my T-shirt off and drop it to the floor, and Autumn undoes my jeans. I drop them down my thighs, letting her look her fill as she grips me once more.

  She giggles lightly.

  I glare at her. “Pardon?”

  Autumn’s eyes dance as she sits up from the bed, putting my cock close to her belly as she continues to stroke me. “I didn’t forget how big you are, but it just occurred to me that you’re walking around Paris with an Eiffel Tower attached to you.”

  I want to stay offended, but being compared to one of the largest structures in the world does strange things to my male ego. “You want to take a trip to the top?” I tease.

  “It’s always been a dream of mine,” she admits.

  I pull her shirt over her head and make quick work of removing her bra. Cupping her breasts, my thumbs find her nipples which are already stiff peaks. I circle them firmly, testing her response, and when she arches for more, I pinch them. Autumn hisses in pleasure, and I need more of her.

  I guide her back to the bed, pulling her shorts down her legs and removing her undies at the same time. I push her legs back, her knees near her shoulders, and gaze upon her silky folds. “I can’t wait to drink you down again.”

  “Do it,” she says. She holds her legs up, freeing my hands to pleasure her, and I spread her lower lips obscenely.

  Dipping my tongue into her entrance, I groan at her sweetness. Lapping at her, I focus on her clit as I slide two fingers in. Her walls grip my fingers as I fuck her, slow and deep as she opens for me.

  Autumn cries out, and I speed up my thrusts, wanting to take her higher and higher. Her juices coat my fingers and my cock jerks in need. Putting the flats of my fingers over her entire pussy, I swipe back and forth quickly, overwhelming her with pleasure until her moisture flows.

  “Yes, yes . . . yes!”

  I help her ride out the ecstasy as long as possible, her enjoyment making me leak precum. When she finally comes down, panting and letting go of her legs, only then do I shove my jeans the rest of the way off.

  I climb up on the bed, looming over her. She reaches for me, her hands on my hips telling me exactly where she wants me. Lining up with her entrance, I push in slowly, and we both groan.

  I give her a moment to adjust, to feel me stretch her, but the sensation of her velvety grip on my manhood ignites the animal passions inside me that I’ve held back for so long. In moments, I push forward more, sinking every bit of myself into her until we’re pressed together tightly.

  “Oh, my beautiful Princesse,” I say, but then I slip into French as I pull back and thrust again. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, your pussy stuffed fuller than you’ve ever felt before. And after you come all over me, searing my name into your soul, I’m going to fill you with my hot cum . . . you’re going to be mine.”

  “Yes,” Autumn moans, even though she can’t possibly understand everything I’m saying. She just feels my hips driving into her, the thickness of my cock, the power of my thrusts as I give her pleasure in a whole new way. “Yes.”

  I grab her wrists, pinning them above her head as I speed up, holding her helpless as I take and give from her perfect body. My bed moves, slapping against the walls so hard that I’m sure my new neighbors below who only just moved in can hear her cries and the thumping of my bed.

  It’s quite the welcome to the building, but I don’t care. I have Autumn in my bed, impaled beneath me, and in so much ecstasy that I’m barely able to contain myself from exploding inside her and claiming her as mine forever now.

  “Give in to me,” I grunt in her ear. “Tell me who is giving you such pleasure.”

  “Simon, Simon . . . oh, God, Sss—”

  She tries to keep saying my name, but it turns in a hiss and then into whimpers with every fierce drive I make.

  I’m panting, growling every dirty thought that’s ever crossed my mind, telling her how I’m going to fuck her mouth, her pussy, her luscious, tight ass, and more. Autumn takes it all until we both feel my cock swelling even more.

  With a final primal roar, I explode, my balls drawing up as I pulse deep inside her with the hardest, most intense orgasm of my life. Autumn howls, her mouth coming up to fasten onto my shoulder as, instead of biting the pillow, she bites me, intensifying my climax as pain and pleasure overwhelm my body.

  When it’s over, near silence reigns, only our gasping breaths breaking the quiet.

  Slowly, I soften, withdrawing from her and slipping out. Carefully, protecting her exhausted body, I get out of bed and go to the bathroom where I use a warm washcloth to wipe myself down before checking my shoulder. I’m bruised . . . but she didn’t break skin.

  “Do you need a rabies shot?” Autumn asks sleepily as I come back with another washcloth and carefully start wiping her body down.

  “No, Princesse,” I assure her. “Are you . . . hurt?”

  “Fuck no,” she answers, shivering happily when the warm cloth rubs over her inner thighs. “That was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard.”

  Seeming drunk on pleasure, she begins to giggle. I lie down, pulling Autumn into me, her back to my front with my arms wrapped around her like she might try to escape me.

  Wiggling her ass against my now soft cock, she asks, “Am I the little spoon to your big spoon?”

  I growl into her ear, “You’re the perfect spoon for me to grip and grind and rut into. And then curl around for what I expect will be a great night of sleep for us both.”

  “Is Xerxes okay in the other room?”

  That she worries about my dog when all he’s done is be rude to her tells me a lot about Autumn. “He’s fine. He, uh . . .” When she looks over her shoulder at me, I confess, “He’s lying in the guest bed, tucked in on the pillows as though they’re a nest.”

  She stares at me for a second, trying to decide whether I’m joking or not, and then laughs. “Of course he is. Lucky dog.”

  “Eh, I consider myself lucky that he chose me. We’re kindred spirits, though he’s perhaps not as charming as I am?”

  Autumn mock-glares at me. “Are you fishing for more compliments after I told you that your dick reminded me of the Eiffel Tower?” When I don’t deny her charges, she answers, “He’s definitely not as charming as you, though you’re losing points by the second.” The warning is accompanied by a big yawn that she rushes to cover with her hand.