Bound by the Millionaire's Ring

By: Dani Collins

The playboy’s temporary fiancée

Millionaire racing driver Ramon Sauveterre is no stranger to fame, but he’ll do just about anything to keep the spotlight off his family. Including propose a decidedly short-term engagement to his gorgeous head of PR, Isidora Garcia!

Isidora cannot forgive Ramon for dragging her into this farce—just as she’ll never forgive him for the indiscretion that broke her heart. But while their relationship might be fake, the burning longing his kisses spark is all too real—and resisting Ramon’s heated touch until the end of their arrangement proves utterly impossible...

“The truth is, I’ve discovered something for which I feel more passion than racing,” Ramon announced in a firm voice.

“Hard to believe, is it not? Racing has been my life for over a decade, but with my brother so happily married and starting his family I find I can’t wait to enjoy the same. I’m deeply in love and, well…”

He moved around Isidora so he was no longer behind the podium and sank to one knee beside her.

A massive gasp went through the crowd.

The cacophony of flashes and clicks increased, but the shouting of questions ceased. An eerie expectancy characterized the wordless explosion of repeated shutter-click-flash. The lights strobed against his skin as he looked up at Isidora’s incredulous expression.

She paled as comprehension dawned. Her eyes showed white around her gray irises. One hand came to her mouth and she might have said “Don’t you dare.”

“You said if I quit racing you would marry me. So, mi corazón. Now will you make me the happiest man on earth?”


ISIDORA GARCIA DIDN’T glance up as her boss entered her office. She recognized him in her periphery and was only a little surprised he was here in Paris. He was a new father, but when there was a crisis with one of his sisters, particularly Trella, he waded in without hesitation.

“I just saw it,” she assured him. “I’m emailing—”

She cut herself off as preternatural knowledge struck. Her body tingled and her skin felt stroked. Her fingers became clumsy while her blood grew hot and thick in her veins.

She didn’t have to look up to know that was not Henri Sauveterre advancing on her. It was his twin, Ramon.

A flash of intense vulnerability went through her. Treachery. Anguish.

She clamped down on the rush of emotion, hiding it behind a falsely cool lift of her gaze to the man who looked identical to the one who had arm-twisted her into taking this position. They were both ruthless in their own way, but at least Henri wasn’t cruel.

“I didn’t know you were in Paris.” Her voice came out steady enough to hide the tightness that invaded her throat.

Like Henri, Ramon’s dark hair was cut short, but had a tendency to spike on top. His clean-shaven, spectacularly handsome features were sophisticated without being pretty, angular without being rugged. His Sauveterre eyes were green when they were amused and gray when they were not.

His irises were somewhere between slate and ash this morning, making a knot of tension coil in the pit of her stomach. His sensuous mouth sat in a flat line. His honed physique flexed beneath his tailored suit as he set his hands on her desk, leaning in to confront her.

“Why aren’t you doing your job?”

His lethal tone cut her in half, sending a burst of adrenaline through her.

Oh, she hated herself for still being sensitive to his every word. Him, with his superiority, and opportunistic streak, and complete lack of conscience. She wanted to hate him. Did hate him. But she remained susceptible. In fact, it was worse, now that she knew how brutal he could be. At least when she’d been young and stupid, she hadn’t feared him.

She took a firm grip on herself and tried to hide her dread by casually looking back at her screen. She couldn’t absorb what she’d been writing. She waved at her keyboard, aiming for nonchalance. “I’m doing it now. If you weren’t interrupting me, I could get on with it.”

She managed to sound composed and begged her hand to stay steady. She didn’t want to reveal the fine trembles that worked upward from a deep, inner flutter in the pit of her stomach.

Because even with hatred and fear gripping her, she found him utterly compelling.

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