The Prince I Love to Hate: A Steamy Romantic Comedy (The Heir Affair Book 1) by Iris Morland (learn to read books TXT) 📗

Was it full of diamonds or something? Maybe it contained the key to some safe that was filled with gemstones. Or cocaine. Knowing my luck, it was probably full of cocaine.

“Okay,” I said slowly. I handed him back the paper. “Why do you think my grandda has—had—this clock?”

“I can’t divulge that information.”

He said it so haughtily that I was tempted to hit him with my book a second time, but I refrained. I needed him conscious at this moment in time. Mostly, though, I had a feeling this Golden Man who’d randomly showed up in my grandda’s library and who was looking for the exact same thing I was searching for was such an insane coincidence that I knew it couldn’t be entirely a coincidence.

There was something about this clock that was more important than it being a family heirloom. What, exactly, I couldn’t begin to guess.

“Well, my grandda is dead.” I waved a hand. “And I haven’t seen that clock anywhere in this house.” Olivier didn’t know that this was my first visit—probably. Hopefully.

“Yes, I realized that when I first arrived.” Olivier steepled his fingers, his fingers long, his nails perfectly filed. Strange, for someone who supposedly worked with plants and dirt all day.

I knew in that moment I had two choices: I could keep the small nugget of information that I had about the clock in question—that my father was the one who had it—to myself. Or I could use it as a way to get Olivier to share his information.

I could hear my brother Liam’s voice in my head. Don’t show your cards too soon. Let the other person wait. Sometimes patience is all that stands between you and victory, even if the chips are down.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that you’re not, in fact, a gardener.”

Olivier looked at this steepled hands and grinned. “Guilty as charged. I got a job here on false pretenses, I admit it. I wanted to find out any information I could. Unfortunately, the one person who could’ve given me any information is dead.” He shot me a look. “My condolences, of course.”

“I didn’t know him. Apparently, everybody who knew him hated him. My brother practically threw a party when we found out he’d died.”

Olivier choked back a laugh, coughing into his fist to cover it. “Then I retract my condolences.” His gaze went distant as he added, “This clock, though. It’s extremely important to my family, to my mother especially. I promised her that I would find it for her.” Something shadowy crossed over his face when he said those words, which, annoyingly enough, made him seem less of a fallen angel and more of an actual human being.

“It’s funny that you’re searching for this clock,” I said slowly, “because I’m also looking for it. Although for a different reason.”

Olivier’s gaze landed on me, hard. “You know about it? How?”

“I’m not at leisure to disclose my sources,” I said sweetly.

He looked at me for a longer moment, as if trying to understand my motives. I wasn’t entirely certain of my own motives, beyond knowing that if this man was the key to finding my father, I’d use this opportunity, regardless of the consequences.

“I have a feeling you know what this all means,” I said.

Olivier leaned back in his chair. “Do I?”

“Do I really need to say something straight out of The Godfather? ‘I have a proposition you can’t refuse.’”

“As long as I don’t have a horse head in my bed in the morning, then I’ll hear this proposition.” His lips quirked. “I always enjoy women propositioning me.”

I wanted to dunk his face in the nearest flower arrangement. “Keep your pants on, dude. I know who owns this clock you want, and if you agree to help me—help us—find it, I won’t call the police and press charges for trespassing.”

“You don’t know if I have any more useful information,” he pointed out.

“Then we’ll go our separate ways and never think about the other person again.”

Olivier considered me, stroking his bottom lip as he did so. It was strangely sensual, making heat curl in my belly. I barely restrained myself from squirming in my seat.

Look, I wasn’t some naive virgin. I’d had sex. Okay, I could count on my hand how many times I’d had sex, but it had happened. So I was hardly some desperate idiot who’d fall at the feet of a man so handsome it made me want to light myself on fire.

I had self-respect. I had my pride.

But, apparently, my body didn’t give two shits about pride. He’s yummy yummy yummy yummy and you should jump on that ASAP. Get down and dirty for once, girl!

“Let me think about this proposition,” said Olivier. “We can reconvene at nine AM tomorrow.” He glanced at his watch. “Or today, rather.”

“Fine by me.” I stood up, and right then, I could feel exhaustion making my bones practically melt. I yawned, blushing at how loud the sound was.

Olivier stood as well. We stared at each other for a long moment, and time seemed to stretch like a rubber band. Where most people would look away, Olivier continued to study me, like I was some strange specimen he’d never encountered before. It was unsettling.

I picked up the book of poetry and used it like a shield. “I need to go to bed,” I said lamely.

Olivier, though, had placed his arm over my head, caging me in rather effectively against the bookshelf behind me. “Yes, you probably should, mademoiselle.”

I could feel his heated breath on my face. If someone doused us in water right this second, I was pretty sure it would turn to steam. My heart pounding, I ducked under his arm and headed back to my room without another word. I heard him chuckle at my retreating figure, which only made me hate him more.

Chapter Six

The following morning, I woke up just as the sun was coming up. I never woke up this early, but I