[Invitation to Eden 24.0] How to Tempt a Tycoon Read Free Page A

Christophe sets a pile of chips on the line between number twenty-two and twenty-three. The ball bounces a few more times before landing in the twenty-two slot. I don’t need to know much about the game to know he’s just won big. I try to do my best to emulate those around me and to look bored about the fact that he’s now got a zillion times more chips than he had before.
    The bastard.
    Okay, I may be gritting my teeth...a teeny bit.
    But, I’m no sissy when it comes to men like Christophe Chevalier. The fact I am uber aware of his presence makes me want to prove how much his presence does not affect me. So we continue to play—side-by-side, but in silence at least, thank God—me always making safe bets, for some reason winning more often than losing while Christophe continues to make risky bets, losing more often than winning.
    However, when he wins, he wins big.
    Jerk.
    “Interesting choice,” he says, after I’ve placed my chips on the M12 position, hoping for the ball to drop in the middle dozen numbers.
    “Thank-you,” I say. Not exactly sure why.
    He waits for the croupier to spin the ball before calling, “Dix-sept complet.” Then he pushes an enormous pile of chips onto the table.
    The croupier repeats Christophe’s wager and then places a special marker on number seventeen on the table. He gives that French nod to the table inspector who counts the chips—forty blue chips, I know this because I count along with him.
    Blue chips are ten thousand euros. Forty chips means four hundred thousand euros.
    Holy shit.
    My curiosity gets the better of me. “What does dix-sept complet mean?”
    Christophe steps closer so he can speak softly in my ear. It tickles—in a nice way.
    Dammit!
    “It is every inside bet that involves the number seventeen. Straight-up, four splits, a street, four corners two six-lines. I placed the maximum number of chips for each.”
    The ball continues to bounce and my curiosity is stronger than ever. Almost as strong as Christophe’s aftershave—which I wish was overpowering but isn’t.
    It’s enticing.
    Ugh!
    “What’s the payout?” I ask, breathing in deeply as I lean toward him.
    “If the ball lands on seventeen, the payout is three million nine hundred and twenty thousand euros.”
    I turn slowly. My gaze tracks from the bowtie on his tux up his chiseled jaw to his eyes. They sparkle with amusement.
    Sinful.
    Sexy.
    Too damn sexy for his own good.
    Or for mine.
    “That’s big,” I say a little out of breath.
    He tilts his head, a small smile playing about his full lips.
    My mouth returns the smile without my permission and I spin around to watch the table in order to stop looking and smiling at Christophe.
    The ball pops around the wheel like it’s alive, teasing the players, looking like it will drop into one slot only to bounce out again. Finally, after playing hopscotch in and out of the slots, it makes a decision and falls in the number fourteen.
    For the first time there is some response from the players around the table. People clap politely and smile in Christophe’s direction.
    “We are both winners,” he says matter-of-factly.
    “We are?”
    “Yes.”
    “Monsieur Chevalier, the payout is one hundred and forty-four pieces with your bet down, sir.” The croupier repeats himself in French.
    If I’m not mistaken, that means the payout is over a million euros.
    Holy fucking shit.
    An official looking man comes to speak quietly to Christophe. I would be lying if I said I didn’t try to eavesdrop, but his voice is too low and he’s speaking in French.
    Once the man is finished, Christophe points to his chips and says, “Pour Le Foundation, s’il vous plait.” He turns his attention to me. “If you’ll excuse me, mademoiselle. I have business to attend to.” He takes my hand, kisses it and says, “It was a pleasure playing beside you.”
    With that, Christophe strides away and his chips are cleared by the table inspector. Leaning toward Olivier, I