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

ask, “What just happened?”
    “Monsieur Chevalier is the director of Le Foundation Enfants. An organization that helps disabled and sick children. I believe he just donated his winnings.”
    I have to make a conscious effort to close my mouth as I swivel to watch Christophe disappear out the door of the salon. He donated a million dollars. Just like that.
    After giving my head a shake, I say, “Donate my chips as well, please.”
    “Mademoiselle is finished for the evening?”
    “Yes.” I am sooo finished. Christophe’s unexpected donation not only surprised me, it’s endeared me to him. Good lord, that is not a good thing. It is definitely time for a drink.
    Olivier speaks quietly into his headpiece for someone to collect the chips and then follows me as I head over to the bar.
    “I am yours for the evening,” he says. “If you should change your mind and wish to return to the tables, let the bartender know and I shall be at your service.” He executes a similar bow to the one Christophe gave me before disappearing into the back.
    Once Olivier’s gone, I order a scotch on the rocks and wait, my back to the room. Hoping to tell others—and by others, I mean, Christophe Chevalier, should he return—that I’m not interested. Though I must say there’s a teeny tiny part that’s intrigued. Not that I’m about to give in to it or anything.
    As I cool my cheek with the glass, I remind myself that a million dollars is pocket change when your net worth is in the billions. Seriously. Christophe is no more a philanthropist than anyone else in this room. Most of these people are board members of charitable foundations simply to go to parties and fundraisers. Everyone in this room puts on the philanthropist façade in order to network. Christophe is no different. It’s all an act. Surely.
    I’m not fooled. Not for a second.
    Yet my senses thrill when ten minutes later I feel a presence behind me. I know who’s there before I hear him speak. I recognize his expensive aftershave. Not because it’s too strong, but because it’s unique. Subtle. A spicy scent that’s both exotic and intoxicating.
    Shit.
    I am in big trouble.
    Without being invited, Christophe takes the stool next to mine and in French, orders a scotch—neat with a side of water. As it happens, ordering food and drinks is one thing I can do fairly well in more than a few languages because I travel so much for work.
    Not that I want Christophe-fucking-Chevalier to know I speak French.
    He leans toward me and I move equally in the opposite direction.
    He chuckles low in his throat. Well, glad one of us finds this amusing. I would get up and leave except for the fact that I was here first and I feel like being obstinate and standing my ground. Besides, I suspect he’d follow me anyway.
    I know exactly how men like Christophe think. He’s only interested in me because I’m not showing any interest in him. The playing-hard-to-get-game is the most predictable, fucked up animalistic tendency that should have been naturally selected out of humanity eons ago. But it hasn’t. It’s made worse in wealthy, good looking males for some reason. You want to tempt a tycoon? Play hard to get. That’s it. Easy peasy.
    I suppose the reason it works is because wealthy men, like Christophe, are so seldom presented with a challenge and are overly accustomed to being worshipped, basically getting everything they want, when they want it, that when they are denied something—even if it’s something they don’t particularly want—they can’t help but take the bait.
    I’ve seen plenty of women play on this, feigning indifference in order to reel in men like Christophe. Not me. I believe in the philosophy of actually showing true emotions—interest when I’m interested, no interest when I’m not.
    Okay, so I’m a teensy bit interested. But I made a promise to stay disinterested and I fully intend to stick to it.
    When Christophe leans in again, instead of turning