“One month. Of pleasure.” Michael pushed his glass across the table. It connected with the base of the heavy silver candleholder with a crystal ring of finality. “I will do anything you wish. However many times you wish it.”

“That is what I am paying you for, Monsieur des Anges.”

Anne Aimes had newly come to her wealth. She had yet to realize that money did not control men. Sex controlled men. Vengeance controlled men. Money merely made it possible to act upon the two disparate needs.

A smile twisted his lips. “I assure you, chérie, I will not forget what it is you are paying for.”

​

Death. Desire.

​

It had come full circle...