Boxed Set: At the Billionaire’s Command – Vol. 1-3

He's handsome, he's powerful, he's a billionaire!
Mr Diamonds, an even more fascinating man than his name suggests, seduces young, pretty Amandine and introduces her to a decadent and mysterious world full of luxury, pleasure and above all, sensual and insatiable encounters...
A warning, the doors of desire are open, it's up to us to follow where they'll lead...

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The world is divided between mortals and vampires. Society seems to have adapted to the coexistence of the two species, but doubts persist.
One night, a big sedan comes careening down the road and runs over Héloïse, a 22-year old woman. The man who steps out is obviously in a hurry. He picks her up and carries her to the car. This man is Gabriel, a gorgeous, mysterious vampire. Héloïse is going to have to stay at his house until the next new moon, 27 days later.
Sienna Lloyd describes their sensual and fascinating relationship with eloquence. A troubling, enchanting book at the crossroads between Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey!

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Liz is young and beautiful, Sacha is seductive and filthy rich. Maybe they're not destined to be together, but their affair is red hot! Just how far is Liz willing to go to follow her fascinating new lover? And what does Sacha really want from here?
Enter the extraordinary world of Lisa Swann's new saga...will Liz succumb to the lure of luxury and pleasure? Will Sacha be able to satisfy the burning desire of this young woman?

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Emma Maugham moves to Paris to study...At least, that's what she thinks when she moves into the little attic apartment in a building owned by the mysterious multimillionaire Charles Delmonte.
Like a magnet, subjected to an uncontrollable attraction and then a sudden separation, Emma discovers the sensuality of an sensual relationship in the arms of the young and handsome Charles...but where is this going to lead?
A Possessive Billionaire is the most sensational sensual novel to have been released since Fifty Shades of Grey.

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Certain journeys are only made thanks to a dream. One night, I dreamt I was walking through Central Park as if it were the garden of my childhood, wandering around the exhibition rooms of the MOMA as if I knew them by heart. Manhattan seemed so familiar and so real to me that it triggered something in my head. When I woke up, I made the decision to fly off to New York. For such a shy, young, provincial girl – who'd never travelled further than London on a school trip in ninth grade – it was a big leap. But I knew I needed to do it. I needed to plunge into the unknown, to learn to stand on my own two feet, to gain self-confidence.

I was thinking about my departure and everything I’d done since, as I sat behind the desk in the lobby of the luxury hotel where I had found a job as a receptionist nearly six months ago. My contract was due to end in two weeks and the prospect of returning home filled me with a combination of nostalgia and enthusiasm. There was no doubt that this trip had transformed me. New York had swept me away. I had walked its streets, visited its museums and readily immersed myself in its odours, its sounds, its rhythms, its faces and its images. Here, I was someone else, far away from the people, things and thoughts which composed my life in France. I had discovered unimagined resources within myself.

Suddenly I stood up; I'd just heard the muffled sound of the revolving door starting up. I turned my head towards the entrance, but was still preoccupied enough to keep the pencil that I was holding between my thumb and index finger in the corner of my mouth, chewing on it unthinkingly. Four people, all dressed in perfectly tailored black suits, entered the lobby, followed by two trolleys packed so high with luggage of all sizes that I could hardly see the bellboys who were pushing them.

As the group made its way towards the lifts, one of the men broke away and walked athletically towards me. Wide-angle view: he was tall and slender, his build masculine yet graceful at the same time. There was something rather feline about the way he moved. Everything about the way he carried himself was imbued with effortlessness, agility and elegant power. This body coming towards me acted like a magnet; I felt attracted to him, but could not move a muscle. The frame was shrinking. How old could he be? I couldn’t say. The few lines in the corners of his eyes and lips seems to be less signs of age and more expression lines. The small dimple on his chin conferred on his face the seal of eternal youth. His complexion had the pallor of a matte skin which has not yet been kissed by the sun. His brown hair was unkempt, but with a controlled elegance. His prominent cheekbones and his large, slim nose, lent his face a rather noble air. The complete look, a combination of strength and finesse, had a fascinating harmony. Close-up: he was now less than a metre away from me. I noticed a glimmer of gold in the green of his eyes, eyes which penetrated my heart like daggers. His smile lit up his whole face. I had to smile too, and welcome him to the hotel, but I remained silent, hypnotised by the beauty of this man.

"Julia?"
He pronounced my name in the French way. The noise of the pencil hitting the counter made me jump and brought me back to my senses. My mouth was already half-open and I completed the picture by blushing…

"Julia Belmont. It’s written on your badge."
Did he really take my idiotic look for surprise or was he trying to put me at ease? I absolutely had to say something. I stammered:

"I’m sorry, Sir. You're Mr...?"

"Daniel Wietermann. Suite 607 and adjoining rooms", he said calmly.
Check the register, ask for identification, find the key… I seemed to have forgotten these gestures, although they had become so familiar to me; it was as if I had just parachuted in behind the reception desk. I tried to drag my eyes away from the man, in order to not completely lose my mind. But with my feeble voice and tentative actions, I felt as if my body was betraying me.

"May I have your identification and that of the people accompanying you, please?"

"Here you are," he said, placing four passports on the counter.

"Thank you. If you could also fill out this form…"

"Of course. Anything to make you happy…"
Did he realise the destabilising effect he was having on me? Was he trying to make a joke to relax me, or was he mocking my incompetence? Who knows? Nevertheless, he continued to stare at me with his devastating smile and I felt physically nailed to the spot. Once the formalities were done, I took the keys from the rack. When I handed them to him, he covered my hand with his, lingered and then carefully took the keys. The effect was immediate and bewitching: a wave of heat washed over me, slight tingles ran up and down my body and into my groin. I tried to hide my turmoil despite my panicked breathing.

"Enjoy your stay, Mr Wietermann."

"I am sure I will, Miss Belmont," he said, as he walked away.

I went from stupor to excitement. As soon as he was in the lift, I pounced on his registration file:
“Nationality: French”, “Age: thirty-three”, “Reservation: ten days”
. That was all. I knew nothing about this man. I had only seen him for a few minutes. A few minutes which had been enough to make me feel agitated, a sensation which was all the more troubling in that it was new and it would not go away. His last sentence, said with a mysterious, amused and mischievous little smile, undoubtedly didn’t have anything to do with me at all, but to me it sounded like an invitation. As crazy as that might seem, I think that at that moment I could have followed the man anywhere. If the simple touch of his hand on mine produced such sensations, what would be the effect of his caresses on my neck, on my shoulders, on my stomach, on my lower back…? The brushing of his hand was like a foretaste of pleasures to come, I told myself. I closed my eyes. The soft heat and the tingling feeling returned.