Toni remained silent through most of the meal and Lucian was relieved. She preened prettily and batted her eyes at the other men. Ironically, this play of flattery outwardly annoyed Jamie, although he quickly hid it.
When the meal was concluded, Lucian felt confident they’d done a good job of firming up their ties. However, he was smart enough to know their work was far from done. Like sex, there would have to be some morning-after cuddling and follow-up throughout the day to prove to their counterparts they were valued and memorable even after the interaction.
Seth would send a well-thought-out thank-you that would trickle down to their subordinates. Quincy would readdress the plans, putting them in a new, shiny light that left the impression of Patras covering every base and ensuring every T was crossed and ass kissed. It was all routine bullshit that came with the game.
Preston even commented on Antoinette’s bracelet, saying his wife would like something similar. Lucian would have Seth send him the gift in the morning.
He took care of the bill and they exited the restaurant together. Once the valet retrieved George’s Mercedes, they shook hands and said good-bye.
Toni let out a breath of air as if the entire evening had been unbearable. “Next time I get mad you don’t include me in business dinners, remind me how boring they are. Jeez, I should have stayed home and watched the Kardashians.”
Dugan arrived with the limo, and the three of them slid onto the seats. As the car jostled, making fast progress to Shamus’s condo, Toni said, “Where’s Evelyn?”
That same question had been in the forefront of his mind all evening. It was tiring, this new position he was taking with her. He didn’t enjoy constantly reining in his temper and his need for control, but he was trying to redevelop the trust he’d lost, and that meant trusting her.
“She had an appointment.” There was no need to make excuses to his little sister about things that were clearly none of her business.
“An appointment where?”
Jamie cut in before he needed to. “Antoinette, mind your own business.”
Toni crossed her arms and huffed. “Whatever.”
Ignoring the irritating lovebirds, Lucian gazed out the window until they reached Jamie’s. When Dugan opened the door he was surprised to see Toni exit the car as well. Nothing like having the visual of his sister being debauched driven home. He gritted his teeth and pretended everything was as it should be, wanting nothing more than to end this evening and find Evelyn.
He wanted to text her, but texting was an issue for them. He couldn’t call until he was alone.
“I’ll see you in the a.m.” Shamus said, leaning into the open door.
Lucian nodded and Dugan shut the door, closing him in welcome, dim silence. When his chauffeur returned to the wheel, Lucian instructed, “Knights Boulevard.”
The limo stealthily merged into traffic and headed in that direction as he pulled out his phone and dialed Evelyn. Her cell rang three times before dumping into her generic voicemail. He frowned and dialed again, only to end at the same result.
Shifting on the soft leather seat, he loosened his tie. This secretiveness was not palatable. As a matter of fact, it was infuriating him more and more with each passing minute. He removed his pocket watch and flipped the antique cover open. Her plans must have concluded by now.
As the limo approached her apartment he immediately caught the illuminated, unadorned window. She needed curtains. Lucian let himself out and faced Dugan on the crippled patch of sidewalk.
“Should I wait, sir?”
As he prepared to answer, something caught his attention. A man, roughly in his late twenties and carrying a leather messenger bag, exited the alley. Both he and Dugan stared as the man stepped from the mouth of the alley, the alley that led only to Evelyn’s door.
A fire snapped to life in his gut as all sorts of insinuating scenarios ran rampant through his mind in a blink of an eye.
“Oh, excuse me,” the man suddenly said, stepping around them, clearly not expecting others to be on the walkway at this late hour. Their presence was likely as surprising as, say, a man exiting Evelyn’s home at such an hour.
They trained their gazes on his progress to the little Toyota parked across the street and, as if reading his mind, Dugan said, “Follow him?”
Lucian’s teeth were clenched so tight it was a wonder his tongue found the space to form words. “Yes.”
His man nodded and returned to the idling limo, making no secret of trailing the Toyota. As he stood on the pavement alone, Lucian collected his wits. A thousand assumptions played devil’s advocate in his mind. When his temper was somewhat under control and he’d waited long enough to discount any perceived coincidental meetings, he entered the alley and knocked on Evelyn’s door. Seeing the newly installed security lights brought him comfort, but he made a mental note to have the landlord agree to security cameras. He’d handle the cost and installation as well as the monitoring feed.
The peephole darkened, followed by the opening of the door. Evelyn appeared surprised to see him. “Lucian.”
“Evelyn. May I come in?” She was wearing a sweatshirt and jeans and her silver eyes appeared weary. What the hell was going on?
She nodded and led the way up the narrow stairs. He was reminded again just how miniscule her chateau was as he ducked under the low-slung ceiling at the top of the steps.
“I wasn’t expecting you.” A small table had been added to her meager collection of furniture. Two chairs. She made quick work of collecting a stack of papers from the surface of the table and stashing them in a cabinet. The paperwork confused him and he regretted not having the gall to demand she let him see what it was. The bed was neatly made.
“How was your evening?” he asked.
“Fine.”
They faced off in silence, Evelyn’s gaze landing everywhere but on his own. This was bullshit. He had the urge to demand she fess up to whatever secrets she was keeping. What had the loan been for? Who was that man?
His senses prickled as a subtle trace of the man’s cologne drifted to him. His molars locked in place. The pregnant silence weighed heavily, so much so he wondered if her dollhouse of an apartment could withstand the laden presence. She fidgeted with the string attached to the worn hood of her sweatshirt.
His chest expanded with hot breath until he fought the urge to scream.
“Did your dinner go well?”
Small talk? Really? “Fine.”
She glanced at him and quickly averted her eyes. These were the signs of submission that went right to his cock. So strong and capable yet so delicate when handled rightly thus. He stepped closer and her fingers fluttered to her side. “You’ve been pushing me away.”
Shock registered in her stare. Her lips parted. They were so soft and pink without the need for gloss. “I . . . I was with you last night.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it. Today, at the market, your clandestine plans, which you refuse to enlighten me on—how many walls are we going to erect before we are two completely separate beings?”
“It’s only because . . .”
He stepped closer, interrupting her excuse. She made a sound of confusion low in her throat and looked at his shoes. Her feet were bare. Did that other man see her toes?
Her breath was shaky and the slight space between them became charged with his need to possess what he saw as his. He sensed her need building as well, the ever-present chemistry between them that was impossible to deny. His fingers reached for her chin and tipped up her face until she met his gaze.
There was no apology in those stern eyes that played between crystal blue and tinsel gray. She was stubborn as a foothill, and he needed to see her bend in some manner to satisfy his wilted confidence. No other woman had ever made him second-guess his actions the way she did.
He reached between t
hem and gripped the sagging front of her cotton shirt, bunching it within his fist and yanking her across the last gap that separated them. No space.
“I spent nearly a month without you. I won’t do it again, Evelyn. Not in word or action will I tolerate such distance between us. I want you, in my life, in my days, in my bed, and I don’t intend to acquiesce all that much. You want your independence? That’s fine . . . for now. But there’s only so much a man can take.”
The soft pink curve of her lower lip trembled as she processed his words. His thumb dragged over the fleshy pillow just before his mouth lowered and took what he needed. Breath audibly drew in as she permitted his kiss. So much had changed, somehow tilting the axis of everything he was accustomed to and tipping the balls until they all came crashing down into her court. Enough.
She could hold on to her individuality and massage her pride, because he recognized that was something she needed, but he wouldn’t give into her every whim like some docile, dickless yes-man. The need to assert some force of authority raked at him until he was nearly clawing at his flesh.
Ripping his mouth from hers, he breathed heavily as he stared into those eyes, darker now, dilated with lust. “I want you naked.” She hesitated and before she could answer, he mumbled, “And tomorrow we’re getting you curtains. Anyone could see in here if they took the time to look.”
The side of her mouth kicked up. “Not feeling your inner exhibitionist?”
“There’s a difference between fucking you on my terms at the risk of being witnessed and displaying your beauty where I’m not welcome to stay and keep onlookers at bay. You’re by yourself here. You need curtains.”
All humor faded from her teasing expression, as she understood the danger of accidently tempting a stranger with a window show. She went to her bed and removed the coverlet. After a minute the window was blocked with the makeshift drape.
Turning, she said, “The value of submission is in the will to surrender, Lucian.” She removed her sweatshirt, a glint of challenge in her eye. No bra. Goddamn it. There had been another man here.
Drawing in a calming breath, he said, “And your pants.”
Her fingers toyed with the snap and zipper. “I think we both understand you own my body and my heart.” Denim met the floor and she wedged the jeans and panties off her feet with her heels. “You can take what I freely offer and accept that this is the most I can give at this time, or you can go.”
His cock pulsed at the image of her so beautifully naked before him. He wasn’t going anywhere. His smart little woman had discovered the power of surrender. He wasn’t surprised. “I’m not leaving.”
“It’s a two-way street. I refuse to give what you won’t. Compromise. Accept that this is who I am and respect my need for independence, and I will tolerate your need for control in other things.”
Well, wasn’t she just full of conditions tonight? So stubborn. So headstrong. So much like him. She made him proud and her stick-to-itiveness made her surrender all the more sweet. “You’re pushing me.”
She smiled. “And you’re pushing me. I’d say we’re well matched. If we can agree on the rules, we can play.”
She knew him so well, understood the logic he approached life with every day, and could bend him the way no one else could. She was treading on a fine line, playing with his need for control and demanding her own.
She bowed her head, her body a display of everything he wanted to possess, yet he also wanted her secrets. He wanted her mind. She made it . . . interesting. “Show me.”
When she gazed up at him, there was acceptance dappled in anticipation showing beneath her full lashes. “What do you want, Lucian?” Her soft whisper glided over his flesh like a caress. In the face of such driven self-reliance, her submission disarmed him. His need was so potent, beyond wanting, beyond simple lust. His desire to possess her was tattooed upon his bones.
She’d stripped his dominant side raw with those simple words. She laid him out, taking all distractions off the table and surrendering herself purely for him. In this manner, they always complemented each other.
So many women believed submissiveness was a weakness, mindless subservience enacted to inflate a male’s ego. They were wrong. It was strength. Her strength was the trigger. The strength to let go, the strength to trust in another’s ability to know how much they might take, the strength to believe they’re utterly beautiful without façades and conceit. Raw.
It was a woman bared in naked truth, secure enough to give over to her man, surrender every bit of struggle to be a queen at the top of the king’s mountain. There was such a high esteem in his mind for the strength it took to surrender here, yet remain empowered in the outside world. He felt nothing but utter admiration for any woman capable of collapsing such self-preservation after just one command.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as she folded her hands behind her back. If he asked her to undo his pants and suck him off she would, but he wanted to pleasure her. This was the one area she truly let go and trusted him. He lamented that he could so freely have her body’s submission and somehow she still held back part of her heart. He’d work on it.
Lucian walked slowly to the bed and removed his suit jacket. After loosening his tie the rest of the way, he slid it out from under his collar and draped them over the corner of the low mattress. Easing down until his back rested on her pillows propped against the wall, he said, “Come here.”
She obligingly stepped in front of him. When he arrived, he wanted to claw off her clothes and mark her like an animal. Now, however, something in her calmness had tempered his need. He wanted only to be with her, please her, make her cry out in a way no other man could.
He sat up and drew her to his lap. Her knees straddled his thighs and settled onto him. His fingers curled over her hips, thumbs teasing at the undersides of her breasts. He loved her.
Quiet moments like this seemed to scream the truth. He loved her and would do anything to protect her, to witness those limited moments of unburdened happiness that showed so seldom in her knowing eyes. She had had such an arduous life before him. He hated that his poor choices had somehow added to her strife.
Apologies rang in his head. He’d been such a careless bastard. How could he have allowed things to get so out of hand with Parker? Never again, he vowed. Never would he let her slip through his hands again.
With intrepid gentleness, he sifted his fingers through her hair and drew her into his kiss. Petite hands squeezed at his shoulders as her knees tightened at his sides. He kissed her slowly, but intensely, laving at her neck, lips, and shoulders until he slowly eased her to her back and pressed his weight into her.
The world fell away, hidden beneath the sensual fog that swallowed them. The tiny bed squeaked beneath their weight as he removed his clothing and pressed into her hot core. Her legs held him and her hands glided over his skin as he slowly filled her, his only intention to love her.
Fingers pressed into flesh. Mouths pulled upon tender parts, and their bodies tangled with unanimity. Gone were his worries of business and poachers. She was his and she owned him equally, mind, body, and soul.
After bringing her to climax several times, he allowed himself to let go and bathed her womb in his release. Her sigh of contentment matched his own. So rarely had he enjoyed plain old missionary vanilla sex, yet with Evelyn, there was no line of ordinary. It was all potent and all-encompassing.
His body collapsed beside hers as they caught their breath. Her dainty fingers found his and entwined themselves there.
“I’m staying the night,” he announced and she let out a resigned sigh, clearly sensing there would be no getting rid of him.
After several moments of simply basking in the aftermath of their lovemaking, she rose and went to use the bathroom. His eyes returned to that cabinet hiding her paperwork. What would a woman who can’t read beyond a primary student
’s ability need with so much paperwork? He worried she could be signing something under misconceptions, and his need to protect her rode him hard.
He ignored his urge to investigate, feeling a bite of some unnamable esteem for his exercise in restraint. Trust. For some reason he knew it would mean so much more if she came to him with her secrets than if he demanded she share them. It was a difficult exercise in control and trust, but one he could savor the burn of—like a marathon he didn’t want to run, but found the value in walking.
Reaching in his pocket, he found his cell phone for distraction. His thumb swiped over the screen and found Dugan’s text.
2424 Glacier Place.
Residential area near Susquehanna Ave.
Appears to live alone.
Lucian quickly replied and tucked his phone away.
Run a check on the address and find out who he is. I’ll see you in the morning.
On cue, the reflection of the limo’s headlights danced over the blanket covering the window as Dugan pulled away.
***
There had never been a time Lucian was grateful for Evelyn’s literary shortcomings until now. As he glared down at the rag sprawled upon his desk, he felt like hurling his coffee across his office. In bold ink, his and Evelyn’s names sat like graffiti on every page. Never before had he resented the paparazzi so much.
Their assumptions of her background were preposterous and at the same time a little too close to the truth. What frightened him most were the references to Pearl. There was definitely a Judas among them, and when he discovered who it was, they would be handled accordingly. He wondered if the same person tampering with his personal life and leading the media to his door through crumbs of truth was the same person trying to swindle him out of his deal with Labex Green.
He’d run through all possibilities and unwittingly kept returning to the same suspect. There was only one person who knew of Evelyn’s past in such detail and only one person brazen enough to face off with Lucian in business. He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, wishing the fallout of their partnership and threats to disembowel the other man’s company would be enough to keep him in check, but it was time to admit he’d been wrong.
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