Exhaling roughly, Julia knew she needed to pull away and stop this conversation. That was the professional and mature thing to do, but she didn’t move. She was frozen on her stool, her heart thumping in her chest.
He wasn’t done yet. “I knew that if you realized who I was, you would’ve never let me get my hand between those pretty thighs of yours and I would’ve never known how soft and slick you felt against my fingers.”
A bolt of red-hot lust blasted through her veins as heat poured into her very core. Those words created a storm inside her. A tremble rocked her body.
“So, yeah, that’s another reason why I didn’t say who I was.” His lips brushed the lobe of her ear, sending an illicit shiver across her skin.
Pulse pounding, she drew back. She felt unsteady as Lucian straightened on his chair, and she felt so close—too close to do something irrevocably reckless. Like hopping off her stool and into his lap.
“You’re not supposed to bring that up,” she reminded him. “You promised.”
He tilted his head to the side. “I didn’t promise that.”
She opened her mouth.
“I didn’t,” he insisted, and when she dragged the conversation back through her thoughts, she realized he was right. He hadn’t.
Her eyes narrowed. “Even so, it would be the appropriate thing for you to do.”
“And I think you already know how I feel about doing the appropriate thing.”
She shook her head. It was way past time to end this conversation. “Thank you for the tea, Lucian, but—” A gasp cut her off.
Lucian rose and was in front of her so quickly that she was startled. “Say it again.”
Confusion swamped her. “Say what?”
“My name.”
They were close, and he towered over her by a good foot. Julia reached out, gripping the edge of the island. “Why?”
“Because I asked?” he offered, his lips curving up at the corners. “And because I like the way it sounds coming from your lips.”
Her heart did a weird little jump. She had no idea how to respond to that request. None whatsoever.
But then he moved. He reached into the small place between them, catching the piece of her hair that had fallen across her cheek. Before she could move away, the back of his hand dragged across her cheek as he tucked the hair behind her ear. Her stupid, stupid body immediately responded once more.
Heat flushed her veins, pooling low in her belly, which was so wrong on so many different levels she should be ashamed. Knowing that didn’t change a single thing about how her body was oh so down for whatever he was up to. A wave of tiny shivers danced over her skin. She felt the tips of her breasts tighten as his closeness swamped her senses.
Lucian lowered his head, stopping when only a hair’s breadth remained between their mouths. She dragged in a ragged breath, inhaling the decadent scent of rich, male spice. “Please?” he asked.
What was he asking for again?
His gaze dropped and those lips tipped up even farther, spreading into a knowing smile as he lifted his gaze to hers. She knew what he saw. The hard tips of her breasts.
A different kind of warmth flooded her system, forcing her to take a step back. Crossing her arms once more over her chest, she swallowed a mouthful of curses. “We were having such a good conversation—a weird one—but a good one, and you had to go and ruin it.”
His laugh was totally unrepentant as he leaned a hip into the island. “I have this feeling there are certain parts of you that don’t think I ruined a thing. I’d even go as far as to say I’m willing to wager a bet that those other parts of you are really, really interested.”
Oh my God, was he for real?
As she stared at him, she realized she had a couple of options at this point. Either let him fluster her with his audacious flirting or shut that crap down.
She went with the latter. “Look, I get that you’re a flirt. That’s your thing. You probably don’t even realize you’re doing it or you can’t help yourself. Whatever. You just need to know that it’s going in one of my ears and out the other. I’m not here to ease your boredom or whatever.”
His gaze dropped again and his smile turned indulgent. “You’re right. I can’t help myself.”
“Think you should try harder.” She turned around before they ended up in another unnecessary battle of wits. “Good night.”
“Good night, Ms. Hughes,” he called out in return.
She lifted one hand and instead of flipping him off, she wiggled her fingers in a short wave.
“Do you believe?” he asked just as she reached the doors.
Knowing she should keep walking, she stopped anyway and faced him, wishing for the hundredth time that evening that he resembled Big Foot instead of someone dreams were made of. “Believe what?”
“About the house and my family—the curse?”
She laughed softly. “No. No, I don’t.”
Sitting down in the stool she’d sat in, he watched with heavy-hooded eyes as he picked up his mug. “You should. You really should.”
Lucian watched Julia leave the kitchen and hurry off through the house as he sipped his tea. He didn’t get up to leave. No, he waited.
And he didn’t have to wait long.
“Why did you tell her all of that?” a voice asked from behind him.
He lowered his cup to the island. “And how long were you eavesdropping on our conversation?”
“Long enough.”
Twisting toward the doorway on the other side of the room, he propped up an arm up on the island. “You’re up late, Gabe.”
His brother walked into the kitchen. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“My insomnia must be contagious.”
“Possibly.” He looked toward the double doors. “Julia seems like a really . . . nice person. A good person.”
He tilted his head to the side as he watched his brother. “She does.”
Gabe picked up her empty mug, staring down into the leftover tea like it would spell out his future for him. “We should leave her alone and just let her do her job.”
Interesting, Lucian thought. “Where is this royal ‘we’ coming into play?”
“You know what I mean.” He placed the cup back down and met Lucian’s stare. “You know what we are. What we always end up doing to people. We destroy them and then go about our lives like nothing fucking happened.”
A huge part of Lucian wanted to deny that, but he couldn’t because it was true. In a way. But, he thought, didn’t all truths change at some point?
Silence fell between them and then Gabe pushed away from the island. “Get some sleep.”
Gabe left then, disappearing into the darkness of what used to be the back porch but had been sealed up ages ago and turned into a storage room.
In the quiet kitchen, Lucian turned back around on the stool and picked up his mug. Halfway to his mouth, he halted as a draft of cold hair stirred the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He looked to the right just as the door on the cupboard he’d gotten the tea out of swung open.
Somewhere, deep in the house, he thought he heard laughter.
And he thought it sounded an awful lot like great-grandma Elise.
Julia held her breath as she tried again and offered the slim paintbrush to Madeline. She’d been holding it toward her for a least thirty minutes and the only progress they’d made was that Madeline appeared to be staring at the brush.
“Come on,” Julia murmured.
Lucian had done as he’d promised. The blank canvas and easel had been brought to her bedroom, along with a selection of paintbrushes and paint placed on the table beside the chair.
This could’ve been the dumbest idea known to man, but it was worth trying. At least Julia felt that way.
Letting go of her breath, she lowered the paintbrush and turned to the open doorway as she heard footsteps approaching the room. The moment she saw them, her brain short-circuited a little.
Oh my . . .
Lucian was the first to step into the room and not too far behind him was Gabe. Holy smokes. . . . Both made striking impressions dressed in tailored black suits. For a moment, she kind of forgot who she was as she stared at them. Thank God Devlin wasn’t with them, because there was a good chance she might fall off the stool she was sitting on if she saw all three of them dressed like that.
Immediately she thought about what she’d done last night while thinking of him. Which of course made her think of the real thing they’d shared, about what he said to her as she drank the tea he’d made her. Her fingers were nothing compared to his. Not at all. Like no—
“Ms. Hughes.” A grin appeared on those sensual lips. “I asked you a question.”
She blinked. “You did?”
Gabe came to stand by Lucian’s side. Shoulder to shoulder, they were the exact same height. One was the dark to the other’s light. “He asked how things were going?”
“Oh.” She glanced at Madeline. She was still gazing at the paintbrush Julia held. “Things are going slow, but we’re working at it. Aren’t we, Madeline?”
Madeline’s finger twitched.
Lucian strode across the room, kneeling down beside his sister. He smiled at her impassive face. “You paint something for me, and I promise I’ll read more than a chapter later tonight. We’re getting to a good part—where Harry goes underwater to save his friends. And, yeah, I know. You have that part memorized, but it’s still just as good the tenth time around.”
Julia fought a smile and lost as she glanced to where Gabe lingered just inside the room. He was watching his brother and sister, expression pinched with uncertainty. Julia wanted to invite him, to tell him it was okay to do what Lucian was doing, focusing on things that they knew their sister enjoyed.
But then Gabe’s gaze found hers. He smiled wearily, a curve of the lips that didn’t reach his shadow-crowded eyes.
“Behave,” Lucian was saying to his sister. Smoothing back Madeline’s hair, Lucian rose and turned to look down at Julia. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” she chirped. “My head doesn’t hurt at all.”
That was partially true. If she bent too quickly, it would start throbbing like it had its own heartbeat, but that was expected for the next couple of days.
“I’m relieved to hear that.” His gaze washed over her face, lingering on her lips. “And how did you sleep last night? I hope the tea helped.”
Heat moved from her belly and seemed to pool between her thighs. She needed to get a grip. “It did.”
His smile spread, and their gazes locked. She felt a little breathless as he held her stare. As the seconds ticked by, she had to wonder if he somehow sensed her unwanted attraction to him.
Knowing her luck, probably.
Gabe cleared his throat, drawing her attention. “We’ll going to be leaving soon. Our father’s memorial service is this afternoon.”
“Oh.” Her hand tightened around the paintbrush. “That seems quick.”
“It is,” Lucian replied. “Better this way.”
Gabe inclined his head. “Is there anything you need before we leave?”
“Richard and Livie will be joining us,” Lucian added.
She gave a little shake of her head even though a fine shiver curled down her spine. Being alone in this huge home kind of . . . creeped her out. “I’m fine.”
Lucian looked around the room. “You have your phone with you?”
“Yes.” Odd question.
“Can I see it?”
Unsure of why he was making such a request, she rose and walked over to the nightstand. Unplugging her phone from the charger, she faced him. “Why do you need to see it?”
“You aren’t just going to give it to me?” he asked, eyes dancing.
“Uh, no.”
Gabe snorted. “I really like her.”
“Of course you do,” Lucian murmured. “I want you to key in my number.”
Her first instinct was to refuse that, but that was her just being a stubborn brat. He gave her the number and she typed it in. A moment later, Gabe gave her his number.
“If you need anything for any reason, call me,” Lucian ordered.
“Or you can call me,” his brother suggested, casting a grin at Lucian when his eyes narrowed into thin slits. “I’m not as bossy as him.”
Julia smiled. “That is true.”
“I’m not bossy.” Lucian frowned.
His brother let out a choked laugh. “Are you seriously that unaware of yourself?”
Lucian crossed his arms. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Ms. Hughes doesn’t think I’m bossy.”
Raising an eyebrow, she placed her phone back on the nightstand. “Actually, I think you’re pretty bossy.”
“Okay. Let me rephrase that statement,” he replied. “You like my kind of bossy.”
Her gaze shot to his, and her faced flushed pink when she saw the knowing, heated look return to his eyes. She knew exactly what he was referencing, and she was going to punch him—fantasize about him again later, but definitely also imagine herself punching him.
“Okay, then.” Gabe draped an arm over Lucian’s shoulders. “We need to get going. If we’re late, Dev will flip out and we’re never hear the end of it.”
“Sad but true.” Lucian started backing up. “Remember. If you need anything, call me. If you call him, you’ll hurt my fragile ego.”
“That would be a shame,” she said dryly.
“I know. We wouldn’t want that to happen.” Winking at her in a ridiculous way, he stopped at the doorway. “By the way, love the outfit.”
Julia glanced down at herself in surprise. What in the world did he like about her outfit? She was wearing plain old blue scrubs. He was so full of it, an incorrigible flirt. When she looked up, Gabe was pushing Lucian out of the bedroom. He said something to Lucian too low for her to hear, but whatever it was, it had Lucian laughing—that deep, toe-curling laugh of his.
Both seemed in a good mood despite the fact they were going to their father’s memorial.
“Weird,” she whispered.
Telling herself that their issues with their deceased father were none of her business, she walked back over to Madeline and plopped down on the stool. It was hard not to think about how Gabe had made no attempt to interact with Madeline at all. If she was locked in there, aware of what was going on, that had to sting.
Julia sighed. “There’s a lot of history with your family, isn’t there?”
Madeline didn’t respond, but Julia lifted the paintbrush again. A moment passed, and Madeline’s gaze lowered to the long, slender black handle. Her right fingers twitched, and Julia grew very still, waiting and hoping that something, anything would happen.
Then slowly, almost painfully, Madeline lifted her hand and wrapped her thin fingers around the handle of the brush.
Chapter 14
Lucian was going to need a barrel of bourbon to get through this service. He’d rather be anywhere than where he was, and this wasn’t even technically the funeral. It was just a memorial service where the one percent would rub elbows and pretend to respect one another.
In the place of a coffin was a large framed photo of dear old dad. Their father’s body hadn’t even been released yet. Once that happened, a smaller and much more private funeral would be held.
In other words, no way near as ridiculous as this.
Standing in the corner of the large atrium, he watched Dev hold court. He was made for his fucking shit, groomed and bred for it. Dev was in his element while the collar of Lucian’s shirt was choking him and the suit felt itchy.
Soon, Dev would rise to the platform in the front, take the podium, and spew out so much rose-colored bullshit about their father, Lucian would need to take Pepto to swallow it.
Hopefully, he could slip away undetected before that happened.
He’d already fended off about half a hundred half-assed condolences and if one more person approached hi
m with a forced sympathetic smile, he may punch it right off their face.
The only good coming from this damn circus was the donations that would be made and matched. Other than that? Nothing.
“You could try to look like you want to be here,” a voice said from behind him.
Lucian smirked as he glanced over his shoulder at Troy. “I don’t believe in the fake-it-till-you-make-it motto.” He waited until Troy moved to stand beside him. “And what are you doing here?”
Troy folded his arms. “Thought I’d pay my respects.”
He snorted. “Really?”
His dark gaze slid to his. “Didn’t like that man one bit, but I consider you guys my brothers. For that, I’ll deal with a few minutes of wanting to punch myself in the balls repeatedly.”
Lucian laughed under his breath. “Right there with you on that.”
Cutting toward them through the throng of people was Gabe. His strides were long and purposeful, and he looked about as comfortable as Lucian felt as he smoothly sidestepped an aging politician heading in his way.
“Almost got you there.” Troy chuckled as Gabe stopped to stand with them.
“Christ,” grunted Gabe, running a hand over his hair. The long strands immediately fell forward. “If I had to listen to one more story about the good old days at Eton, I’m going to hurt someone.”
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers, Lucian rocked back on his heels. He watched a tall, thin blonde appear at Dev’s side. His lips twisted in a wry grin. “Looks like you just reached safety.”
“Damn,” Troy muttered under his breath as he saw who Lucian was talking about.
“What?” Gabe looked over his shoulder and cursed. “Aw, hell.”
Standing at Dev’s side was Sabrina Harrington, Dev’s Photoshopped heiress fiancée. With her willowy frame and ice-blond hair, she looked as cold and untouchable as their oldest brother. To this day, Lucian couldn’t figure out how in the hell they ended up together.
Especially since she’d been hot for Gabe years ago, after they all returned home from college.
Lucian also couldn’t understand how Dev could stand to be around the woman long enough to even contemplate the idea of marrying her.
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