by Blue, Mel
He would start to make his usual harsh demands of her and she’d look up at him with her wide-brown eyes. He’d remember the way her mouth would close over him, the way she moaned or how she looked without a stitch of clothes and his initial request would soften.
Anyone within listening distance would turn to frown at him. Lucian Beaudelaire didn’t say “please,” not when talking to a subordinate. That word went without saying but he was going around making sure he said it to her. And Courtney’s gaze would usually promise retribution for treating her with kid gloves or likely making it obvious something had happened in New Orleans.
And then his promise sat between them like a two-ton gorilla.
He was fucking up and knew it. Sure as shit didn’t know how to stop it either. He was treating her differently. He should have paid dearly for it in private, but every time they were alone Lucian transformed the heated debate about his behavior into something else with his mouth, his hands.
This obvious failing hadn’t become so crystalline clear until the meeting today when he and Courtney were in a room full of people. Courtney was making him soft.
He deepened his frown at the two women. “You can check your Facebook status in the unemployment line. Get back to work.”
A tense silence followed his announcement but both employees were focused on their computer screens by the time he faced forward to leave.
Inspired, he took a tour around the office and offered the same encouraging advice. By the time he made it back to his domain on the top floor of the three-story building, he found Courtney’s desk empty and his office door closed. Wary, he went inside.
She leaned against his desk, her arms crossed. Her attention snapped up to him. A week had passed since they had left New Orleans, but everything had changed between them. She wore the same strictly business dress suits, but now she left her curly hair a bit wild since he tended to bury his hands in it the first chance he stole. She continued to wear make-up but left off the lipstick since during more than one private moment he’d kissed it off her mouth. And had the evidence on his lips.
Her gaze was shuttered and she didn’t drop her arms at the sight of him.
“Do you need something?” he asked, now more than wary. His guard was up. He could feel it in the way the muscles in his shoulders coiled.
“Lucian—”
“Mr. Beaudelaire,” he corrected, subtly reminding her of the boundary they had about work and play…even though he couldn’t stick to it. But she was the one stable force in his life. He could count on her. She couldn’t do what he feared she’d do.
She bit her lip and focused on the floor. “Lucian, this isn’t working.”
The muscles in his back snapped so tense he stood an inch straighter. “What isn’t working?” he asked, though he knew what she meant.
Courtney crossed her arms over her stomach. “You’ve been jumping down everyone’s throat but mine.”
Since that exactly described his behavior in the last hour, at the very least, he couldn’t argue. The most unsettling fact was that it took him a week to realize what he’d been doing. His gut clenched and he stepped toward her.
“No,” he said as though that could change her mind.
She looked at him, her eyes wide and he read the emotions warring in her gaze—regret, need, anger. The last confused him. What the hell did she need to be angry about? She had all the power in their relationship. Before Courtney he never looked twice at one of his employees. Before Courtney no woman had ever invaded his thoughts. Before Courtney he’d never believed someone could care about him more than their own needs.
So how could he not treat her differently? He woke up every morning covered in her scent. She was on his skin, his sheets, his home. She’d kiss him and leave to get ready for work as though nothing had happened.
Even though what they did with each other stripped away any propriety, there was still a wall. And it didn’t escape his notice this could very well be why she had decided after a week she couldn’t have this affair with him anymore. They were getting under each other’s skin. There was no changing that.
“Courtney,” he said and grasped her elbows.
She took a step back, breaking from his hold. “I need you to be my boss between 8:30 a.m. to 5 p.m. If I fuck up I need you to yell about it. I need you to be anal retentive when you go over my drafts of work. I need you to say in the most condescending way that the McDonnell Douglas case is the most important case law on discrimination, and I should damn well be able to cite it by memory. You’ve gone soft.” Her voice was low but the tremor of anger made her tone sharp. “If you treat me like this I won’t learn a damn thing. I’ll be soft too. I won’t be able to make it on my own.”
I won’t be able to leave you.
Her words felt like a punch to the gut and it took him a moment to stalk to his desk. Another to push down the irrational need to argue with her, to tell her she was wrong. She wasn’t. When he could face her, Lucian crossed his arms and looked right over her shoulder, not able to meet her gaze. Because….Fuck.
Wasn’t that always the case in his life? In his family? No one stuck around when shit got complicated. “I see,” he finally said to her announcement to break things off.
“Don’t—Don’t do that. Don’t prepare some argument.” She moved forward into his line of sight. “We had a deal. I’ve let you slide all week but now it’s getting noticeable.”
He clenched his jaw to keep from saying what he really wanted. “That’s your choice.”
Her head jerked back. “What?” she whispered.
“You’ve ended things. It’s over.” He inhaled and tucked away any emotion tightening his chest. “We need to prep for next week’s depositions. Put together some materials for our client to read over before tomorrow’s meeting.”
She glanced down. “Sure thing, Mr. Beaudelaire. When do you need it?”
He turned away from her. “I needed it yesterday to be frank.”
“Right. Right.”
He waited until he heard the door close behind her to lean against the desk. It’s what she needed. And what she needed wasn’t him but what he could teach her. Once again he was something to trot out and to put away when its usefulness was over.
Anger started to spill through his veins and pounded right in his heart. Rational. He had to be rational. A growl built in the back of his throat and he balled his hands against the wooden desk.
Fuck the rules. Fuck the whispers and the conflict of interest. He just wanted Courtney in his bed when he woke up in the morning. He needed her to give him a sidelong glance when they were on their one-hundredth hour of work and he demanded more. He needed her to challenge him. Make him laugh when he was being a jackass. He just wanted Courtney.
With an angry sweep of his hands he wiped everything off his desk including his printer and laptop. It was the epitome of irrational. How could he care when he’d just lost the one thing, one person he wanted most in his life? His breathing panted out and he straightened to pull his fingers through his hair.
His cellphone rang alerting him of a text from fucking Henri. Stuffing away the mad, he checked it.
He’s awake. It’s his daughter.
Back to New Orleans, except this time he’d go alone. Reminding himself of who he needed to be just to keep it together was the only reason why he managed to walk out of the office and face Courtney. “Get someone to clean up my office. I have to head back to New Orleans.”
She seemed to find his jacket’s buttons very important things to focus on. “Am I going with you? Do you want me to postpone the meeting with the client?”
“Postpone the meeting. You can stay here. I can take someone else with me.”
Her gaze whipped up to him. “Mr. Beaudelaire—”
“I need everything ready for the deposition. I need their reply to the interrogs, production of documents and the documents they actually sent. I need you here.”
This is what you wanted h
e would have added and almost did but he swallowed that bitter reply. He’d learned from his father if someone didn’t care they would simply never care. No matter how he said he still needed her, she’d brush it aside. Other things were important.
He wasn’t important.
“I’ll have it ready,” she said. Courtney hesitated. “I can go with you and still have it ready.”
“No. I’m heading out to make my flight plans. Family emergency.”
Was he being a dick by treating her exactly like an employee? Maybe. But it’s what Courtney had said she wanted. He’d give her that and nothing more.
*****
After Lucian walked away from her desk, all Courtney could do was stare down the hallway. When there was nothing but silence she noted, in an absent way, her hands were shaking and that tremor was working its way through her limbs.
Now, now she could finally let her guard down. She plopped into her seat and put her head to the desk. Breathe. Just breathe. But she couldn’t. She’d broken off things with Lucian, because he wasn’t being an asshole to her anymore. That was both right and wrong on so many levels.
She didn’t want special treatment from fucking the boss. That’s exactly what she had received. If not today, soon, her co-workers would have noticed. They were surprised as is he could be cordial at all. It had to stop. It had to.
Right?
The one thing she had always failed to do was follow-through on her ultimatums. More than once she’d announced to her ex she would go back to school if he didn’t do Y. He’d come home with flowers or sweet words, and reassure her they had the rest of their lives to complete both of their dreams.
Lucian hadn’t kept his word. She had to take that as a sign this time wouldn’t be any different.
Right?
She lifted her head and pressed a hand to the knots forming in her stomach. Work. She needed to focus on that. It’s what she demanded from him.
Courtney pushed from her desk. The janitors made their rounds once a day at night when no one else was supposed to be in the office. Sometimes they would be called in case of emergencies. Lucian hadn’t made it sound like the latter, but she had to check for herself.
She stepped into Lucian’s office and then quickly closed the door. There were a few stray paperclips and pens left on his desk but the rest lay in a mess on the floor. Case files, office phone, his laptop and printer. The evidence of the destruction she’d left in her wake forced Courtney to press her shoulders into the wood to keep herself upright. His reaction to her need to end things had been cold, completely emotionless. She’d thought he hadn’t cared. But this…
They couldn’t do this. They couldn’t be in each other’s space acting like nothing had changed between them, as though they hadn’t shared something special. Her hands were still shaking when she put them up to her face. She still needed him and it wasn’t just to be lovers. He’d believed in her even when she couldn’t believe in herself. He’d made her laugh. Made her feel for him even when she knew it was so wrong.
And when they’d crossed the line, the worse had happened. There was only one thing she could do. He’d be pissed. It would make shit so damn obvious to anyone paying attention.
But they couldn’t go on like this. She had broken them. Fuck, they broke each other, and nothing could fix them. She could only clean up the mess. So Courtney dropped to her knees and began the first clean up.
CHAPTER NINE
For the second time in a year, an all-time record, Lucian walked into his brother’s office. They’d made plans to meet there. He couldn’t help but think this was a precaution if this conversation turned into another round of fighting. He didn’t have much fight left though. The plane ride had been long and too fucking quiet without Courtney.
Henri sat behind the massive desk, in a chair too many Beaudelaire men had sat in. His brother held up his hand as he continued his conversation on the phone.
Lucian’s phone beeped letting him know he had an email. Since he had nothing but time to kill he checked it and then had to sit down. The message was from Courtney. He scrubbed a hand down his face.
How did things get this fucked up?
“Bad news?” Henri asked.
His laugh sounded bitter. The whole damn day was one long string of bad news after the next. “My paralegal has requested to work for my junior partner. Morgan’s smart, hungry. Courtney will do well with her.”
He didn’t want to meet his brother’s know-it-all expression. And Henri would know what must have transpired because this was his brother’s wheelhouse.
“I forgive you now for punching me in the gut,” Henri said and there was no mistaking the laugh in his voice.
“Fuck you, Henri.”
This time there was a definitive laugh. “I’m going to give you some advice.”
He gripped his phone, debating if he should throw it at his brother’s face. “Don’t want any from you.”
“When you get back to Courtney, fuck her until she can’t see straight.”
Lucian threw his phone on the desk as the safer alternative. “What kind of fucked up advice is that?”
“You just looked like you needed some. Shitty or not.” His brother shrugged. “Also, let her transfer. Less of a problem when you guys kiss and make up.”
“She—”
“It’s not just sex.” There was no give or laughter in his brother’s tone. “I saw the way you guys were with each other. At least, on your part it’s not just fucking.” His brother held his gaze in challenge and Lucian couldn’t argue.
“We’re here to talk about Noelle.”
“Sure. Now that Uncle Sebastian is awake and has confirmed she’s his daughter…what’s next?”
Good. This he could talk about without wanting to hit something. Or someone. His hands were still balled in his lap. “Probate isn’t my area of expertise, but he’s going to need to do something with his will in case he takes a turn for the worse.”
Henri nodded. “Can you call someone?”
“Sure. I have contacts.”
“Okay.”
The room went quiet. Five years ago they would have chatted, they would have been brothers to the bone. Courtney made him want a connection again. She’d been his and now she wanted to work for Morgan. Now he wouldn’t have an excuse to talk to her even if it was only to bark orders.
Fuck. Fuck. How could they fix this?
Henri sighed and punched a number on his phone. It rang once and a brisk, female voice suddenly filled the room. “Ms. Gibson.”
In a gesture just like his own, Henri tugged a hand through his hair. “I assume you have Courtney’s contact information.”
“Of course,” the woman replied.
“I need you to plant a seed.”
“For the dungeon?” she asked, sounding confused.
A rush of color rose up Henri’s neck to his face. “For my brother. He’s fucked up.”
“No problem.”
His general manager ended the call. Lucian smiled for the first time in hours. “The dungeon?”
“My business.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I’ve always known you played here.”
“And you disapproved.”
Not like he kept his opinion to himself, ever. “I worried about you. You were…not yourself and then you took on the Den.”
Henri’s jaw went taut and it seemed like he had to force himself to sit back in his chair to look unaffected by the turn in the conversation. “You want it to die.”
He shook his head. “I want my brother to not get stuck in a clusterfuck. And in your case that could be literal.” This time he shrugged. “But glass houses.”
“Indeed.”
The hesitation in his brother’s demeanor seemed to ripple in the air. Lucian raised his brow. “Spit it out.”
“What I always hated about you was that you’re a rigid tight-ass, but it appears with Courtney you broke your own rule. There must have been a compelli
ng reason. So change your rules.”
It wasn’t his rules that created the chasm between himself and Courtney. She needed him to be her boss. She needed him only for that. But those rules, ones he followed to make sure he was never reckless or impulsive had wedged a chasm with his brother. Henri didn’t need Lucian’s opinion. And Lucian needed his brother. And, if and when, Henri got kicked in the nuts by the life he’d constructed, Lucian should be there. That’s what family was. For the good, the bad and the ugly they were supposed to be there. It was an olive branch his brother had held out for years. One Lucian had been too stubborn to take.
He held Henri’s gaze and nodded. “Are we done holding each others’ hands and singing lullabies?”
Henri pinched the bridge of his nose on a sigh and muttered, “Fuck you, Lucian.”
He smiled. “Guess we are.”
*****
Courtney slammed into the bathroom the next afternoon, needing a moment. Just one second out of her day where no one talked about Lucian. Bad enough her morning started with Tess staring blankly at her when Courtney had went to her, apparently former, desk. Tess was pretty, nice and Lucian was going to eat her alive by the end of the workweek. Two days to be exact.
Fine. That was fine. He’d signed off on her request without a fight. Or a phone call or an email to be pissy about her decision, at the very least, the fact he was losing a woman who worked at his side for a year.
But what right did she have to be mad? She’d sent the request in an email. Who cared that she did it to avoid having to meet his gaze and ask to sever their close ties? Courtney had even picked Morgan because the woman rarely had any run-ins with Lucian. A good portion of the attorney’s caseload came from the county’s free legal aid center.
But the office was buzzing with this change. There were questions and whispers and likely bets on how long Tess would last.
She’d been fine until Seraphina called and asked about the fate of the goodie box. The entire story had spilled out of her and when Courtney took a breather, the woman had said, “You don’t work for him anymore. Not really. So are you going to give him a proper welcome home when he gets back?”