by Kara Chase
“Not that easy.”
“It sure must be. I mean, I doubt there’s anything in the bylaws preventing you from moving in together with Lucien. And, you know...you’d like that to happen, wouldn’t you?” she asks, her eyes once more boring into my soul.
Oh, crap, how the hell am I supposed to lie to Kate?
We’ve been best friends since high school, and she knows me better than anyone. To lie to her would just be futile. Better to spill the beans.
“Okay, listen...I wouldn’t exactly mind to have this situation become somewhat...permanent. But Lucien would never agree to it. He’s super competitive, and he’d probably see something like that as a compromise. I doubt he’s the kind of guy that compromises on anything. With him, it’s all win or lose.”
I sigh. Why don’t I like thinking about that? I’ve been battling Lucien for a few weeks now, but it’s been a while since I’ve thought about a possible resolution to this whole mess.
It’s almost as if I don’t want the situation to be resolved.
“Besides,” I continue, “there’s something else.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s about Edwin, the president of the Condo Board. He has something that might throw the whole thing off. Something big,” I admit, suddenly feeling nervous about the whole thing.
This is the first time I’m saying it out loud.
“Come on, spill it, Viv.”
“He’s made me an offer...if I kick Lucien out, Edwin is willing to pay me double the value of the apartment if I sell him the rights. We’re talking hundreds of millions of dollars, Karen. This is something....shit, this is something that might change my life.”
“Holy fucking shit, girl! Why the hell is he willing to pay that much for the apartment? You sure he isn’t trying to pull one over you? Maybe he’s just some scammer.”
“No...I mean, I’m pretty sure he’s planning something, but I’ve checked his track record. It’s solid, and he really seems willing to go through with it.”
“Oh god. So, it’s either Lucien or millions of dollars, right? Can you let go of this guy?”
I think of her question for a bit, chomping down on my lower lip. Before I come up with an answer, Karen starts talking again.
“Hold on—what if Edwin offered the same to Lucien? Maybe he’s playing you both.”
“I thought of that,” I admit. “But Lucien is worth billions. He wouldn’t even bat an eye at Edwin’s proposal. So, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one Edwin made this offer to. And with this kind of money...I could start my own practice, you know? Leave my firm, and really carve a place for myself in the history books. Maybe I could start building an empire of my own.”
“You always wanted to do something grand, Vivian.”
“It’s true, but...I don’t like this. I don’t like the fact that Lucien and I are still fighting over the apartment, and I really don’t know what to do. Maybe I should just give up on that fucking apartment and let Lucien have it.”
“Whoa, hold on. Think this through, ‘cause that doesn’t sound like you at all.”
“I mean...screw it, I know I’ve been telling you I’m not in love with Lucien, but...I guess you were right.”
I pause, stupefied with the very words coming out of my mouth.
“I love him. I really do. He’s just like me. And he...he gets me. I can picture all kinds of stupid shit when he’s around. Like getting home from work, dead tired, and have him ordering Chinese without me asking. Just because he cares about me.”
“Holy shit, I don’t know how long that guy’s cock is, but it must be miles long.”
I don’t say a word. I just frown, folding my arms.
Karen really has a problem with having serious conversations.
“Okay, listen up, babe,” she continues, her voice suddenly acquiring a conspiratorial tone. “Isn’t he the guy that set up a gym in your living room?”
I nod.
“The guy that got Trudy and Trina drinking belly shots out of one another?”
I nod again.
“The guy that set up a poker room in your apartment and brought women over to serve him?”
And again, I nod.
“Seriously, Vivian. We’re talking about the same guy, right? The one that put pinup posters of pornstars all over the living room the other day?”
One final nod, and I sigh.
Yeah, things are always a bit crazy with Lucien around. That day I spent two hours ripping the posters off the wall, only to come home later in the day just to find even more posters hanging there.
“Yes, that’s Lucien.”
“Alright, Vivian. Listen up. You fought hard to get where you are, and you have the opportunity of a lifetime. Your dreams are at arm’s distance. So you know what you have to do now.”
“I do?”
“Yes. You have to crush him,” she grins at me and then orders us another round.
“No mercy, girl.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lucien
Two weeks.
That’s how long has passed since that candlelit dinner.
Remember that one? When we did everything but sit down and eat. The one where she tried to seduce me out of my fucking penthouse.
It’s been fifteen fucking days of pure madness—that much I can tell you.
Before Vivian, my life was pretty stable; I worked, and I fucked—and not necessarily in that order. But then she stepped into my life, and everything went to shit. All because of this fucking apartment.
Four sets of lingerie.
I’ve seen Vivian wear four different lingeries. Red lace thong and matching bra, purple velvety panties...whatever, I’ve seen it all.
You’d think she was doing it on purpose, and normally, that would be the case. But Vivian is anything but normal; when she’s fighting for something...she goes all out.
So get this.
I’m trying to close a fucking deal with some Saudi asshole, and I decide to bring the guy over to the penthouse so I can impress him. These guys respect nothing but money and power, so I figured signing a contract at The Trident would be a good way to do it.
Besides, I took him there in the morning, since Vivian probably would be at work.
Thing is, Vivian wasn’t.
The guy was ready to sign the fucking contract when she came out of her bedroom, wearing nothing but a matching set of red panties and bra.
And heels. Did I mention the fucking heels?
The Saudi dude almost had a fucking stroke. And Vivian just waltzed past us, went straight to the kitchen, and bent over like a fucking vixen as she grabbed whatever the fuck it was from inside the fridge.
I swear to God, I’ll never forget how perfect her heart-shaped ass looked in that moment.
She pulled that fucking stunt four times. Four fucking times.
I figure she wanted to ruin my deals, but the funny thing is...everyone signed after seeing Vivian.
Bad move on her part.
Look, Vivian wanted a fight...and I’m not the kind of guy that backs down. Since she pulled that bullshit with the lingerie, I decided I too had to do something.
So, next time she brought one of her whiny friends over, I plopped myself on the couch right between the two of them, planted my feet up on the coffee table, and took control of the remote.
And when I say I “took control of the remote,” what I mean is that I bought the filthiest porn movie I could find.
Midget Trannies from Dildoland 2 or some bullshit like that.
Oh, man, I wish I had taken of picture of the look on their faces. Vivian—she was so fucking embarrassed by the whole thing.
One time I pulled that stunt when one of her friends came around, crying her heart out after her pussy little boyfriend had cheated on her. Vivian straight up wanted to murder me after that one.
After I did that three times in row, she quit bringing her friends over.
Game, set, and fucking match
.
Or close to it anyway.
Three fights.
Shit got really ugly three times.
And by that, I mean that Vivian screamed her lungs out, threw a vase at my head, and then chased me through the apartment with a fucking broom. Of course, it probably didn’t help when I asked her if she was about to clean the apartment with the broom or fly out into the sky on it.
Chicks, man...they’re fucking insane.
Don’t think I’m whining—I don’t shy away from a good fight. I mean, one of these fights was actually a food fight, and you know how those go.
We kinda took it up from there...after all, everything becomes interesting when you add whipped cream to the mix.
But these fights were fucking nasty, I won’t deny it.
Vivian is as tough as nails.
Except…
We fucked fifteen times.
We fucked every single day of these past two weeks. Sometimes it was angry sex, the kind where you’re not sure if you’re actually fucking or fighting, and other times, it was...
It was actually fucking sweet sex.
The kind where you hold each other when you’re done.
The kind where you drift off to sleep together.
The kind where you hold her hands and gaze into her eyes, and then realize you’re not fucking…
You’re making love.
I can’t pinpoint the exact moment when it started to happen.
All I know is that somewhere along the way, things really started to change.
I carried her to bed twice.
And this time I’m not talking about sex. No—it’s surprising, I know, but it’s the truth.
I got home past midnight three times, and these three times, I always entered the apartment to find Vivian fast asleep on the couch. The first time, I simply grabbed a blanket from my bedroom and covered her with it.
The next two times, I picked her up gently and carried her to her bed.
And I kissed her forehead before leaving.
She cooked for me once.
I came home, completely fucking exhausted. I had been working since five in the fucking morning, hadn’t eaten anything all day, and all I wanted to do was down half a bottle of whisky and hit the fucking sack.
The moment I stepped through the doorway, she saw that in me. She saw how fucking spent I was and that time, there were no games.
She helped me take off my jacket.
She whipped up some pasta, and we ate together. We shared a bottle of red too, and then I simply stumbled to my bedroom life a fucking zombie. Yeah, I was that tired.
When I woke up in the morning, I noticed my jacket neatly folded on the couch.
Right then, something broke inside of me.
That hardness, that resistance I didn’t even recognize I had...it just fucking broke.
Zero.
That’s how many things I’ve felt like this before. I’ll repeat it, just for good measure—I’ve never, ever, felt like this.
You can call it whatever you want.
Call it lust, affection, passion.
Call it love.
All I know is that I no longer want Vivian.
I need her.
Chapter Thirty
Vivian
I love being a lawyer.
I get to kick ass all day long and make billion-dollar companies bend to the will of my clients. I beat rich assholes into submission, and I’m paid handsomely for it. Sometimes though, it’s just so damn exhausting.
Today’s one of those days. Even though I have a small army of associates to do research for me, I always have to make sure I know the specifics of any case I’m working on. And, right now, I’m working on a shit ton of cases.
The moment I get home, I’m more than ready to collapse on the couch and simply forget that I exist.
“You’re home late,” Lucien surprises me, jumping off the couch and making his way toward me.
I sigh, wondering what the hell he’s prepared for the day. I’m just not in the mood for any kind of conflict tonight.
Though conflict doesn’t seem to be what he has in mind.
“Yeah, busy at work,” I merely say, throwing my purse on top of the couch. I kick off my shoes, sit down, and the smell of Chinese food immediately hits my nose. “Did you…?”
“I totally did,” he replies, grabbing two bags of Chinese take-out from the coffee table.
Holy shit. Does he read minds? The other day I was just saying I could imagine him doing something like this and, lo and behold, that’s exactly what he does—after a hard day at work, he surprises me by ordering food.
Doesn’t sound like a highly romantic gesture, I know...but sometimes, the simple things are the most telling.
“How about a truce for today?” He continues, sitting down next to me while he takes the food out of the bag and carefully arranges it on the small table facing the couch. “Let’s just take it easy for now.”
“That sounds about perfect,” I agree, a wide smile taking over my face.
Enjoying being this close to him, I get to it and start going through all the food. Since he wasn’t sure what I liked, he bought everything from noodles, fried shrimp, egg rolls, Kung Pao chicken, and God knows what else.
Works great for me, since I was ravenous.
Dinner seems to fly by us. We spend almost an hour just eating and chatting, doing it as if we had known each other for a lifetime. I only met Lucien a few weeks ago and, despite all the skirmishes we find ourselves in, I don’t think I’ve ever felt as comfortable around anyone as I feel with him.
Being around him just feels...right.
“Alright, let me clean this mess while you lay back and relax,” he tells me as we finish dinner.
“Let me help you.”
“I got this, doll,” he casually says, and I’m ‘forced’ to sit back while he takes care of the mess we did on the table.
When he returns from the kitchen, he’s holding two crystal glasses in one hand and a bottle of Pinot Noir in the other.
“Very gentlemanly of you.” I laugh as he hands me one of the glasses.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” is his quick comeback.
Next thing I know, he lays me down on the couch, my legs thrown over his lap. “As you already know,” he continues, gently placing both hands on my knees and sliding them down all the way to my feet, “I’m pretty skilled with my hands.”
I can’t help but blush at the comment, remembering exactly just how good he is with his hands—especially when we’re wearing no clothes—and then I exhale sharply as he starts massaging my feet.
Oh God, this feels so fucking amazing.
“Ah, this feels so good,” I whisper, making a very conscious effort not to moan.
“It’s fucking weird, but this is actually the first time I’m massaging a woman’s feet.”
“What? That can’t be true,” I laugh, taking a sip from the wine and allowing its oaky flavor to coat my tongue.
Handsome, knows how to do great massages, and has an excellent taste in wine—where has Lucien been all my life?
“It’s the truth.” He shrugs.
“Don’t tell me you never rubbed the feet of any of your girlfriends,” I laugh some more, the sound of my voice mellow and tired.
“I never had a girlfriend.”
“What?”
Did I hear him right? Lucien Parker never had a girlfriend. Did he take any drugs or something? That doesn’t make any sense!
“I never had any girlfriend. I never lived with a girl, and I never had a serious relationship,” he admits, his tone of voice lowering by the second. It’s almost as if he didn’t want to say it but couldn’t help himself.
“That’s...why not?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just not the kind of guy that does relationships, you know? I didn’t use to be, at least,” he suddenly adds, my heart almost stopping as I finally process the meaning behind is words.
&nb
sp; “Is that what we are doing? Are we in a...relationship?”
He stops rubbing my feet, looks me straight in the eyes, and opens his mouth to answer. Then he closes it off again, no word escaping his lips.
Before I know what I’m doing, I swing my legs off his lap and sit up on the couch.
Slowly, I reach for him, placing both my hands on his chest. Without saying a word and without taking my eyes off his, I grab him by the shirt and pull him toward me.
“I don’t know what this is, Lucien. All I know is that I need you,” I whisper, our lips so close together I can feel electricity crackling between both our bodies.
“That makes two of us then.”
With that, he closes the distance between the two of us and lays his lips against mine. With his arms around me, he embraces me tightly. I close my eyes as we kiss.
We stay like that, just gently kissing, for a long time. It’s weird but, in a sense, whatever it is we have goes beyond simple desire. There’s a connection here, one that I never thought I’d experience.
I’ve never been the kind of girl that believes in fairy tales. In fact, it was just the opposite. Growing up, I actively moved away from all the princess and knights in a shining armor.
I decided to make my own way in the world. Thing is, somewhere down the road I ended up throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Not only did I give up on the princess idea, but I think I also gave up on a happy ending.
Life is war. That has been my motto for quite a long, long time. But now, whenever I’m in Lucien’s arms, this philosophy of mine becomes irrelevant.
In his arms I feel safe, I feel protected. In his arms I feel...loved.
Happy.
“I need you, Lucien,” I breath into his ear as I go on top of him, straddling him. “I need you bad.”
Running one hand through my hair, he uses the other to push the straps of my dress down my shoulders. He pushes the fabric down to my waist, and then his fingertips slide up my spine toward my bra. He unclasps it, gently taking it off me.