Coming Home (17 page)

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.

Tossing the paper in the trash, he punched his finger into the intercom. “Seth, get Slade Bishop on the line.”

“Yes, sir.” A moment later the intercom buzzed. “Mr. Patras, I have Mr. Bishop on line one.”

He picked up the receiver and Slade was the first to speak. “Lucian, this is unexpected.”

“Is this really how you want to handle this?” Lucian asked, cutting right to the heart of matters.

“I don’t understand.”

“Cut the crap, Slade. I know you’re feeding the press. I have to say, I’m impressed with the size of your balls, but it will only make it easier when I cut them off.”

The other man cleared his throat. “Lucian, I read most of the articles, but I’m afraid you’re off on this one. I haven’t spoken to the media about you
or
her.”

Lucian calculated for a minute. He sounded sincere, but after the stunt his ex-partner pulled with Parker Hughes, Lucian would never trust Slade again. “And what of Labex? You have nothing to do with that either?”

“I heard about your deal with Green. I assumed it would be wrapped up by now. Am I wrong?”

Lucian frowned. If not Slade, then who? His brain compiled a list of variables. Who would want to see Evelyn dragged out in front of the masses? Nicole was suspect, but surely she’d know this would do nothing to win her favor. She also would have no interest in a company like Labex, which meant if she were the one slandering Evelyn, it was completely unrelated to the business deal hanging by a thread.

Who had the manpower and resources to poach Labex? One name came to mind, but that was so farfetched he dismissed it immediately. No way had Hughes climbed that fast. Impossible. Didn’t matter who his father was. Such rapid success was unheard of.

He realized Slade was talking. “. . . really like to sit down with you.”

As Lucian pieced together what he’d missed in the conversation, he almost laughed. “While I’m glad to hear you decided against interfering further in my personal life, I have to say I’m not flattered to the point of social calls. We passed that the minute you assisted someone I consider my enemy, lending yourself the same title.”

There was a pause. “Luche, I’m not your enemy. I never was.”

“We continue to disagree. I’ll let you get back to your work.”

As he leaned in to hang up the phone, Slade’s voice rung out and gave him pause. “I saw what you did to Hughes.”

Lucian drew the phone back to his ear.

Slade rushed on, assuming he regained his attention. “I saw what you did and I assume you got her back.”

“I merely collected what’s mine.”

“I want you to know, for what it’s worth, my role in the situation was . . . regrettable. I apologize.”

As much as Slade’s apology should count for something, it didn’t. His actions spoke louder than words, driving home the point that the man could not be trusted. “We’re through here.” He ended the call, thereby ending his association with Slade Bishop. One Judas down. How many more to find?

***

The email came through at three fifteen.

Jason Dodd

Mother: Rebecca Esperanto-Dodd

Father: John Dodd

D.O.B. September 2, 1981

Current Address: 2424 Glacier Place, West Folsom, PA

Previous Address: 192 Lenox Ave, Cincinnati, OH

Prior places of occupancy: Room 206, Parks Dormitory, Triton University

No criminal record.

No unpaid tickets.

Moved to Folsom last June. Currently employed with the 34th School district as a behavioral specialist. Vehicle registered in his mother’s name. Home leased through a man by the name of Gregory Lutz. Aside from residing within a couple miles of Ms. Keats, I cannot find any cause for association. How much deeper do you want me to dig?

-D.

Lucian replied via text.

Follow him this evening and see where he goes.

Dugan’s reply was immediate.

Already done. He left work at two forty. I’ve been behind the Toyota since.

Lucian frowned. If Dugan was texting, he was parked.

Where are you now?

The reply took longer than usual and before he read the message, his sour stomach already guessed the answer.

Knights Boulevard. She just got home from work.

“Son of a bitch!” Lucian cursed and stood. His hand shook as he texted Dugan back.

Stay there.

He went to his call log and dialed Evelyn’s number. The call went to voice mail. Shoving his arms into his jacket, he dialed again. Voice mail. “Evelyn, it’s Lucian. Call me as soon as you get this.”

He marched past Seth’s desk and jabbed his thumb into the elevator call button. “I’m going out.”

As he rode the elevator to the ground floor, he seethed with each call to her voice mail. Why wasn’t she answering? Why was that guy back at her place?

He exited the elevator in the cool shade of the underground garage. His keys filled his fingers as his thumb tightened on the fob. The chant of his Mercedes unlocking in the distance was followed by the purr of the automatic start. Folding his body, he slid into the buttery bucket seat and threw the car into gear.

Cutting his turns tight, he belted onto the main road and dug in the console for his shades. It was in the low seventies, so he pressed the control on the dash and the soft top lowered, tucking itself neatly into the compartment above the trunk.

The car sped out of the congested traffic and took back roads toward West Folsom. Sure enough, when he spotted the limo on the corner of Knights Boulevard, the Toyota was only a few spots ahead, parked.

He peeled into the spot, shoving forward the gearshift just before his bumper went into the Toyota’s ass. Jumping out of the car, he pocketed his keys and ignored Dugan’s raised, bushy brow. Enough was enough.