Falling In (18 page)

Chapter 22

Handle With Care

Lucian came into the bedroom only minutes after Scout had changed and climbed under the covers. Her pillow was damp with tears. The whisper of his clothing was the only sound as he quietly undressed in the dark, and then the mattress dipped as he climbed in beside her.

He slid over and pressed his body into hers. His mouth kissed her shoulder. “I'm sorry, Evelyn.”

She sniffled. “Why? Do you want me to go?”

He sighed. “No, but I need to know you're here because you choose to be, not because of anything I'm providing for you or because you feel coerced. I know, in the beginning, that was all this was supposed to be, but my needs are changing. I need to know you're here because you want to be.”

She turned and faced him, squinting to see his face under the shadows.

“Lucian, when people find out my background they're automatically going to think I'm a gold-digging charity case. As someone who's never had money, I can assure you I want it, but only if I earn it. That's why I work. Being with you isn't the same. I'm here now because I like being around you.

“The clothes, the fancy dinners, the perfumes and expensive salon treatments, they're all very new and exciting, but none of it's necessary. You like eating at fancy places that require appropriate clothing. I'd go with you in my jeans and sweatshirt if I knew it wouldn't embarrass you.”

“Evelyn—”

“Let me finish. I don't mean to say you're shallow, I'm just saying you live in a different world than I'm used to, one I can't afford.

“I could fill days with free things for us to do and still be very happy having your ‘company.' When I came to you the other night it was by choice, not obligation. You've never made me feel like a paid-for whore. Please don't think of all those gestures as deposits for my time. If you start thinking of our association that way it'll only make it true. As much as I respect money and the power it wields, it's not why I'm here. Something's happened in the past few days—I'm not sure what—but I
want
to stay.”

He touched her cheek. “If I ever make you feel indebted, tell me. I do those things for you because I want to, because I don't know any other way to show I care.”

“I know.” She smiled in the darkness and leaned in to softly press her lips to his. He stilled for a moment as if she surprised him, then slowly leaned into the kiss.

He pressed her back into the mattress as his mouth moved over hers with deliberate slowness. Her thighs pulled together as a small fire began to burn in her belly. His hand gently coasted over her hair and down to her shoulder. Something about his touch was different, softer.

Lucian tenderly stroked her arm and she waited for him to move further over her. When he didn't, she gently took his hand and placed it on her breast again, taking him by surprise. He paused for a moment, then kissed tenderly down her throat. Scout arched into him as he palmed her breast over her nightgown, massaging pleasantly, but not taking it any further.

She sensed his need, yet when she tried to touch him, he diverted her motions and subdued her with a slow kiss. This went on and on, her trying in her own inexperienced way to timidly push things further, and him, the aggressor, gently rebuffing her efforts.

Their kisses fell into such soft caresses she grew sleepy. Lucian caressed her skin with long, soothing strokes. She felt as if she were being hypnotized. Eventually Lucian softly eased away and whispered good night. She was confused, but exhaustion made it difficult to figure out exactly why. Frowning into the darkness, her thoughts slowly faded into dreams.

Chapter 23

Asshole

Lucian left early the following morning. Scout woke to find the bed cold and him dressing quietly in the dark. He said he had meetings downtown for most of the morning and suggested she spend the day enjoying herself. He told her how to order breakfast and recommended if she got bored she visit the boutique downstairs for a bathing suit and go for a swim in the hotel pool. She didn't do any of that.

Scout had a long bath and figured out how to use a blow-dryer. Her hair doubled in size and curled. She liked it because it was different, but she wasn't confident enough to actually leave the room that way.

She spent an hour practicing putting on makeup. She got a little carried away with her eyes and ended up washing it all off and starting over again.

For breakfast Scout ordered a bagel and an ice cream sundae. She was amused with her disregard for social order and three square meals until the attendant that delivered the sundae looked at her judgmentally. Then she felt juvenile and stupid. Luckily, the ice cream was exceptional and it soothed her embarrassment.

She dressed in jeans and a sheer blouse, then changed into a tight skirt with a loose green sweater and wide brown belt. Scout stood in front of the long mirror in the guest room and tried on one pair of shoes after another.

As she zipped up a sleek pair of leather boots, there was a knock at the door. Not wasting time removing the boots, she scampered to the front door and opened it. Her pleasant, easygoing mood evaporated.

“Ah, Scout,” Slade greeted dryly.

“Lucian's not here.” She stepped behind the door, wishing she'd left her jeans on and not changed into the short skirt.

“I'm aware. He should be here soon. He asked me to wait for him.”

It didn't feel right having someone else in the penthouse. She'd come to think of it as hers and Lucian's space, their hideout, like a little tree fort above the city.

“Oh, come in.”

Slade stepped into the suite, and she shut the door. He walked to Lucian's desk and deposited some papers there.

Lucian didn't like people around his desk.

When he turned on her, Scout froze. They stood, facing off for a moment, then he moved to the bar and helped himself to a drink.

Gently, she sat on the edge of the settee, very aware of her posture and forcing her knees together, trying her best to mimic Dr. Sheffield's confidence. He turned and openly scrutinized her as he sipped his drink.

“How long did Lucian say he would be?” she asked nervously.

“He didn't. He said he was on his way.”

She mouthed a silent
oh
.

“This must be quite different from Saint Christopher's.”

Nothing like making an uncomfortable situation worse.

Scout decided then and there that Slade was a dick, and he wasn't going to intimidate her. “How is it you know Lucian?”

“We're partners,” he said and offered no other explanation. Did Slade own part of Patras? Lucian had said he had sisters, but mentioned nothing of a brother. Was Slade a distant cousin or somehow a member of the Patras family? Perhaps by marriage. She looked at his hand. No ring.

“How long do you plan on being Lucian's . . . guest?”

She was distracted from her thoughts by his question. He said “guest” as if he were substituting it for a much more derogatory word.

“Um, we didn't really discuss a time period. I suppose as long as we enjoy each other or until we no longer do.”

“No doubt you'll be enjoying the lap of luxury for a long time. Money does have a way of broadening one's tolerance.”

Scout glowered at him. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I'm just pointing out that the appeal's tipped in your favor. Where will you go once Lucian's done with you? It's a long way back to the dirty floor of a shelter from the top.”

She was speechless. Eventually, she said the only thing she was sure of. “You don't like me.”

“No. I don't.” There was no hesitating about his confession.

The door opened and Lucian walked in. He was speaking on his cell phone and nodded in acknowledgement at Slade, then leaned down to kiss her temple. Slade relented with the stink eye and she took the opportunity to slip into the back room. She couldn't expect everyone to approve of her, especially when, like Slade, they discovered where she had come from.

Scout found the remote control on the table and turned on the television. TV was something she had rarely enjoyed. She couldn't find the show about Gilligan, so she put on cartoons. The cat chased the mouse and the mouse always got away. She settled onto the bed and watched, thoroughly entertained.

Laughter bubbled past her lips when the mouse caught the cat on fire. She wanted to catch Slade on fire. Smirking, she imagined him, in his tailored suit and fancy shoes, hopping around like the cat on the television as his devil tail smoked. She grinned evilly.

After the cartoon with the cat and mouse, a new skit with a roadrunner came on. This one was more frustrating than entertaining. Lucian knocked on the door and she quickly shut off the television.

He smiled and looked at the blank screen. “What were you watching? I heard you laughing.”

“Oh. Nothing.” Scout moved to the edge of the bed and adjusted her skirt, the move distracting Lucian's gaze.

“Slade's invited us to dinner.”

After her initial shock, she deflated. She'd missed Lucian all day and now that he was home she wouldn't be able to enjoy him. He was different around other people. Even when they'd visited his house and Slade left, he wasn't the same as he was when they were alone. Jamie was his oldest friend and she could even see a difference in Lucian in his presence.

“Do you not want to go?”

She could tell he wanted her to go. “No, of course I'll go. I just want to change.”

He stepped close to her, his front pressing into hers as he ran a finger under the low-hung neck of her sweater.

“I like what you're wearing,” he whispered.

Scout thought he would kiss her, wanted him to. With the high heels of her boots, she could almost reach his mouth. Pushing onto the toes of her feet, she leaned further into him. Her palms glided up his chest and over his shoulders and he gently circled her wrists with his fingers and stepped away.

“Slade's waiting.”

When he left, she sulked, not understanding why he no longer seemed attracted to her. It wasn't fair, because she was growing more attracted to him by the hour.

Thinking about the night he took her virginity, she decided part of her adverse reaction was due to fear and ignorance. She didn't think it would hurt as much the second time, now that she'd already had him inside of her. But she was beginning to think she might never find out. Lucian seemed determined not to touch her.

They took the limo to a tiny, dimly lit French restaurant called The Speakeasy. Scout was silent on the drive over and sensed Slade judging her a little more with every mile. Lucian seemed oblivious to his friend's distaste with his choice in “company.”

Since the menus were in French, Lucian declared that he would order for her. She didn't tell him that the language was irrelevant.

“Perhaps Evelyn would care to try some escargot
,
” Slade said.

Lucian narrowed his eyes and ignored his friend's comment. When Slade called her by her real name he did so with theatric snootiness. She didn't know what was worse, the way he said Evelyn or the disapproving way he spoke when he called her Scout.

Being a glutton for punishment, she asked, “What's escargot?”

“It's a delicacy,” Slade said with a reptilian smile. “You should try it.”

She looked at Lucian, who was reading the menu. “Snails,” he said without looking up, sensing her question.

Her lip curled and she glared at Slade. He chuckled and perused his menu. “It does require a more
sophisticated
taste,” he grumbled under his breath snidely.

Did he think she was unaware of the difference in their backgrounds? She figured it was time to put an end to the cryptic jousting.

“You know, where I come from, if you ate bugs you're considered crazy, but you rich folk pretty it up with some fancy French name and feel superior. Seems, since I'm the one who's never been dumb enough to eat a snail, the sophistication rests on my side of the table.”

Lucian chuckled and she smiled at him. With mirth in his eyes he turned to his friend. “Don't be a prig, Slade. She'll make you regret it.”

Slade's color rose from warm caramel to the color of fresh maple syrup. He gave up his campaign to make her feel like a fool for the time being and she tried to enjoy as much of the meal as possible.

Lucian ordered lamb with a delicious mint jelly. There were baby carrots in some sort of glaze and tiny roasted potatoes. A person at a nearby table ordered snails and Slade looked at the dish longingly. She enjoyed thinking that it might've been her snappy comeback that made him too apprehensive to order the dish.

Scout one. Slade zero. Suck it, asshole.

Rather than take the limo back to Patras with them, Slade hailed a cab and headed home. Lucian pulled her to his side as they rode back. “Your friend doesn't like me.”

“That's not true,” Lucian said, holding her fingers in his where his arm draped over her shoulder.

“Yes it is. He told me.”

Her fingers dropped.

“Slade told you he didn't like you?”

“Yup.”

His eyes moved as if he were thinking. “Well, he's full of shit.”

“Lucian, it's okay. I don't expect all of your friends to like me. Parker doesn't like you.”

“That's different. I understand why Parker doesn't like me. Slade has no reason—”

She faced him. “Why does Parker not like you?”

Taking a moment to process her interruption, he frowned. “Because he's in love with you.”

Her smile faltered. “Wha—Parker's not in love with me.”

He stared at her for a long time. No words. It seemed everything he needed to say was in that meaningful look.

Scout was still reeling from Lucian's comment when they returned to the penthouse. She went to the bedroom and pulled out a nightgown and began removing her clothes.

Lucian came in quietly behind her and undid the clasp at the back of her bra. Moonlight formed puddles of blue on the floor around them. She turned slowly in his arms and faced him. His knuckles caressed the side of her breast and he watched as her skin drew taut. He gently stroked the side of her other breast.

Scout's chest rose and fell slowly with each breath. He reached down and took the gown out of her hands and slipped it over her shoulders. Not knowing what else to do, she docilely let him pull her arms through the straps and waited. He kissed the corner of her mouth and stepped back.

“I have some work to finish up.”

She tried to hide her hurt, but she was really beginning to develop a complex. Nodding slowly, she climbed into bed. She didn't hear Lucian come to bed that night.

When she awoke next it was morning. Masculine voices from the other room mixed with the scent of coffee. After using the bathroom and brushing her teeth, she slipped a bulky Patras robe around her and knotted the front. The thick fabric engulfed her. The robe formed a train as she crept into the hall hoping to sneak discreetly into the guest room where her clothes were.

“Evelyn.” She stilled. Lucian came around the corner and kissed her hair. “Did you sleep well? Come and have breakfast.”

He took her hand, the billowy sleeve falling over their clasped embrace, and led her to the common area of the suite. Great. Slade was there.

Lucian gestured for her to sit at the couch and placed a dish in front of her. He lifted the top and there were two sunny-side eggs and a fat slice of French toast topped with strawberries.

Lucian's eyes creased with mirth. “Since the French toast is already rich, I figured you might want to skip the chocolate sauce this morning.”

Confused, she glanced up at him. He smiled and placed an ice cream sundae next to her plate, sans the hot fudge. She blushed and he chuckled.

He left her side to return to his business with Slade. They made a conference call while she ate and listened, not really paying attention to what was being said. Once finished eating, she was stuffed. Slade nonchalantly tossed a newspaper on the table and her gaze immediately focused on the large picture on the page folded to the front.

It was Lucian, smiling, holding a gorgeous woman in his arms. The woman was smiling up at him, her dark hair a billowy cloud behind her curvaceous body, her dark eyes staring into Lucian's smiling face adoringly. Scout's delicious breakfast settled into the pit of her stomach like acid.

She couldn't tear her eyes from the picture. He wore the pinstripe suit she recalled from the other day when he had “brunch.” This was a recent photo. Memories of asking him how his meeting had gone and the starry gleam that filled his eyes took on a whole new meaning. He said it went good . . . really good.

Scout's teeth clamped together and she breathed hard through her nose as she glared at the paper. Not wanting to draw attention to the issue she was having, she laced her fingers together and held still so she didn't
accidentally
shred the image and throw it across the room.

The conference call ended and Lucian excused himself to use the restroom. Slade settled in the chair across from her triumphantly.

“She's quite breathtaking, isn't she?”

Scout glared at him, refusing to be baited.

“Lucian cares very much for Isadora. Have you met her yet?”

Have I met her?
No, she hadn't met her! Her limbs began to tremble. Lucian was right. Slade didn't dislike her. It was way more than that. He hated her.

Lucian came back into the room and stopped, noticing her upset.