Falling In (31 page)

Chapter 42

The Menu

Lucian had shown Evelyn how to use the iPad he bought her and set it up with several reading games. She felt ridiculous, being in her twenties and playing such juvenile games, but she was actually learning quite a bit. He also left notes around for her to discover throughout the day. They were never written in cursive anymore and were only ever made up of small words.

She now knew that
L-O-V-E
spelled love. She was getting pretty good at sight words too. It helped that Lucian usually had meetings during the day, because that gave her time to practice without someone listening.

On New Year's Eve she visited Pearl. Lucian drove her, but waited in the lobby of the clinic, understanding that Pearl wanted to see Evelyn without him there.

Separating from Lucian, even for only a brief time, told her a lot about herself. She felt his absence and didn't care for the empty feeling. She'd not only come to depend on his being with her, she had come to depend on the shelter he provided. He blurred the lines of reality and took her away to a safe place where nothing bad could touch her.

Pearl was happy to see her the second time she visited, which meant more to Evelyn than any words could describe. She looked healthier than she had in years. She said the doctors had put her on steroids and an antibiotic and she'd gained a few pounds. Evelyn was both shocked and thrilled at her progress. Her mind seemed markedly sharper, but all of her optimism faded when the old Pearl showed up.

Her eyes had skittered to the door and then back at her. She gripped her hand and whispered, “Scout, baby, you gotta get me somethin'. I can't take it anymore. I can't sleep. I can barely eat. My muscles shake like my bones're gonna rattle right out of my skin. I got such pain in my belly, you'd scream if you felt it.” Pearl looked around nervously and tapped her emaciated arm. “I just need one hit and then I'll be all right. Just one, baby.”

Anger and disappointment welled up inside of Evelyn like a storm. Her eyes prickled with tears and she instinctively searched for Lucian, but he wasn't there. Her breath beat from her lungs fast and she couldn't seem to pull any back in. She felt sick. “No, Momma.”

“What'ch you mean no? I don't wanna be here, Scout! I hate it! It's like a prison and where're my things?”

Pearl rubbed her lips hard over her teeth and gums and quickly reached into her drawer for a piece of hard candy. You would've thought it was heroin itself the way she moaned over the sugar rush. She'd told her before that sugar somehow soothed the toothaches.

Evelyn took her hand and tried to soothe her panicky motions. “Listen to me, Momma. It's just temporary. Just a little while longer. You're getting better and soon—”

“Aren't you listening to me, Scout? I don't want to be here a while longer. I wanna go home! This place's killing me slowly. I don't fucking care anymore!
Do you hear me? I don't care!
I'd rather die than feel the way I do, but I'm too fucking weak to kill myself.”

Evelyn's tears spilled past her lashes. “Momma, it'll get better. I promise—”

Pearl flicked her hand off hers with surprising force. “What do you know?” Her mother sneered, her face distorting with hate. “I don't wanna get better. I want to go home! You don't know nothin' and it's you who's keepin' me here.
Get out!
Get out and don't come back. I ain't got no daughter no more! You hear me?”

Evelyn ran out of there like the hounds of hell were chasing her. Lucian comforted her the best he could, but his protective instincts rode him hard to do something in retaliation. She could feel it thrumming in him. There was nothing he could do. Pearl was her mother and she had the power to hurt her more than anyone else ever could.

They returned to the penthouse on the first, and as soon as they did, that sense of homesickness she'd been suffering disappeared. She tried to put distance between Lucian and herself, but he wouldn't tolerate it.

That night he had taken Evelyn's chin firmly in his hand while he was inside of her and fiercely said, “Look at me, Evelyn. I love you and you can't put up walls between us because love scares you. Keep all your words locked in, but silence does not make your feelings any less real. I will not let you put distance between us, so stop. Enough. I'm not Pearl and I will never abuse your love the way she has.”

He was right. She couldn't run from what Lucian and she shared, because her love for him would reach across any distance. Silencing her emotions did nothing to weaken what she felt for him. He ran through her blood. He was her drug of choice, and she'd likely rip off her flesh before she'd be able to give him up willingly.

She nodded and cried as they made love slowly. Although they had started out anything but gentle, they each needed the tenderness after his emotional allocution. As she had fallen asleep, she vowed to do her best and no longer categorize Lucian's love with the kind of self-serving love Pearl treated her to.

As Evelyn plugged along at her game, waiting for Lucian to return from his meeting, she thought about how much had happened in the past two months. Sometimes she missed Parker, but she tried not to think about him. She cared deeply for Parker, but he'd always laughed at her dreams of making it off of the streets and never showed much ambition to save himself. He was a dangerous person for her to care for, because he could so easily pull her back to the world she never wanted to visit again.

With all the improvements Lucian had made to St. Christopher's, things were better for her old friends than they had ever been. Lucian informed her every time he made some sort of shipment to the shelter, like on Christmas Eve when he had a truckload of toys delivered for all the children and forced Dugan to dress as Santa and hand them out.
Poor Dugan.

There was a knock at the door and she stood, shutting off her iPad. Still thinking of Dugan Claus as she opened the door, she grinned, but her smile was quickly replaced with surprise.

“Patrice, what are you doing here?”

“Hi. Mr. Patras told me to drop off the salon ledger. Every once in a while he does an audit of our books. He's known to be quite thorough. How's everything going with you?”

“Uh . . .” Evelyn stepped back and she entered the suite. Her soft floral scent was pleasant and familiar. “I'm doing okay.”

She hadn't seen Patrice since her last visit to the salon, the same day Lucian teased her about Patrice saying she had a sexy pussy. Her mind went to a place it really shouldn't. Realizing she was just standing in the door, she pasted on a nervous smile and said, “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Sure.”

Was this really about bookkeeping or was Lucian testing her? Memories of their last conversation regarding Patrice resurfaced. Evelyn found it difficult to look the other woman in the eye. If Lucian expected anything more than conversation to happen in her presence, he had another thing coming.

She poured two glasses of red and awkwardly backed out of the space and took a seat in a chair in the common area. Patrice filled the seat closest to the chair. “Cheers,” she said, holding out her glass.

Evelyn clanked hers to Patrice's. “Cheers.”

“To new experiences in the New Year.”

Evelyn emptied her glass in deep gulps. Where was Lucian? As Patrice prattled on about her day and a customer who dicked her on a tip, she refilled her wine and planned Lucian's execution. The more she drank, the more she convinced herself Patrice's presence was intentionally meant to throw her for a loop. She could hide a body. She knew lots of hiding places.

The door opened and she turned. Already feeling the effects of the two glasses of wine she had chugged in about two minutes, she stood.

“Darling!” she purred, narrowing her eyes. “You're back. Good thing. I was worried about you. We have a visitor.” Evelyn pressed up on her toes and leaned in for a kiss. When he pressed his lips to hers she bit him.

He pulled back and glared at her. “Behave yourself, Evelyn,” he muttered in a warning tone.

She blew out a puff of air and rolled her eyes. “Good luck with that.” She turned to flounce away and he grabbed her arm. The smack against her ass stung and her front was again pressed against his chest.

He took her mouth hard. His tongue forced between her lips and she bit at him. His hand squeezed the still-burning cheek of her ass and his fingers reached between her thighs and clenched over her crotch until she settled. He ripped his mouth away and gave her a warning look. He was obviously not impressed with her greeting.

“Don't be a brat.” He handed her a boutique bag. “I was going to save this for later, but I think I'd like you to wear it now. Go change. Dinner will be arriving shortly.”

Evelyn took the small bag from him and recognized the hotel's logo on it. She peeked in between the layers of black tissue and spotted pale pink lace. Lingerie.

“Lucian—”

“Evelyn,” he growled. “I do not like being accosted the moment I arrive home. Nor do I appreciate cattiness. You were disrespectful and you will not disobey me again or I'll toss you over my knee and show you what a real punishment feels like—in front of your friend. I suggest you choose option A.”

His threat scared and excited her. The image of Lucian bending her over his knee and spanking her was oddly titillating, but she was also wise enough to see that she'd pissed him off. If he were to spank her in the mood he was in, it might actually hurt. She huffed and turned to go change.

The sight of Patrice sitting on the chair watching them made her stumble. Being that she was upset with him for inviting her, Evelyn had no idea how she forgot Patrice was there. She hoisted her chin in the air, collected her glass, filled it again, and marched into the bedroom.

Taking a great big gulp of wine, she placed the glass on the dresser and eyed the offensive little lingerie bag. She remembered when she'd first met Lucian he'd told her that clothing was courage. Well, she sure hoped that counted for underwear, because she needed some. STAT.

Evelyn groaned as she pulled the wisps of lace from the bag. She turned the bag over and shook it, but nothing else came out except for tissue. She held up the dental floss doing a weak impression of panties and frowned. There were four loopy openings instead of three.
What the . . . ?
She turned it and realized they were crotchless underwear. The demi bra wasn't much better.

She stripped out of her clothes and slid on the lingerie. Looking in the mirror she nibbled her lips and evaluated the outfit, if one could even call it that. Her breasts were lifted and little half-moons of brown showed where her nipples peeked past the lace edging. The panties were delicate, pale pink with black lace scalloped edging below her belly. A thin black bow tied over the delta of her pussy and a white pearl nested in the satin knot. Nothing covered her sex, only two thin strings holding the garment together that rode along her lips.

She turned. A tiny little swatch of pink lace made a triangle above the crease of her ass. The rest disappeared between. Fuck. There was no courage here. There was barely coverage.

Spontaneously, she turned and went to her jewelry box. She found the string of pearls Lucian had given her for Christmas and wrapped them twice around her neck. She snapped the matching bracelet around her wrist and twisted her hair high on her head. In the closet she found a pair of black satin stilettos. She applied some gloss to her lips and walked as proudly as one could manage in such an asinine ensemble, into the common area of the suite. Thinking back to the special she and Lucian had watched on the Kennedy's, she imagined she looked like JFK's greatest fantasy, somewhere between Jackie and Marilyn.

Gratitude swamped her when she saw dinner had been delivered. It was bad enough Patrice had to see her like this. Lucian stood and there was a noticeable moment when he stopped breathing.

Huh, maybe there is some courage in lingerie. Magic undies!

He held out her chair and she gracefully sat. She placed her napkin over her lap with all the hauteur she could manage then frowned. “Where's Patrice?”

Lucian's eyes darkened as he sipped from a glass. “I sent her home. You look stunning, Evelyn.”

“But . . . I thought . . .”

He shook his head. “I know what you thought. I'm disappointed in the way you welcomed me home. You'll make up for that after dinner. Eat.” Her eyes never left him the entire time they ate.

She'd love to say the tilapia was delicious, but for all she knew it might've been pasta. He kept the wine and conversation flowing and eventually she forgot she was in her underwear.

When he wiped his mouth and tossed the linen napkin on the plate, she swallowed. Maybe she'd overreacted. Her breath filled her lungs as she considered what he might have in mind for her penance. Evelyn lowered her gaze as she realized her reaction to Patrice in their home might have been less about being sexually pushed and more about not wanting to share Lucian. Her brow creased as she examined this territorial side she hadn't realized she possessed.

“Can I interest you in dessert?”

She looked up at him, quite concerned about what he'd planned next. “No, thank you.”

He smiled under hooded eyes. “Why don't we have a seat on the couch?”

She stood and walked to the settee. The cool air of the condo played over her exposed curves. Lucian sat, pose relaxed as his elbow dangled over the armrest. He patted the space next to his thigh and Evelyn settled beside him. She was excruciatingly aware of her lack of clothing and was sure she wore a deep blush down to her barely there bra.

Evelyn stiffened as Lucian's lips pressed to her shoulder. “Do you remember our discussion when we last left Folsom?” he whispered, breath hot and teasing the escaped wisps of hair along her neck.