Falling In (7 page)

She flinched as he shouted.

Scout's mouth opened and her head shook at his accusation. Refusing to be bullied, she snapped, “You didn't send in a request for housekeeping.”

He stood and paced with the grace of a black panther. “I thought I made myself quite clear yesterday that you were to come here first thing.”

The arrogance of him! “How am I supposed to do that without a key?”

He scowled. “What happened to your key from yesterday?”

“We have to deactivate them at the end of each day and put them back in the bin.”

He sighed and walked to his desk, pulled open a drawer, moved some things around and then returned to her, holding out a new keycard.

“Here, don't deactivate this one. It's mine. Next time I tell you to be somewhere I expect you there on time.”

She bristled. “Mr. Patras—”

“Lucian.”

“Fine, Lucian, I'm sorry you see this as my fault, but I couldn't walk up to my GM and just say, ‘Oh, by the way, the owner of the hotel propositioned me yesterday and I'm to report directly to him with my answer. Please get me a key.' I would've lost my job.”

“I'm your job.”

“Well, I don't report to you,” she snapped.

He smiled slowly and there was a dark glimmer in his black eyes. “Everyone in this hotel reports to me, Ms. Keats. Now, you said you had an answer for me.”

Scout shifted uncomfortably. Her brain tried to keep up. She'd thought he rescinded, but now the offer was back on the table again. Objections from yesterday tangled with residual disappointment from the morning. Everything was happening so fast. A bottle of Patras conditioner fell out of her apron and she bent to pick it up. He beat her to it.

“Are you stealing from me, Ms. Keats?” he asked jokingly, tipping back her apron with one long finger to see her plundered items.

She scowled at him. “I told you I don't steal. I didn't have time to get my supply basket. My GM was quite adamant I stop everything and go to you right away.”

“Wise woman,” he said, removing the rest of the items from her lap. He invaded her personal space more and more every minute. Once each little bottle sat side by side on the table across from them, he sat back and looked at her.

“Now, your answer . . .”

Her certainty wavered. Yesterday she was reluctant, but this morning she'd been so certain her answer would've been yes when she thought the offer was no longer a possibility. Buying some time, she took a deep breath. “I need to know how you see this working out.”

He grinned, apparently already tasting victory.

“If you agree to my terms, I'll arrange for you to stay here at the hotel until our arrangement is over. You'll have a house credit, which I'll pick up the tab on. That'll allow you to use Patras's restaurant, bar, spa, salon, gym, pool, room service, and the boutiques downstairs. My driver will also be available to you if you wish to go into town for shopping or lunch. I expect you to be available to me for social functions and whenever I desire your company.”

“Right, company,” she said dryly, never forgetting his broad understanding of the word.

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “That's right, Evelyn, company. I am a very private man and I find crowds . . . tedious. Do you play chess?”

“Chess? No.”

“I'll teach you. I'll also expect you to be pleasant and agreeable.” His assumed power over others' moods baffled her. “I don't tolerate lateness, so I expect you to be on time. If it takes you three hours to do your hair, arrange for it. When I ask you to be somewhere I expect you there on time.”

He was barking out his demands so quickly she had trouble keeping up. “What about my job?”

“Your job's secure. I don't see you needing it when I'll be providing everything you'll need, but it's there if you choose to return to it.”

Scout could never put that much trust in another person. She feared becoming indebted to a man like Mr. Patras more than anything. This was not a man you fucked with. “I want to keep working.”

“No.” He didn't go into detail or offer any reason why she shouldn't work, he simply forbade it.

“Then I'm sorry, but this isn't going to work. I need this job.” She prayed he wouldn't call her bluff. While his offer would provide more necessities at a faster rate, there was no stability to their agreement.

“There's no reason for you to work while our arrangement stands. If you're worried about not having a job when we end the agreement, don't; I have no intention of forcing you out of your position.”

“It's not that. I need to work. I have responsibilities. I understand if you don't want to attend social functions with a recognizable employee from your hotel, and if it embarrasses you I can find work somewhere else—”

“I'm not embarrassed by your job, Evelyn. You come to work every day on time and put in an honest day's effort. I simply don't see the need for you to work when I'll provide everything you need. If it's a matter of paying your rent, I'll supplement it while you're staying at the hotel. I want you close for my convenience.”

Her stomach cartwheeled nervously at his unspoken insinuation. “I'm sorry, I can't live with that. If it's the amount of time my job takes up, I'd be willing to ask my GM to cut back my hours temporarily, but I can't give it up all together. What if I somehow managed to only work twenty hours a week instead of forty?”

“Ten.”

“Fifteen.”

“Nine,” he countered.

“Nine? You went the wrong way!”

His eyes narrowed challengingly. “Eight.”

She huffed. “Who works eight hours a week?”

“Seven.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Scout threw her hands in the air, completely exasperated. “Fine, ten hours, but I need to see if that's even possible.”

“Consider it handled. Now, do you have any other conditions?”

She thought about Pearl. “I need two afternoons a week to myself.”

“Fine. Why?”

“None of your business.”

“I thought I explained that everything in my hotel is my business.”

Scout folded her arms over her chest, mimicking his stubborn posture. “Well, that time won't be spent in your precious hotel so it doesn't count.”

“Careful, Evelyn.”

“Two afternoons or the deal's off.”

His eyes narrowed, but she held his gaze. If this was going to happen, she couldn't continue to let him intimidate her.

“I don't believe you,” he whispered, eyeing her critically.

“Try me,” she said slowly, assuming her best poker face.

“Fine. Take your two afternoons for now, so long as they don't impose on my scheduled time with you. Now, let's talk about sex.”

Her breath siphoned down the wrong pipe, and she choked. He patted her back as she sucked in tight gulps of air and coughed. Hand pressed to her chest, she leaned forward.

Lucian stood for a moment and returned, offering her a glass of water. She gulped half of it down and placed it back on the table, wiped her eyes, then turned on him.

“What?”

“Come on, Evelyn, you're a big girl. You knew what this was about the moment I suggested it. Eventually you
will
be in my bed, so let's just cut to the chase and put everything on the table. You seem like a straight shooter so I'm just going to lay it out there. I like control. Lots of it. I'm a healthy, virile male. I enjoy sex and like my female to be available to me whenever the mood suits me. She must know how to prepare herself for me and I expect her to see to my needs and grant me control. Now, I know that sounds like a lot, but I promise I've never had any complaints from my partners. Does this sound like something you could agree to?”

She gaped at him. How did one even reply to such a statement? She knew sex would be part of the deal, but he was so blasé about it. She'd thought they would agree to do the deed once every few nights. What he suggested left no room to hide. “You expect me to have sex with you whenever you want?”

“Exactly.”

Scout reached for the glass of water and chugged the rest, then placed the empty container on the table and stared straight ahead, unable to face him at the moment. He stood, retrieved a silver pitcher and refilled the glass.

It wasn't necessarily the control thing that bothered her. He'd have to be in control. She was clueless and inexperienced. Dear God, the thought of him touching her . . . A warm, buttery sensation tightened her stomach.

Her face was burning up. Taking the freshly filled glass, she held it to her forehead, resting her elbows on her knees.

“Is the idea of sleeping with me that upsetting to you, Evelyn? I like to think I'm a fairly good-looking man for my age.”

“It's not your looks,” she mumbled, still unable to face him.

“Then what's causing your hesitation here? Tell me and I'll fix it. I have no intention of sleeping with anyone else while our arrangement stands and the same will go for you.”

She snorted. She couldn't help it. “Oh, that won't be a problem.”

He didn't seem to see the humor. “Good. I also plan on having my medical records shared with you after you visit my physician and have your own physical done.”

“Physical?”

Scout hadn't seen a doctor since she was eleven and visited the hospital with pneumonia. It was a horribly frightening experience being that Pearl had left her there and taken herself on a five-day bender. They had to escape once she sobered up enough to realize her abandonment of a hospitalized daughter had attracted the notice of Children & Youth. She had no desire to voluntarily step into another medical facility ever again.

“If you can't commit to having a screening, Ms. Keats, I'm afraid the entire arrangement is off.”

Back to Ms. Keats again. She sighed inwardly. What if they discovered something terrible? Her mom was sick and she never allowed herself to forget that, but what if she'd somehow contracted hepatitis or some other illness? Knowing what diseases did to people, she wasn't sure if she could handle that kind of stress, but on the other hand she was rarely sick. Her body had a high threshold for pain and a fairly tough immune system based on her track record. If she were sick, there would probably be symptoms. Maybe it was best to know.

“Okay, I'll see your physician.”

“Good. I'll make the appointment for this afternoon. Are you on the pill?”

Everything was moving so fast. “The pill?”

“Birth control.”

“Um, no.” She couldn't look at him, but sensed her answer disappointed him. He'd likely be disappointed about a lot of things once he discovered how ignorant she was about this sort of stuff.

Again, he jumped topics without warning. “Now that we have the majority of our agreement taken care of, how about if I order up lunch and make some calls? The concierge can get your room situated and I can inform Ms. Jones about your schedule change. After that I'll have Dugan bring the car around and we can do some shopping for any personal items you might need.”

Before she could answer, he was already moving to his desk and ordering lunch. She thought about Parker. He'd be worried sick if she didn't return to St. Christopher's this evening. Why hadn't she told him this was a possibility the night before? Oh, right, because he'd never understand.

Lucian put a call in to his physician and had lunch ordered and on its way within minutes. She excused herself to use the bathroom and when she returned, he was on the phone with someone else and room service was delivering lunch. This time they carried in a sharply dressed table and two chairs.

“Right there's fine, gentleman,” Lucian said, and the men quickly placed the trays on the table and backed out of the room.

One man made eye contact with her before the door cut off his view. It was incredible, the amount of shame and judgment that swamped her in the span of that brief glance. Did they know?

“Wonderful, Ms. Jones, I'll let her know.”

Scout turned at the mention of her general manager's name.

Lucian hung up the phone. “Your new schedule's been arranged and you'll be occupying suite 3000, just below. A key's being sent up.”

She simply stared at him. She always knew money made anything possible, but actually witnessing its influence was something else entirely. And now Tamara will know what she'd done.

Lucian stood and went to the table. He acted so nonchalant about all of this. Was this something he did all the time? How many women came before her? How many would come after? She figured ignorance was best in situations like this. Too much self-examination and she'd worry herself into a moral meltdown.

Chapter 6

Check UP

After lunch there was another visitor, Dr. Vivian Sheffield. Once Scout was over her initial shock that Lucian could arrange for house calls at the drop of a hat, she realized Dr. Sheffield was intimidatingly striking. The doctor also seemed to have a standing rapport with Lucian on more than a professional level.

They moved to the sitting area and she waited silently, not quite sure what would happen here.

“Did you bring it?” Lucian asked.

“I did.” Dr. Sheffield gracefully sat on the edge of the club chair, her one long leg crossing delicately over the other. She lifted her briefcase and removed a folder.

“Here are all your most recent test results.” She passed the file to Lucian who in turn passed it to Scout. “You're in perfect health, Lucian, but you already knew that.”

She smiled charmingly at him, her deep red lips curling softly over her pearly teeth.

Lucian looked at Scout. “Go ahead and see for yourself.”

Opening the blue folder, Scout found a typed list of sorts and pretended to read it. Turning page after page at what she hoped was an appropriate reading pace. Somewhere around the fifth page, Dr. Sheffield gazed over at her, her long neck extended gracefully, and her sophisticated diamond stud earrings winked in the light.

“Oh, you don't need to read that, Ms. Keats. That's just the HIPAA contract.”

Scout blushed and shut the folder, handing it back to Lucian. He grinned and tucked the folder away on the seat next to him. “Ready?” he asked, looking at her.

Scout felt incredibly stupid. “For?”

“Dr. Sheffield came to take your blood work and give you an exam,” he said as if it were obvious.

“Here?” No hospital?

The doctor smiled empathetically. “I assure you it'll be quick. And don't worry. I'm excellent at drawing blood if needles bother you. It'll be quick and painless.”

Growing up the way she had, needles were the least of her worries. She had gotten over any squeamishness years ago.

Scout turned to Lucian. “Where will you go?”

He frowned. “I'm not going anywhere.”

The doctor hesitated a moment then gently said, “Lucian, perhaps Ms. Keats would be more comfortable if she had a little privacy.”

“That's ridiculous. I'll be reading all her results anyway—”

“But I'm sure you can understand this must be a bit awkward for her. I'll take her to your spare room and we'll return in a few moments.”

The way Dr. Sheffield handled him amazed Scout. The next thing she knew they were sitting alone in the spare bedroom of the suite and Lucian was waiting, alone, in the common area of the suite, sulking.

They sat on the edge of the bed and Dr. Sheffield softly said, “Do you mind if I call you Evelyn?”

Scout shook her head and the doctor's kind eyes softened.

“Okay, Evelyn, let's start with a few questions. Be as honest as you can and I want you to know that if at any time you change your mind about sharing this information with Lucian I'll respect that. You're my patient and as such, how much information I share is completely up to you. However, I won't lie. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” The doctor opened up a new folder and picked up a pen, quickly jotting down some words.

“How long since your last physical?” She waited with her pen poised just above the paper, eyes on the folder.

“I've never had a physical.”

Dr. Sheffield moved to write then stilled. “Excuse me?”

“I've never had a physical. When I was eleven I was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia, but that was it.”

“Surely, you had physicals when you were younger in order to get your vaccines.”

“If I did I don't remember.”

Dr. Sheffield blew a deep breath past her red lips. “Okay, let's start with some general background information.”

Dr. Sheffield asked her about her family's medical history. Scout didn't want to tell her about Pearl and other than that she didn't have many answers. For almost everything the doctor asked, Scout said she didn't know, and she could see her frustration mounting, but the doctor never became short with her.

After she'd asked Scout a long line of questions, she listened to her heart, looked in her nose, mouth, and ears, examined portions of her skin and pressed her fingers along her spine. It was odd being touched in so many places by a stranger.

Dr. Sheffield wrapped a cuff around Scout's arm and pumped it full of air until it hurt. After making some notes she asked, “How much do you weigh, Evelyn?”

“I don't know.”

Her brow puckered. “Okay, let's have a look at your legs and stomach. Do you mind lying down for a moment?”

Scout scooted onto the soft bed and eased onto her back. It was the most comfortable place she'd ever rested her head. Shutting her eyes and going to sleep was tempting.

The doctor gently lifted her legs and bent her knees, checking her range of motion. “I'm just going to feel around your organs for a moment. My hands may be a little cold.”

Scout's back pressed into the mattress as if she could somehow save herself from being touched in such intimate places. Dr. Sheffield's contact was clinical and quick. She pressed into her stomach at various places, asked if anything hurt.

“When was your last menstrual cycle?”

“It ended three days ago.”

“Have you ever been pregnant?”

“No.”

“Are you on any form of birth control?”

“No.”

“Are you currently sexually active?”

“No.”

Her pen quickly moved across her notes as she recorded each of Scout's answers.

“I know they don't have a scale here, but I'm a bit concerned about your weight, Evelyn. You're quite thin. Do you diet?”

“Not by choice.”

Dr. Sheffield stilled. Her gaze slowly met Scout's and understanding dawned. “When's the last time you've eaten, sweetheart?”

“We just had lunch.”

“And before that?”

She swallowed. “The day before, when Mr. Patras offered me lunch.”

“Do you usually only eat once a day?”

Tears of humiliation blurred her vision. Refusing to be ashamed of who she was, Scout looked the beautiful doctor in the eye and admitted, “When I'm lucky.”

She closed her folder. “I see. Does Lucian know this?”

“I don't believe so. Are you going to tell him?”

She sighed. “No, I don't believe I am. Lucian's been my friend for many years. I think you'll find he can be difficult and demanding most of the time, but he's a good person. I promise to keep this between us if you promise to see me in another two weeks and have a little more meat on your bones by then. Fine dining's a vice of Lucian's so it shouldn't be a difficult task.”

“Okay.”

“Now, I was going to ask about your last gynecological exam, but I'm assuming you never had one of those either.”

Scout shook her head.

“Would you mind if I examined you quickly? I can't perform a pap, but I can at least see if everything looks healthy.”

“Do I need to undress?”

“Only partially.”

“Okay,” Scout said and Dr. Sheffield stood to lock the door. Scout unbuttoned her dress and the doctor directed her to lift her arms. Dr. Sheffield examined her breasts and Scout's cheeks flushed with heat. She explained how she should perform her own breast exams monthly and then instructed her to button back up.

Once her gown was back in place, true mortification set in. Lying back, she lifted her skirt and Dr. Sheffield looked at parts of her no one had ever seen. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die. The doctor touched her there and Scout thought she'd pass out from embarrassment. It lasted too long, but at the same time didn't take more than a few minutes.

Dr. Sheffield removed her gloves and tossed them into the wastebasket as Scout adjusted her clothes back in place. Looking at her, worry marred the doctor's otherwise perfect face. Her lips pressed together as she seemed to consider her next words.

“Evelyn, are you being coerced into this?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you here of your own free will?” she asked, as if the words pained her to say.

Scout recalled her mentioning that she and Lucian had been friends for a long time and understood her discomfort at asking such a thing.

“I'm here because I agreed to be. Mr. Patras didn't blackmail me or anything like that if that's what you're worried about. Why, is something wrong?”

“I hope you don't mind my saying this, but you do understand that he expects to be intimately involved with you, to my understanding.”

Scout nodded. “That's why he wants me to have a physical. Am I sick?”

“No, sweetheart, you're not sick. You're a virgin.”

Well, duh.
“I know that.”

Dr. Sheffield's little red mouth hung open for a moment, and Scout imagined this was likely the weirdest checkup she had ever performed.

“Does Lucian?”

“Well, no, but I don't see why that's any of his business.” And it wasn't.

Dr. Sheffield rested her head in her hand and massaged her forehead. “Oh, Lucian,” she mumbled to herself. Taking a deep breath she sat up, professional mask back in place and said, “Okay, all we have left is the blood work. How are you with needles?”

“Fine.”

After her blood was drawn and capped off in neat, tiny vials, and the doctor had given her some reading material on birth control, which Scout would never read, they returned to the common area of the suite. Lucian was pacing by his desk and pivoted the moment they stepped out of the room.

“What the hell took so long?” he demanded.

“I do a thorough job. Don't fret, Lucian, I'll bill you for every minute of it.”

The doctor's charming demeanor was back intact and her finesse with Lucian soon had him calming down. Scout admired the way she could maneuver him with such unfaltering poise. The doctor collected her belongings.

“So far, everything looks good. I'll have the blood work back by the morning. You can call my office for the results. I'll be sure to leave instructions with my front desk.”

“Thank you, Viv. I appreciate your promptness.”

Dr. Sheffield paused for a moment. She turned to Lucian and cryptically said, “You know, Lucian, a little patience never hurt anybody. Sometimes things are worth not rushing into.”

As soon as the doctor left, exhaustion set in. Scout's shift would've ended hours ago. She had been running nonstop for days and wanted to lie down.

Turning, Lucian said, “Let's go shopping.”

Scout tried not to wince. Did this man ever stop?