His expression fell. “Uh, I’m ’fraid I can’t break that, ma’am.”
“That’s okay,” Evelyn said in good spirits. “You keep it. Go get yourself some lunch and maybe buy something nice for yourself now that your afternoon’s free. I saw another vendor down that way selling gloves for a dollar, the nice warm kind.”
He looked at her hesitantly, his eyes weighing her sincerity. His gaze returned to the crisp bill being offered to him. She extended her arm a little more. When he still didn’t take it, she reached for his gnarled hand, opened his fingers, and closed them over the money.
“Thank you for all the beautiful treasures,” she said, and turned to find Toni.
Lucian’s sister awaited her with comic disapproval accentuating her posture. Evelyn had no regrets about her purchase. The change from the hundred dollars was worth the joy she put on that man’s face. The bag of treasures was just a bonus.
Her gaze caught on a small yellow taffy at the edge of the curb. Evelyn grinned and bent to pick up the overlooked treat left in the wake of the parade that morning, its waxy wrapper spreading a warm, nostalgic heat through her chest. When she stood and faced Toni, it was clear the other woman thought she was nuts. Evelyn didn’t care. The yellow ones were the best.
They walked from one end of Folsom’s classier district to the other. Evelyn’s toes were screaming to get out of her narrow-toed kitten heels by four o’clock. Thank God she had the good sense not to wear her dagger heels out today. If she had, she’d probably be leaving a trail of blood in her wake, which was still a possibility, even in kitten heels. Unless shoes had rubber soles she pretty much hated them.
By the time they neared the limo, Dugan was completely weighed down with boutique bags and designer boxes. Luckily, even the lacy wrappings of such a girlie outing couldn’t detract from his manliness. Dugan was a tree of a man and loyal to the bone to Lucian.
At six foot five, roughly three hundred pounds and not an ounce of fat, Dugan was all man. His gruff, thin lips tucked within the handlebars of his mustache gave him an unapproachable presence that allowed him the solitude he seemed to favor. His eyes, however, sometimes hinted at a much softer man beneath. She’d been working on getting his freak flag up for a while, but so far no such luck.
“Scout?”
Evelyn stilled and turned at the sound of her name. Scanning the pedestrians surrounding them, her eyes landed on the familiar, bouncing curls of Lucian’s friend Jamie. “Jamie, hi! What are you doing here?”
“I had a business lunch that was canceled, so I figured I’d walk around.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek, his Irish eyes smiling. “No Lucian today?”
She sighed. “No, he had some things he needed to take care of. Luckily I was able to find a stand-in.”
Jamie’s gaze lifted and traveled past her shoulder. The moment he spotted Lucian’s younger sister, a blank mask forcibly settled into place. Evelyn always got a kick out of observing the two of them dance around the sexual tension they shared. According to Lucian’s older sister, Isadora, Toni and Jamie had been playing this game of cat and mouse for years. However, poor Jamie was the mouse.
Do it already!
“Antoinette,” he greeted coolly.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Shamus the anus.”
He pressed his lips together. “Mature, Toni. I can see you’ve grown up quite a bit.”
Toni shrugged indifferently, but the proof of her embarrassment following her juvenile outburst was clear as her color rose and her lip quivered slightly. So much of that toughness was an act to hide her insecurities.
Looking back at Evelyn, Jamie asked, “Did you find some good sales today?”
Toni rolled her eyes and blew out a puff of air, clearly over her own issues. “I did, but Evelyn got ripped off. She bought some dirty man’s trash.”
It was Evelyn’s turn to blush. Toni was twenty-three, just like Evelyn, but they had led two very different lives until recently. There was an immature quickness to Lucian’s little sister that Evelyn wasn’t sure how to take sometimes. She laughed nervously. “It wasn’t trash. It was a collection of stones and eclectic silver spoons.”
Jamie’s jaw ticked. He was one of the few people who knew she had grown up on the streets. She never had the guts to ask him not to share that information. Evelyn looked at him pleadingly, hoping she wouldn’t regret never having that conversation with him.
“Well, for those not born with a collection of silver spoons in their mouths, they have to buy them somewhere,” he said succinctly, hitting Toni with a pointed look.
Toni let out a very unladylike sound. “You’re an asshole, Jamie.” She turned and marched away. “I’ll be at the car.”
Jamie rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind her. She’s too young to realize not everyone grows up with every request met at the drop of a hat.”
Evelyn didn’t see the point in mentioning she and Toni were the same age. She smiled tightly, acknowledging without words that he tried to casually come to her defense without giving too much away.
His eyes softened. “What did you get?”
Feeling silly now, she blew off his question as she swatted at a strand of dark hair blowing across her face and irritably tucked it behind her ear. “Nothing. Maybe it is junk.”
Jamie’s smile eased with understanding that felt a little too much like sympathy. Shame on her for letting all of Toni’s comments get to her.
“If you liked it I’m sure it isn’t junk.” His long fingers lifted and tucked the unruly strand of dark hair tightly behind her ear. His fingers pinched the edge of her chin affectionately. “Send Lucian my best. Dugan.” He tipped his chin at their driver before turning away, his blond corkscrew curls slowly fading into the melee of pedestrians shuffling over the pavement.
When she reached the limo, Dugan had already loaded their purchases into the trunk. Reluctantly, Evelyn climbed into the cab of the limo. Toni sat, arms akimbo, sulking on the far seat. Evelyn was tired. She missed Lucian and didn’t have the energy for his sister anymore today.
Without wasting time, Toni snapped, “He’s such a dickwad!”
Evelyn sighed.
“You know, I am not spoiled! I can’t help it if I have better taste than most people. I mean people appreciate my taste. I bet you didn’t know I was offered a job as a style consultant.”
Evelyn did know, because it was something Toni brought up often. Before she could comment, the girl continued. “You know, Shamus used to be fun, but now he’s just a miserable old fart.”
Shamus, or Jamie as he usually went by, was not old. But there was no stopping Toni once she started.
“He needs to get laid. That’s the problem. He dates all those plastic bimbettes and doesn’t have a clue about what good sex is.”
Evelyn thought about Toni’s string bean boyfriend, Peter. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t imagine him being able to masturbate satisfactorily let alone fuck above par. Toni continued to grumble and rant until they reached her apartment. The doorman stacked her purchases on a brass pull cart, and Toni kissed Evelyn’s cheek affectionately.
“Let’s do this again sometime, okay, Ev?”
Evelyn forced a tight smile. “Sure.”
Although so much of her current situation was new to her, Evelyn was coming to learn she could do without all the indulgent excursions wealthy people filled their time with. She was grateful for everything she had. According to her track record, she was very lucky at the moment.
She was secretly in love with the most incredible man she had ever met in her life. Her mother was finally getting the help she needed thanks to said amazing man. Evelyn was growing more literate with each passing day. And for the first time ever, she had a roof over her head she could depend on. It was wrong to complain.
Still, sometimes Evelyn wished she could hide away in Lucian’s
condo forever, safely sheltered from the rest of the world. She’d spent her entire life outside of walls. Now she wanted to be within them and stay there. But she knew that wasn’t healthy.
Being born on the streets, literally, addicted to the heroin that ran through her mother’s veins like water, she’d slept on benches, under bridges, in barrels, on playgrounds, and many more unsavory places that would scare the shit out of a normal girl. It was enough to last a lifetime. She’d be happy with never going out again now that she knew what inside felt like. She was a homebody to the extreme. Maybe she should talk to someone about that, her obsession with home sweet home.
Her concern that she might be developing some sort of unhealthy dependence on her home was distracted the moment the limo pulled up to Patras. Ah . . . home.
She reached for the latch on the door just as Dugan pulled it open. He held out a hand and helped her to the sidewalk.
As always, the Patras Hotel was bustling with life. The place had a pulse of its own. There truly was no need to ever leave.
The hotel was its own little metropolis, complete with clothing stores, restaurants, bars, salons, art galleries, and over one thousand guest rooms.
She stepped onto the gold-tasseled red runner that no longer intimidated her, and Dugan followed her to the glass doors held open by Philippe, who was dressed in Patras livery.
“Good evening, Mademoiselle Keats. Monsieur Patras left instructions for your packages to be left at the front desk and delivered to your suite later this evening. He also asked that you meet him at Vogue for supper at eight.” Vogue was the hotel’s main restaurant.
“Thank you, Philippe,” she said as she passed. Once they were a distance from the doorman, she turned to Dugan. “I only have the one bag. I can carry it. No need to bother the front desk.”
Dugan, who looked tired after an afternoon of following Toni Patras from store to store, cleared his throat. “Better do as Mr. Patras directed, Ms. Keats.”
She rolled her eyes. “No wonder you’re his favorite.”
The tiniest grunt of what could possibly be laughter sounded in his throat. “I believe the title of favorite has been given to someone else.”
She playfully batted his shoulder and sighed. “Oh, Dugan, you sweet talker, you. Fine. I’ll wait for it to be delivered.”
“Very good, Ms. Keats.”
She tipped her head at his unshakable formality. “One of these days I’m going to get you to laugh, like, really laugh. Pee-your-pants laugh.”
“I doubt that, Ms. Keats.”
She dug in her little clutch for her room key. “We’ll see. Take it easy, Big D.” Waving at him with her keycard, she turned toward the bank of elevators.
The sophisticated whispers of the lobby silenced as the elevator doors closed. She sighed and leaned against the bronze mirrored wall of the car as it rushed up thirty floors with a hushed hum. She loved the clean sent of the elevators, the way guests’ perfume sometimes lingered in the air over the scent of the smartly polished tiled floor.
At the quiet ping announcing her arrival, the doors parted. She exited the elevator and took the hall to the private bank of elevators that lead to the master suites. Sliding her room key through the slot, she entered the antiquated car that was more like a gilded cage than a means of transportation. Once she was on her way, she slipped off her kitten heels and moaned as the blood flowed back into her tired toes.
As she scooped up her shoes, fantasies of sliding out of her jeans and into her robe filled her mind. How long until Lucian would be home? If dinner was at eight she still had a few hours. Maybe she would nap. She hated when he wasn’t around. He made everything more fun.
The elevator slowed, eased to a stop and quietly opened. Stepping into the private entrance of their suite, she swiped her keycard again and entered the silent condo. The lights were off and the sun was fading, painting the gray shadows in a muted golden tone. By the door her shoes dropped with a muffled clunk to the plush carpet, and she removed her scarf.
Dropping her clutch to the table in the hall, she began unbuttoning her coat and heading toward their bedroom. As she focused on the buttons, a shadow passed by the blurred edge of her peripheral vision. Turning quickly, she screamed as hands suddenly grabbed her shoulders, forced her pivoting feet to reverse, and pressed her front firmly into the cool papered wall.
“Not a word,” a deep masculine voice whispered, soft lips pressing over her hair and into the shell of her ear. Panic gave way to relief as her ears recognized his voice at the same moment her nose registered his familiar scent.
Lucian.
“Your lover won’t be home for hours and I plan on having you several times by then.”
Her breath hitched as a strong hand snaked under the material of her coat and gripped the apex of her thighs. Her body caught fire. Firm hips pressed into her backside, grinding and forcing her flat against the wall as his palm fit into the crease of her jeans. The heat of his palm bled through the denim of her pants. She regretted that he hadn’t given her a chance to remove more of her clothing.
His grip on her thigh tightened, thumb pressing hard into a sensitive crease, massaging as she moaned, already growing aroused and needy.
“Shh . . . Lucian’s not here.”
Pressing up on the balls of her feet, she rocked into his grip and he chuckled. “Is that how it is? So ready to give yourself over to an intruder? Perhaps your lover hasn’t been keeping you satisfied.”
Her scarf was yanked out of her hands, the velvet a slippery tease between her fingers. Every bit of her flesh was suddenly hypersensitive and on alert. She gasped as her coat was jerked off of her shoulders, drawn back at the curve of her elbows, forcing her spine to arch, thrusting her breasts high. And that quickly he had her restrained.
The dim room suddenly went black as velvet covered her eyes, soft and cool over the arch of her cheeks. Her hair tugged as he knotted the scarf at the back of her head. Her heart ratcheted up as she could only anticipate what would come next. Would he be relentless, push her to the brink and tease her there until she begged him to finish her? Or would he be cruel and selfish, making the fantasy all the more real?
“Let’s see how many times I can make you come before your lover returns,” he growled, turning her quickly. The fast turn disoriented her. The wall pressed into her back and his warm lips crashed down over hers. Taking advantage of her startled gasp, his tongue breached her lips forcefully, taking from her greedily. Evelyn moaned and reached for his broad shoulders, but her coat was still in the way.
His lips tore from hers as a chill caressed her front, his touch suddenly absent. “Don’t move.” His deep voice was gravelly in a way he sounded only when highly aroused. It crawled over her senses like a physical touch and she shivered.
Breathing deeply, she pressed her back into the wall, fingers nervously opening and closing into fists. Wherever he was going she hoped he would be quick. Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness as her other senses sharpened. She could keenly hear his muffled footsteps over the carpet. They silenced as he paused and then slapped along the dark marble floor of their bedroom. He was barefoot.
She had barely seen him before he blindfolded her, catching only a flash before he was on her, depriving her of sight. She imagined him in the dark dress slacks he’d chosen that morning, shirt now wrinkled and rolled at the cuffs, collar undone and without a tie. Dressed down, buttoned up, naked, or bundled, Lucian always looked amazing.
The rich scent of coffee lingered from breakfast. The condo was cooler than usual. Did he lower the thermostat to heighten her anxiety, make the fantasy more genuine as though she were really walking into an abandoned suite with a stranger crouching in wait in the shadows? Once she considered the cold a chill took hold of her. Her shoulders trembled as her nipples tightened beneath her clothing.
The muffled sound of his footsteps
drew nearer and she licked her lips, tasting his unique flavor lingering there. Anticipation shivered up her spine as her heart beat wildly in her chest. She wanted to be ravished. How would he take her? There was no doubt he would have her trussed up and at his mercy within minutes. This was Lucian Patras. When he saw something he wanted, he took it. Asking was child’s play to him, something that took some getting used to for her, but over time she had learned to simply surrender where intimacy was concerned and she had never been disappointed. Even when Lucian took, he gave.
Would he be kind or relentless? Generous or demanding? He was a trespasser. Excitement allowed her to easily fall into the fantasy play. She focused on the sound of his breathing, the anticipation of him approaching. Her breath quickened as the heat of his body mingled with hers.
“What are you going to do?” she whimpered. It wasn’t an act. He had her so excited that her voice quivered on its own.
A large hand gripped her jaw, pressing firmly into the soft flesh of her cheek, and tilting her head back to an incredibly vulnerable angle. “I said no talking. I have ways to silence you if you can’t follow directions. Do I need to find something to occupy that sweet mouth of yours?”
Before she could answer, his tongue licked over the plump curve of her lips. She couldn’t stifle the moan that followed. She was incredibly aroused.
There was an unspoken security in playing with Lucian that gave her the courage to surrender, allowing her to let go, give over to him as if he were truly taking from her with no concern for her comforts or needs.
It was fun to pretend with him, because she trusted him to stay in control therefore giving her the gift of losing herself in the game. During her childhood she rarely played, so playing now, with him, was an endorphin rush she’d never known before. She loved it.
She wanted him to take. She wanted him aggressive. Her thighs pressed together tightly and she trembled with the sudden desire for him to rip her clothing away. She felt no shame. If things got out of hand, well, that’s why she had a safe word. All she had to do was call checkmate and Lucian would stop everything.
Breaking Out Page 3
