Locked on her, Lucien immediately tightened his hold around her waist. “Scared again?”
Sophie opened her mouth to snarl a disagreement, but right then, Owen said, “Mom, did Daddy like to play in the snow like this when he was a kid?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Emma replied. From her peripheral vision, Sophie saw the redhead plant a kiss to the top of her son’s head. “You would have to ask Lucien. He’s the only one who would know.”
Lucien let go of Sophie, his arms falling dead to his sides. Sophie watched the ruddy color from the morning of play drain from the man’s face.
Whoa.
Chapter Seven
Goddamn fucking shit.
Lucien swallowed down every shout he wanted to roar in Emma’s face. He had already sickened himself with the knowledge that he would eventually share private stories about Josh with Sophie, but he’d decided to save that for a time when it would best serve to ensnare Sophie deeper into his plan.
This was why he never should have come outside. This was why he should have made a better effort to seclude Sophie from the daily running of his home. He should have taken better control guiding and manipulating what he allowed her to do and see, and when those things happened.
Lucien glanced at Emma, and an apology lived in every inch of her face. Lucien’s attention drifted down to Owen, and the kid’s hopes for just a little bit of information filled his stare. The greenish hazel shade, which swirled enough gold within to match Josh’s eye color more closely than Emma’s, cut through Lucien’s heart. Shit.
“Your dad did like to play in the snow when we were boys,” Lucien finally shared. Memories of better days assaulted his thoughts and thickened his words. “We used to have this giant silver saucer that we would use to ride down the hills in our backyard together.”
“Cool!” Owen spun and grabbed his mother’s coat. “Mom, can we buy a silver saucer too?”
As Emma tried to explain to the boy that there wasn’t really anywhere they could use a toy like that on Raven Island without sending someone over a cliff, Lucien turned back to Sophie and the thousand questions she tried to hide by averting her gaze.
Crap. It’s not like she hasn’t figured out at least the basics on her own by now.
The truth of that didn’t make it any easier to push the information past Lucien’s raw throat. “Owen is my nephew,” Lucien shared, the confession snapping her attention back up to him. “Yes, we share blood. My brother is his father.”
Sophie’s pupils flared and nearly drowned out the ocean of blue. “That’s what you almost let slip to me last night.”
Lucien shoved his hands into his pockets to cover the fists he kept making. “Yes.”
After opening and closing her mouth twice without a peep, Sophie—Lucien could see the wheels turning as she carefully chose each word—finally said, “Owen is your nephew, not your son, but he lives with you.”
“No,” Lucien corrected, keeping his voice low, although it was clear the others had already engaged Owen in another game. “He lives with his mother, who happens to work for me.”
Sophie’s cheek sucked in, as if she chewed at it from the inside. “But your brother…”
“Josh.” He filled in the name for her.
Nothing significant registered on Sophie’s face or changed her straightforward curiosity. She just nodded and said, “But Josh doesn’t live here.”
“No.”
Clearly still gnawing on her inner cheek, Sophie looked to Owen. Her gaze softened as she stared at the boy; when she came back to Lucien, her brows furrowed together, and she started rubbing at her neck. “So your brother”—she stopped with her lips pursed together for a moment—“I mean Josh…”
“Is dead,” Lucien finished for her in a clipped tone.
All that dewy empathy Sophie had let slip when looking at Owen immediately shifted to Lucien. “I’m so sorry.”
Sophie reached out, but Lucien stepped back before she could touch him. The move away from her came automatically to Lucien, an instinct to reject any useless attempt to comfort. He could not control his mind and body’s effort to recoil and shield itself from attempts to weaken him with kindness or suggestions that he move past the loss.
In front of him, Sophie still offered that small, wavering smile. “Was he your only sibling?”
Lucien nodded jerkily. “Yes.” Suddenly a thousand other things seemed more important than standing here jawing the day away. “Excuse me, would you?” Unable to pull the gesture back, he bowed. Formally. Stupid. “Playing is nice, but I have to get back to work.” He couldn’t keep the hardness out of his voice or manner. “Maybe you should too.”
After doing an about-face, Lucien strode back into the house just as pissed at himself as when he’d gone outside in the first place. He had just a few hours to get his head on straight again and begin weaving Sophie back where he wanted her in his web.
Josh deserved Lucien’s best effort at revenge. Failure was not an option.
Sophie stared at the open space Lucien had just occupied, her heart in a whirl of aching tightness for his loss. At the same time, his implication that she wasn’t working hard enough during her stay at Raven Island poked at her pride. Mostly, though, she wanted to know more. Not only about how he’d lost his brother and the pain he’d clearly not yet learned to manage, but about everything. He frustrated the heck out of her; she could not deny it. But how he captured her interest too. More than any man she’d ever met.
“Don’t take his tone or disappearance personally.” Magnus’s advice snapped Sophie out of her thoughts. She blinked and found the big man standing next to her. “Lucien doesn’t like to talk about Josh with anyone. Pretend it never happened. Don’t push him on the subject, and you’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know if I can stop myself.” The confession slipped out of Sophie exactly as she had the thought, no filter to draw it back in.
Magnus slid his stare from the house to Sophie, and the hard glint in his eyes startled her. “The choice is yours. But know that if you choose to dive into Lucien’s head and his heart, then you have to be prepared to stand strong against everything he throws at you. Because it will be a lot. In order to keep you at arm’s length, he will push you to places that are very uncomfortable. And he will likely gut you clean through, all without any guarantees that you will get to the blue skies on the other side. If you’re just a little bit curious because you’re stuck here, and only because it’s in your nature as a news producer, then don’t do it.” Having a heart attack would not have made this moment more serious. “Lucien has already gone above and beyond for those of us who work for him, often more than once. We’re very loyal. If you open him up and then you walk away, you will make more enemies than just Lucien.”
Every time Sophie started to believe she had a handle on Lucien and this castle’s inhabitants, something new knocked her right off her precarious ledge. Good Lord. Who was this man to inspire such devotion in his people? Heck, rather than scare Sophie off—although honestly, her shivering grew with every sentence Magnus had spoken—in the end, Magnus had only ratcheted her need to peel back the layers of the master of Ravenstoke even more.
“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” she whispered. Her mouth had gone dry as she’d listened to Magnus.
“I hope so.”
With her hands shoved into her jacket pockets, Jade jogged up to Sophie and Magnus. She eyed them both, and her shoulders hitched a bit before speaking. “Emma’s dragging Owen inside to warm up and get some dry clothes on him.” Already near the door, Emma and Cale each held on to Owen’s hands and swung the boy between them. “She wanted me to let you know that if you do the same, she’ll have a hot lunch on the table in about a half hour.”
After murmuring a deep, “That sounds good to me,” Magnus hunched his shoulders against the wind and made fast strides back to the house.
Jade remained standing with Sophie, and she somehow managed to look
stunningly beautiful with cold-chapped cheeks and a shiny pink nose. A lavender skullcap protected her head from the cold, but wisps of her short raven tresses clung to her temples and neck. She smiled at Sophie, glanced to the house, and sort of rocked back on the heels of her furry boots.
“Oh! Sorry.” Sophie shook her head and looked toward the heavens. “You’re waiting for me. Yes. I could definitely use a shower and some fresh clothes.” Suddenly with every small shift Sophie made, she became aware of icy, wet denim clinging to her legs. “I will definitely do it quickly. Tell Emma I’d be grateful if she set a place for me.”
“Excellent.” Jade began walking backward to the door. “We’ll see you soon.”
Just as Sophie took her first step toward the castle, movement behind one of the second level windows caught her attention. This time, no beaming ray of sunlight skewed her view. Lucien, for just a split second, had stood at one of the windows. Maybe, just maybe, watching me.
Not quite so disinterested after all. Sophie resumed walking, this time with more bounce in her step. Lucien didn’t have to worry about checking up on her from through a window; he would see her again soon enough. And when it happened, she would get more than his agenda out of him. She would discover his secrets too.
Move me wherever you want me on the board, Mr. Cabot. Sophie grinned to herself as she walked up the grand staircase to her room. Just be prepared for the consequences when I make my countermove. Royce had taught her the game of chess very well. Right now she would let Lucien make the big moves. Absorb as much as she could about him by watching him unfold his game plan. Then, as long as she still had one strong piece left in play near the end, she would make her move.
She just had to hope she could keep from falling too hard for Lucien by the time she said checkmate.
* * * *
Lucien sent off an e-mail responding to a question from Joan—the woman who’d purchased the major percentage of his club in DC. A wealthy figure in society had abused one of the subs employed by the club, and Joan merely sought reassurance in how she’d opted to deal with the transgression. Lucien had chosen well in the people he’d sold majority stakes to in each of his clubs and had been happy to agree wholeheartedly with Joan’s choice. Didn’t mean he couldn’t help the woman out a bit more, though.
His study door swung open, and without looking up, Lucien said, “Magnus, can you get Titus on the phone for me?” He mentioned a major player in society who ranked even higher than the one who’d caused trouble for Joan. Titus was a regular and as close to what Lucien would call a friend among his customers. A man as big, bruising, and brooding as any guy Lucien had met who wore a suit every day, Titus enjoyed taking the whip across his back as well as the handle up his ass, at least once a week. “I don’t want this asshole for one second thinking he can use his power to intimidate Joan. Titus will make him shit in his hundred dollar underwear before he even thinks about making a threat again.”
“It’s not Magnus.” Sophie’s voice, already so familiar, filled the study. Lucien snapped his attention up and noticed pink filled the cheeks of the woman standing in his doorway. “It’s just me.” As she walked past his desk, the hem of her skirt—a red concoction with hundreds of tiny pink flowers with green leaves—swished around her knees. “Here to do some work.”
Lucien cleared his throat. “Suit yourself.” Damn, though. Saliva filled his mouth. A white long-sleeved T-shirt, knee length skirt, and black ballet flats shouldn’t make a man’s cock twitch, but as Sophie sat down at the table and crossed one leg over the other, the picture she made sure as hell did just that. Lucien almost went to adjust himself and even to apologize, but at the last second stopped himself. Now is as good a time as any to test her limits. One glance at his watch told him that Magnus would return soon. That worked into his plan too.
Still behind his desk, Lucien sent a quick text message to the rest of his staff and then said, “Take off your bra for me.”
Sophie looked up at him, and her blink was so exaggerated Lucien almost laughed. “Excuse me?” she said, her tone as clipped as it could be.
Lucien planted his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers. “You heard me. You want to know a little bit about what goes on at Ravenstoke?” He raised his eyebrows right back at her. “Then take off your bra for me.”
“Absolutely not.” Sophie shot to standing as quickly as she’d sat down. “Next you’ll want my panties. Then I’m naked, and you’ll no longer take me seriously.”
Lucien kept his gaze measured on hers. “I’ve seen everyone who works at Ravenstoke naked. More than once. Are you saying I consider them a joke?”
“No.” Sophie flinched, and he knew he had her. Then she lifted her chin again and showed him the flashes of fire in her ocean eyes. “But they’re also not trying to get a story from you.”
His smile came slow and easy. “You didn’t seem worried about the fate of your story last night.” He inched her ever so carefully closer to the edge of the cliff.
“You’re right. I wasn’t.” With those four words, Sophie took absolute responsibility and knocked Lucien on his ass. “That was impulsive on my part.” Her head didn’t angle quite so proudly anymore, and it was as if giant waves washed through her gaze. “If you choose to see me differently now as a result, then that is my fault.”
Damn it. He’d wanted to poke her into a fiery response, not push her into a shell.
Lucien got up to lean against the edge of his desk, directly across from where she rested her hip against the conference table. He slid his hands in his pockets and tried his damndest to dial back the intimidating image he often projected. Hell, the one he could admit he’d originally wanted Sophie to see.
“Respect and sexual attraction aren’t mutually exclusive,” he shared, gentling his tone as best he could. “Maybe you haven’t let yourself be sexually adventurous enough, or spent time with the right people, to know that yet.”
That got the life back in her, and new flames licked into her glare. “And maybe you haven’t been in an affiliate newsroom where more often than not the male anchor still gets all the tough-hitting stories. And maybe you don’t realize how often female journalists and producers still get called sweetheart and honey by the older men who continue to run the show.”
Lucien settled against the desk more comfortably and crossed one foot in front of the other. “Except I’ve already given you the story.”
Sophie arched one of her beautifully shaped brows. “You could just as easily take it away if I do something to anger or displease you.”
One low growl kept Lucien’s fuse from firing, but he did not cover the lethal softness in his tone. He couldn’t. “Be very careful, Miss Emerson. You just implied my word has no value. Very few people get away with such a charge.”
A rosy hue flushed Sophie’s golden skin. “I’m not questioning your word in particular. I’m just trying to think with my head and not”—she glanced down and, perhaps without realizing it, shifted in a way that rubbed her thighs together—“other parts.”
Lucien chuckled, something from his gut. The realness of the spontaneous response, something he rarely let himself experience anymore, warmed his system all the way through. “It’s nice to know other parts are getting some consideration.”
After laughing softly too, Sophie murmured, “I think you saw last night that they are.” Even lower, she added, “That’s what worries me.”
Going on years of instinct in dealing with people skittish about their sexuality and where that meant they stood in the world, Lucien stepped behind his desk and then grabbed a sheet of paper. “Fair enough. I concede all of your points.” After twisting the point out on his pen, he jotted down a half-dozen pertinent sentences and then strode to Sophie. “Take a look at this.” He slapped it down on the table next to where she leaned. “It states that I grant you the right to tell the story of Ravenstoke, how it came to be, and about William and Jude.” He dated the piece of paper and sc
rawled his signature across the bottom. “Sign it”—he looked at her, holding out the pen—“and secure your story.”
Sophie snatched up the paper. After silently reading, she held the sheet by the corner and narrowed her stare on him. “This thing won’t hold up in court.”
His growl rumbled a little louder this time. Lucien planted his hands on the table on either side of Sophie and caged her in. “Understand me.” Only inches separated their bodies and mouths, and Lucien’s lips barely moved as he spoke. “It will never have to.”
Footsteps sounded behind them. Sophie’s pupils flared just as Magnus said, “Whatever it is”—the man moved into the study and to his desk without breaking stride—“if Lucien signs it, he means it. We all have unique contracts, and Lucien has never challenged them.”
Lucien kept Sophie trapped in the prison of his arms. “Up to you.” He eyed the paper still in her hand. “Your move.”
It took a minute, but Sophie wedged her hand between them, offering him a handshake. “All right. We have a deal for a story.”
Lucien clasped his hand around hers and worked like the devil not to imagine its firm hold wrapped around his cock. Didn’t work. His shaft responded as if she’d stroked his length. Taking a breath, Lucien withdrew his hand under the pretense of handing her his pen.
After signing the impromptu contract, Sophie tried to return it to him. Lucien put up his hands. “You keep it,” he told her. “You’re the one who needed it.”
“Thank you.” Sophie slipped it into one of her work folders. “I will.”
With that settled, Lucien was finally about to see how much sweet little Sophie was willing to play. He hungered for her, and his cock already burned to take her deep right here on this table. He reminded himself not a damn bit of this was about him; he had other plans to execute today. No better time than now.
With Magnus typing away at his computer, Lucien locked in on Sophie and said, “I don’t want your bra anymore.” Now that they had her concerns about the story at rest, Lucien let the wolf out to mark his territory. “I want your panties instead.”
A Perfect Storm Page 10
