by Chloe Liese
Slowly, he slid his nose along mine, pressing the faintest kiss to the corner of my mouth. I felt it in my toes and my fingertips. Everywhere. I turned and tried to catch his mouth, but he pulled back, eyes roaming my face. Then another, faint whispering kiss to the dimple in my cheek.
He held me tight against him, and I squirmed, impatient.
“Hold still, you little minx.”
I snorted and was about to tell him there was nothing little about me when his lips met mine. I gasped when they did.
This. This was a kiss. This was unforgettable music. The perfection of mathematical proofs. This kiss changed everything.
He tipped his head, deepening our kiss, his tongue teasing me with slow, expert strokes. He moaned, and the reverberation against my tongue and lips made my body thrum.
Circuits fired beneath my skin as I pressed into him. My breasts tightened when they brushed against his crisp shirt, and a heavy ache settled between my thighs. I sighed as he released my mouth and covered my face and jaw, my neck and collarbone, with biting kisses. He walked with me in his arms until I landed on the counter. Cupping my arse, he hauled me against his body. His cock strained against his trousers, and he rocked against me.
He breathed roughly, his mouth moving madly over the sensitive skin of my ears and neck. “I can’t stop, Elodie. Make me, please.”
I cried out as he bent and sucked my nipple through the thin material of my top. “Don’t stop, please. Don’t you dare stop.”
I yanked his head up, grabbing his face forcefully and pulling him to me. I kissed him how I wanted to, swirling my tongue in deep tantalizing circles, then sucking his tongue like I wanted to suck his cock. He groaned into my mouth, crushing me against him as I devoured his mouth with mine. He cupped my breast, drifted a hand up and down my waist.
“So beautiful,” he whispered. “How are you so beautiful, Elodie? T’es plus beau que dix milliards couchers de soleil.”
I sighed as I kissed his jaw and breathed in his scent. He’d just told me I was more beautiful than countless sunsets. It was sweet bedroom talk, but it made me feel like liquid gold in his arms. No, hotter than that—I felt like molten lava. I palmed him through his trousers, and my mouth watered.
“Je veux te faire une pipe,” I whispered in his ear.
Lucas pulled back and stared at me, scandalized. “Elodie!”
“Oh, don’t act like such a prude.” I yanked him to me while he kissed me deeply, hands sliding through my curls. He might act perturbed by my filthy saying for how I wanted to suck his cock, but said cock felt very, very excited by my words.
The oven beeped loudly, shattering the moment. We broke apart, panting and heaving as our bodies separated. We were covered in flour, lips swollen, hair mussed.
I smiled at Lucas, who wasn’t smiling back. He was staring at me like he was preparing for a head-on collision. My stomach dropped, embarrassment flushing my cheeks.
I slid off the marble surface ungracefully because my legs weren’t working right. Opening the oven door, I removed the tarte flambée and set it on the cooling rack, before turning around. Lucas stared at the floor, rubbing his forehead. A streak of flour colored the back of his hand and his shirt front was wrinkled, a button pulled loose. Slowly, I walked up to him and tugged his hand down. Flour was everywhere. I swept it away, then stared up at him.
“Elodie,” he sighed.
I took a deep breath, and tried to prepare myself. I saw the regret in his eyes, and while it hurt my pride, I was as worried for him as I was for my own heart. He’d said himself that keeping distance was about protecting me, not rejecting me. That something made him believe he was unsuitable for a relationship. That still worried me more than anything else.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “I’m fine, but what just happened—"
I pressed a hand softly over his lips. I could be his friend, I could even love him from a distance. But he wouldn’t trust me. That hurt most.
“You call me your friend. What kind of friends are we when there is so much that stays unspoken between us?”
Lucas’s eyes searched mine, his expression pained and conflicted. “I don’t know. I’m…I’m trying, Elodie.”
I turned back to the kitchen. Wetting a rag, I began wiping flour off the counter, pulling it across the glossy surface. “Why don’t you wash up. I’ll do the same, and we’ll have dinner when we’re clean.”
“Elodie—”
“Please, Lucas,” I whispered, barely holding back tears. “Please just go.”
He stared at me for a long minute, as I bent my head and cleaned my mess, until he finally left me alone with my tears and a kitchen that resembled what my life had become—a wreck. Discarded by my parents, now I was throwing my bruised heart at the feet of a man who said he wanted to treasure it, but couldn’t.
I’d made an absolute mess of it. An absolute mess.
Seven
Elodie
The next morning, I sat quietly at Lucas’s breakfast bar, sipping my café au lait and reading through the business section of the paper. I’d tried to look up Farthington last night, but the internet kept disconnecting on me. After our uncomfortable episode in the kitchen, which ended in yet another blow to my pride, the last thing I wanted to do was ask him for his help or his insight into the company. I wasn’t overly prideful; I simply valued my independence. I’d do my best with what I knew, on my own.
I knew the parameters of the job, the sectors it served. Thus far, I’d made a few mental notes from the newspaper on the state of the market. Buttering my slice of the baguette Lucas bought at the store yesterday—obnoxiously sweet and considerate, that—I read the next section on recent acquisitions.
The now-familiar sound of Lucas thundering down the steps cut through my thoughts, but I made myself refocus on my breakfast and the paper. The sooner I got this job, the sooner I’d be out of his house and on my own. And judging by our dinner last night, that needed to happen immediately, for both our sakes. We’d sat quietly, eating the barigoule of summer vegetables and tarte flambée I’d made, sipping white wine Lucas had picked up and trying to make the quiet, intimate dinner not feel so bloody quiet and intimate.
We’d made conversation, though Lucas of course avoided talking about his afternoon spent away, and I, in retaliation, withheld any further information about my interview. It hadn’t been an easy meal.
Lucas rounded the corner and stopped abruptly. When I glanced over my shoulder I saw his eyes sparkling as they took me in. I sighed, and he took the hint, shuttering his expression and resuming his steps into the kitchen.
“Good morning,” he muttered, his voice a little deeper and rough from sleep.
“Good morning, Lucas,” I mumbled into my coffee cup.
Lucas banged around for a while in the kitchen while I read, then swept by and dropped next to me at the breakfast bar. The scent of him hit me hard as I breathed in. He smelled woodsy and a little spicier than his natural scent. Desire soaked my system and settled between my legs. I crossed them and brought the paper closer to my face. Subtly, I fanned my flaming cheeks with it, before I set it down to continue reading.
Lucas dove into a gigantic bowl of yogurt, granola, and fruit, alternated with swift gulps of steaming hot black coffee. Out of the corner of my eye I caught him repeatedly peering over at me, but I kept my gaze to the paper.
Clearing his throat, Lucas smacked his granola with the back of his spoon. “Elodie, I don’t want it to be like this.”
I flicked the top of the paper down and stared over at him. “Like what, Lucas?”
He sighed and dropped his spoon. “Distant.”
“Lucas, you’re the one who backs away, not me.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I’ve never been friends with a woman I’m attracted to. I have no idea what to do here. But I’m trying, because I care about you so much, Elodie. It guts me when we row.” He glanced at me,
his eyes pleading. “I want to keep your friendship. Desperately.”
Lucas looked…weary. He was still absurdly handsome, but there were smudges under his eyes from what had to be lack of sleep. His shoulders sagged. His whole demeanor was worn down. And while I recognized that the corner I’d painted myself into with my parents had plenty to do with shoddy boundaries—and I knew I needed to hold firm with Lucas, too—I hated to think my terse treatment of him, our uneasy détente, had contributed to his state.
“A riddle,” I said.
Lucas’s eyebrows lifted as he took a sip of coffee. He knew me well enough by now to play along. “Go on.”
“There are three kinds of people in the world. Those who know math and…?”
He frowned while he set his coffee down, then had a bite from his yogurt and granola as he thought about it. “Those who don’t?”
I smiled. “Well done, you.”
“Terrible,” he muttered. “That’s worse than Nairne’s chemistry puns.”
“Nothing’s worse than Nairne’s chemistry puns,” I said as I stood.
I brought my mug to the sink, rinsed it out, and set it in the dishwasher. Mood lightened, I leaned against the counter and folded my arms. “You’re my dear friend, Lucas. I’m not threatening to take that from you. It’s just that friends trust each other. I don’t know what you’re facing, and I’m not asking for your confidence out of some invasive need to be in-the-know. For one, you’re hurting deeply and I care about you; if I knew what was hurting you, I could be a better friend to you through it. And two…” I swallowed my pride and met his eyes. “It’s your justification for why we can only be friends. And I have a vested interest in understanding that too, given episodes like last night. The baptism. The wedding. In Edinburgh—”
“Yes, yes.” He sighed and scrubbed his face. “I’m well aware I’ve wrenched you around abominably. I don’t deserve your patience, I know that.” He dropped his hands and peered up at me. “For that I’m terribly sorry.”
I pushed off the counter and picked up my bag. Then, squeezing his shoulder affectionately, I planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I know you are, Loulou. Forgiven.”
Quickly, I left the house and began walking toward the metro. My phone rang soon after. I groaned when I saw who it was.
“Hello, Lucas,” I answered tiredly.
“Where in the hell do you think you’re going?” Banging in the background was followed by a door slammed shut.
My heels clicked along the pavement, reminding me of the purpose of my day. I was dressed for success, I was going to go get a brilliant job, then kick this year’s arse. “I’m walking to the metro station for my interview, Lucas. I told you.”
He sighed, and I heard the roar of his Aston from down the street. “Impossible woman. You know what I mean. I’m driving you; we’re going to the same damn place. You’re not taking the tube. You’ll look like hell by the time you get there, and every man within a mile radius of you will have ogled your arse in that bloody skirt.”
I stopped abruptly on the street. “And have you ogled my arse in this bloody skirt?”
I turned and saw him driving down the road, mobile up to his ear.
“Possibly,” he hedged. “But I can’t help it. I saw you try it on; I approved it. I’m simply attuned to that skirt’s fit around your arse.”
I stomped my foot. “Lucas! I’m getting to my interview by myself, and I don’t need your noisy car or your sexist comments mixing with my head.”
“Messing,” he said gently. “Messing with your head.”
His car caught up and slowed to a crawl, following my progress along the pavement. “Please let me drive you, Elodie.”
“No.”
“All right, how about this,” he said through the open window. “I’ll drop you off three blocks from your destination. You can walk there on your own, without me in your hair. You get your independence, I get my peace of mind. How’s that for a compromise?”
I turned to face him, weighing his offer.
“See?” He smiled, and it was devilishly handsome. “I can be accommodating.”
Those gorgeous eyes twinkled, sea glass and ashen gray. Their cooler hues popped against his three-piece charcoal suit, bright white shirt, and crisp argyle tie in complementary hues. He was too confoundingly dashing and stubborn to resist.
“Fine.”
The door popped open, I sat with a sigh, then we were speeding to the business district, on our way to my future.
Lucas dropped me off as promised, but since I saw how much time I had—and I didn’t trust him not to follow me—I made him drop me off five blocks away, unbeknownst to him. Then I took a detour, circling the buildings, inspecting their architecture, the names on top, the dress and demeanor of professionals as they flitted to and from their destinations. Finally I came upon the skyscraper where Farthington was housed.
A packed lift ride later, the door dinged open and revealed an inviting, modern office. Walls a soothing blue-gray, the furniture a mix of tufted leather and creamy linen. Midcentury tables and modern fixtures. It felt current and stylish but not pretentious. A power financier could walk in here, same as a small business owner, and both would feel comfortable and welcome.
Ample light spilled in and office doors sat open while people milled about, many of them greeting me with a warm smile as I walked slowly to the front desk. A kind-looking older woman, with sharp eyes and white hair, smiled at me over half-moon glasses before glancing back down to her work. As I met her at the desk, she looked up.
“Can I help you, dearie?”
I smiled. “Yes, thank you. I’m here for a nine o’clock interview with…Jack.” I winced, wishing I knew his last name. He’d never told me, and I’d never been able to look it up. Now I was embarrassed I’d referred to him so informally.
The lady nodded as if she thought nothing of it, though. She glanced at her computer, making a small clicking noise with her mouth as she searched the screen. “Elodie?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s me.” I smiled again, hoisting my purse higher on my shoulder.
“Excellent, right this way, then.” She sprang up from her seat and proceeded to walk briskly down the hall ahead, her kitten heel loafers sinking into the carpet.
We walked the floor, which I realized with satisfaction was a parabola. When we reached its vertex, we stopped outside a wide door that she rapped smartly on twice. “Jack, your nine o’clock is here.”
Immediately, the same warm voice I’d heard on the phone yesterday called out from behind the door. “Brilliant, send her in.”
She opened the door, gesturing for me to enter, and I was greeted at once by a tall, broad man with silver hair and a neatly trimmed matching mustache. He had warm hazel eyes and a kind face. There was something familiar about his demeanor, his welcoming physicality, as he strode toward me and offered me a large hand, soft with wrinkles and age marks. He had to be nearly seventy, yet he was impressively fit and straight-backed, even with a little paunch in his middle.
“Come in, come in, dear.” He waved me toward his desk and a chair across from it. Smiling at the lady who’d brought me, he dropped into his seat. “That’ll be all, Midge, thank you.”
She nodded, winking at me as she stepped out, and shut the door.
“Right then.” He clapped his hands together and smiled warmly at me. “Where to begin…Tell me about yourself, Elodie. What brings you to London? To Farthington?”
I took a deep breath, weighing my words. I could hang my hat on my family’s reputation, the places I’d attended, but that felt empty compared to what I really loved about my studies, and why I believed I was such a good fit for the job. I told him my vison for businesses, and what, not where, I’d studied to be able to implement that.
As I spoke, he never once looked away or checked the time. I had his entire focus, and I felt seen and fairly appraised as I finished my speech. Jack threw a few questions my way, offering me client and of
fice scenarios, asking me what I’d do. I felt I handled them satisfactorily, because he smiled and talked through my answers, seeming impressed. After my last response, he leaned his large frame on the desk and smiled at me cheerily.
“So you don’t have previous office experience beyond your internship, but that aside, you’re unquestionably credentialed. Your university marks are unheard of, and your recommendations from your work studies were glowing. You’re clearly very bright and driven…”
He cleared his throat and stared at me frankly. “May I safely assume you are connected to Bertrand Enterprise?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Yes.”
“You don’t wish to elaborate on that?”
I considered my explanation before I answered. “I don’t wish to rely on the weight of my family’s company to secure this job. I’d like my ability, my voice today, to be reason enough, if that makes sense.”
He nodded seriously. “Yes, Elodie. It does. And your words and achievements speak amply for your candidacy. In my book, you’re a shoo-in.”
I bit my lip nervously. I wasn’t familiar with that expression, a shoo-in, but it sounded promising.
“However,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “There’s a bit of a wrench in it all, and I haven’t quite put that to you yet. No, scratch that, I haven’t put it to you at all. You’re the first candidate who’s floored me, who I actually felt worth screening for this part, so bear with me as I find my way.”
He sat back, swaying in his chair as he drummed long, weathered fingers on the table. He smiled faintly. “Elodie, you’re being vetted for a position that will have you collaborating extensively with the next CEO of our company, forming a more modern and inclusive organization that fits this era and embraces its future, that equips our clients to do the same. Currently, I’m running the ship, but I’m retiring, and handing the reins to my eldest son. He’s spent the past year refamiliarizing himself with the organization after spending the majority of his career thus far in a very different line of work. Now, he’s preparing to take over for me, but six months ago he got some very bad news.”
