by BETH KERY
“You will, because you must,” he told her with a pointed look that was softened by a fond smile. “You’re going to love her.”
“I know,” she said irrepressibly.
“How do you know?” he said, chuckling as he stood and came around the desk.
“Because you bought her for me,” she said. He looked surprised when she rushed him and threw her arms around his waist. When she glanced up after she’d given him a hug, she saw that he was also pleased. His arm slid around her back. He reached up and touched her cheek softly.
“You look radiant,” he murmured, caressing her. “It’s like holding on to sunshine, having you in my arms.”
Warmth flooded her at his off-the-cuff compliment.
“It must be the beauty rest you’re getting every night,” he said.
“If it is, it’s the beauty rest you give me,” she said breathlessly, feeling lightheaded at suddenly finding herself in his arms. She arched against him provocatively, pressing her breasts against his ribs and chafing the tips by rubbing back and forth an inch or two. She felt his body stir. A low sound of satisfaction purred in her throat.
His expression hardened. He gently peeled her arms from around his waist, ignoring her frown as he moved away.
“From a few things Denise has said to me, I gather you haven’t told her about moving into the penthouse.”
“That’s right,” she said. “I thought you’d want me to keep it a secret. Was I wrong about that?”
“Not at all. But we hadn’t discussed it. I want to thank you for being discreet. You technically work for Denise, not me, but she is my employee. I wouldn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, or that the situation is unfair in any way.”
“I would never allow our relationship to interfere with my training,” she said resolutely. He didn’t reply for a moment, and she reviewed what she said. She blushed. “Not that we really . . . you know . . .”
“What?” he prompted
“Have a relationship,” she said, glaring at him. Her scowl deepened when his smile returned.
“It’s too bad you don’t think so, as I usually don’t ask women I’m not in a relationship with to move in with me.”
“To the spare bedroom,” she added under her breath.
“Pardon me?” he asked politely.
“Nothing.”
“Is there something you want to ask me?” he prompted. His sudden intensity confused her. Why was he always asking her that? She shook her head stubbornly. She’d be damned if she begged him to take her completely . . . to claim her. He either wanted her or he didn’t.
“All right, if there’s nothing. There’s something else I thought I should mention, even though I’m sure it’s not necessary. You showed so much discretion with Denise and the other employees here at Fusion,” he said as he picked up an envelope from his desk.
“What do you mean?”
He glanced up and she sensed the tension he’d been trying to disguise as he rifled through his mail with seeming distraction.
“I spoke with Ian a few moments ago about our fencing practice tomorrow. He and Francesca are coming here for dinner tonight. Ian mentioned Francesca wants to speak with you about setting a time and date for a run.”
The silence pressed on her eardrums. She was beyond grateful and excited over the fact that he’d bought her a horse, but something about this topic sent up a warning flag in her brain. Suddenly, she was absolutely certain that this issue over Ian and Francesca was the real reason he’d called her back to his office, not the gift of the horse—or at least the horse had been secondary.
“And you wanted to make sure I didn’t spill anything about moving into the penthouse with you to Francesca, either tonight or when we get together for the run?” she clarified.
He shrugged. “It would seem odd, wouldn’t it? For you to be living with me after such a short period of time?”
“You’re worried that you won’t be there during the run to monitor me with Francesca.”
He gave her a bland look. “As long as we understand each other.” He casually strolled around his desk as he opened a piece of mail.
“I’m not sure I do understand,” she said slowly.
He froze and glanced back at her, his gaze hooded.
“What do you mean?”
“Why do you care so much what Ian Noble thinks? Why are you so . . . interested in Ian Noble, period? Does he have something you want? Are you maneuvering for something? Business-wise?”
“Of course not.”
“Why can’t you just tell me what you’re doing? Maybe I could help you.”
“Drop it, Elise.”
She blinked at his sharp, quiet command. She didn’t want to ruin this moment after he’d told her about the horse, but something uncomfortable fluttered in her chest and settled like lead in her belly. She’d grown up in an atmosphere of deceit and cunning. Every move her mother or father ever made was premeditated, designed for a specific result. She knew Lucien had grown up under similar circumstances. Worse ones. Lucien’s father could have taught Machiavelli a few things.
“Ian Noble has got nothing to do with you—with us,” he said.
She made a scoffing sound.
“I refuse to be blackmailed,” he said. “If you feel that it’s so imperative, go to Noble and tell him what you think you know.”
“Oh, right. And then you’d toss me out on my butt,” she said hotly. Had he just asked her to stay with him at his penthouse because he wanted to have something over her head to keep her quiet? Was it just more convenient for him to keep her under control if she was nearer to him?
“There’s no question of me tossing you out. Don’t get worked up over things that don’t concern you. Not everything is about you, Elise.”
“I know that!” she said, stung. “I just don’t understand why you’re being so secretive.”
“It’s not up for discussion. You either trust that I’m not up to something harmful, or you don’t. I’ll leave that up to you,” he said, sitting down at his desk. He opened a leather-bound journal and a pen and began to enter some numbers.
She’d been dismissed.
She turned and stalked out of the office, feeling bewildered and irritated over the combination of his thoughtful gift and subsequent maneuvering for her silence. Her desperation mounted.
Lucien wasn’t anything like his father.
Of course he wasn’t.
So why did he behave so secretly at times?
* * *
Lucien was glad to see that she stayed late that night. He thought she might leave Fusion in a temper when her duties were done, refusing to accompany him to the stables after their earlier disagreement. He’d observed her interaction with Francesca and Ian earlier and she’d done well with the possible exception that she’d pointedly omitted him from her warmth and charm. He could tolerate that himself, but Ian, at least, definitely noticed her giving him the cold shoulder.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked evenly as he entered the kitchen. Most of the lights had been turned down. She stood behind a wooden chopping table, stacking some plates. He saw that she’d changed out of her chef’s smock and wore a pair of white Martin jeans, the flagship product of her father, Louis Martin’s, famous fashion house. With the jeans, she wore a dark blue fitted T-shirt that emphasized her small waist and full breasts.
She merely nodded. He couldn’t tell from her pale face if she was still angry or not. In fact, he couldn’t read her mood accurately for the entire ride to his club. She was polite, but quiet for most of the forty-minute ride.
The club was located in a forested area in a western suburb. The guard at the front entrance had been told Lucien planned a late-night visit to the stables. He opened the gate with a friendly wave. Once they cleared the lit clubhouse, the road that led through dense trees was shrouded in thick darkness. The grounds were desolate at this time of night.
“I can’t wait to meet her,” Elise broke the silence fi
nally when they alighted in the parking lot. In the distance, the polo field was lit with a few floodlights, the forest surrounding it looking like a looming shadow. He heard excitement vibrating in her voice. He smiled into the darkness. The girl he remembered who had loved horses still existed inside her. “What’s her name?” she asked.
“Kesara. She’s still a filly. She’ll be three in a few months.”
“She’s not a polo pony, is she?” Elise asked as they approached the dim stables. Stan, who lived on the grounds a half mile or so down the road and who looked out for the thirty or so horses that were stabled there, was clearly not around.
“No. She’s for riding. There are some nice paths and fields on the grounds.”
“I’ll bet it was hard to find a club that features polo in the States? It’s not a very popular sport here, is it?”
“No, but it’s popular among a few people in the area and becoming more so.”
“You’re the former member of the French national team. You must be a bit under-challenged by the quality of the competition.”
“It’s fine. We just do it for fun, and besides, I’m not a young man anymore,” Lucien said, opening the door.
Elise snorted.
“It’s true. My mount gives me enough challenge as it is. He’s a firebrand.”
“What’s his name?” Elise asked in a hushed tone as they entered and heard soft whickers in the distance. The familiar rich, fecund scent of the stables entered his nose. They passed the tack room. A few of the horses’ heads flicked up when Lucien turned on a light.
“Jax. This is him,” he said a moment later. The huge, nearly black stallion jerked his head when he petted him, giving a harsh snort. Jax batted his hand in a rough gesture that Lucien recognized as gruff acknowledgment. The animal stilled when Lucien gave the corded muscle of his neck a deep rub.
“Oh my God, he’s gorgeous,” Elise enthused. She reached up to pet Jax and the horse bared his teeth, whinnying irritably, the whites of his ebony eyes showing. Lucien hastily grabbed Elise’s hand and led her away from Jax.
“He’s no pet. Best to sweet-talk and coddle Kesara here,” he suggested, leading her several stalls down to a sleek, brown filly who stood watching them, eyes alert and watchful. “Kesara, meet Elise,” he said, glancing to the side and noticing Elise’s gaze still lingering on Jax. She turned to look at the brown mare. Her eyes went wide.
It was love at first sight, he could tell, and the feeling was mutual. Kesara whickered softly as Elise petted and greeted her in a low, confidential tone. Kesara’s ears flicked with interest. For a moment, Lucien found himself listening to the silky, soothing sound of Elise speaking in French to the horse, lulled just like the animal . . . charmed. The dulcet tones made his skin prickle, his body stir. His gaze lowered to the taut, sleek curves of Elise’s hips and ass optimally outlined by the tight jeans and T-shirt. All the lust he’d been holding at bay suddenly flooded into his flesh.
Blood pumped into his cock, thickening it in a manner of seconds.
* * *
She turned, grinning with pleasure over Kesara. She paused when she saw Lucien, her eyes narrowing, her smile widening. His gaze was hot and wanting as he stared at her ass.
Damn him. She knew he wanted her. Why was he toying with her like this? She was sick of it. Why was he so intent on controlling her . . . on insisting she submit?
I’ll make him take me.
She blinked at the raw intensity of her thought. Suddenly, she knew precisely what she was going to do to get what she wanted.
“Can we go for a ride?” she asked him eagerly.
He shook his head. “It’s too dark. I’ll bring you out on Sunday.”
She used her eyes to seduce him. “I want to ride now. Please? She’s so beautiful. We can just go around the polo pitch.”
He paused, considering. She slicked her lower lip with the tip of her tongue, seeing the spark ignite in his eyes.
“All right,” he conceded, removing his jacket. She was careful to hide her triumph. “Wait here while I saddle them up.”
He’d finished Jax and had him tethered near the horse exit door when Elise asked for the location of the restroom. He pointed and gave her some instructions. She watched him enter Kesara’s stall. Instead of going to the restroom, which she really didn’t need to use, she quietly opened the stable door. Jax tossed his head up and gave her a defiant, one-eyed glare when she approached him. She smiled grimly and reached for the pommel.
* * *
A minute later, he heard what sounded like a door opening and Jax’s disgruntled whinny.
A feeling of dread swooped through him.
No, she wouldn’t.
He rushed out of Kesara’s stall and saw the stable doors wide open, neither Jax nor Elise anywhere in sight.
* * *
The devil made me do it.
The words zoomed into her brain as Jax flew into the night and a mixture of terror and excitement made her heart leap into her throat.
She didn’t mean the biblical devil. She meant the man who’d been bedeviling her for weeks. Lucien’s angry shout pierced the night, but Elise was too preoccupied with staying on Jax’s back to pay him much mind. She bent low, her chin just inches from Jax’s flying mane, her thighs clamped on the saddle like a vice. She gathered the reins and pulled for all she was worth, but the large, strong animal had been startled when she’d crawled up onto his back.
Startled and pissed.
She was a good rider, but she hadn’t been on a horse in over a year. Plus, she’d never been on a mount as strong or fierce as Jax. He shot across the dimly lit pitch, Elise clinging onto his back like a leech that was about to lose suction.
Maybe this hadn’t been the wisest choice after all. But when had she ever been wise when she grew desperate?
“No, Jax, no,” she pleaded desperately when the animal cleared the pitch and entered the forest. For a few wild seconds before darkness almost completely encapsulated them, she saw that it was a wide horse path. Jax was clearly familiar with it. He barely slowed with the dirt beneath his hooves instead of the grass. The animal bolted through the forest, Elise hanging on for dear life and beginning to panic over her decision to goad Lucien.
Damn him. If he only wasn’t so insufferable—staring at her ass when she wasn’t looking with those hot, gray eyes, acting like he didn’t want her when she knew perfectly well he did.
Her eyes were blinded by the patchy clouds and the dark trees. Jax pounded on the path, the sound of his hooves hammering into her ears and mixing with the terrified beats of her heart. The horse’s footing was sure. If she just hung on, he would eventually tire.
Wouldn’t he?
The boundless, raw energy she felt exuding from the animal made her doubt her self-assurance. At least he hadn’t tried to throw her. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Very dim starlight helped her to make out the tops of the trees. Her thighs began to burn unbearably from the tight clamp necessary to stay on the horse’s back. If Jax bucked or reared, she wouldn’t be able to hang on.
Suddenly she became aware of the sound of distant hooves behind them.
Lucien.
Relief surged through her. Her increasing terror at being on the back of the out-of-control animal trumped the dread of his reaction.
“Jax!” Lucien shouted in a hard voice several moments later from behind her. Jax whipped up his head sharply and let out a throat-tearing whinny, the action and sound making her fear he’d rear.
“Hang on, Elise. Do not leg go. Jax, slow down, you demon,” Lucien bellowed from behind her, sounding wild with worry, not to mention furious. Could he catch up before she lost her strength and fell off? she wondered frantically. Elise could tell by Kesara’s sleek form that she came from a family of racers, while Jax came from a long line of horses bred initially for the brute force and perseverance required on the battlefield, and in modern times for polo. But Jax was pitched into a frenzy.
She had
herself to thank for that.
She heard the sharp cracking noise of a crop on horseflesh and had an image of Lucien back there, urging Kesara onward. For a crazy, brief second she hoped Jax would keep running.
“Jax,” Lucien called sternly, his voice sounding closer this time.
Jax snorted loudly. At first, she noticed no change in the animal’s pace, but it began to enter her awareness that he slowed. The sound of Kesara’s clattering hooves drew nearer, mixing with the sound of Jax’s ragged pants. He was tiring. He slowed to a fast trot. She heaved a sigh of relief, easing some of the brutal pressure she’d placed on her thigh muscles. She pulled on the reins and Jax finally responded, slowing even more.
The horse came to a halt. She remained bent over, panting, holding the reins in a death grip. She heard Kesara and Lucien come up beside them and come to a stop.
“Lucien?” she asked shakily a moment later when she felt his body brush her leg. She could just make out his tall shadow from the weak starlight. He put his hand in front of hers on the reins. Jax pranced and her heart again leapt into her throat.
“Whoa,” Lucien said in a low tone. Jax calmed, and Elise wondered if Lucien wasn’t patting his hindquarters with his talented hands, soothing him.
“Take your foot out of the stirrup,” he said.
She did what he said. He grabbed ahold of the pommel, and the next thing she knew he was straddling the saddle behind her, his large body reassuringly solid and warm behind her. Without comment, he firmly took the reins from her and chirruped. Jax slowly turned in the path.
“Kesara?” Lucien prompted. Jax began to walk in the path in the direction of the stables. She heard Kesara’s hooves on the path, following them.
“I’m so sorry,” she began breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to startle him. He bolted out of the stables before I could do anything to stop him. I only wanted to sit on him,” she added lamely when Lucien remained intimidatingly silent behind her.
“You opened the stable doors,” he said, his voice like frozen steel. She felt the tension coiled in his hard muscles as she leaned against him.
The fury.
