by Snow, Jenika
And I’d make whoever hurt her pay tenfold.
13
Elise
I didn’t know what had gotten into me when I agreed to stay to eat dinner with Lucius. It was highly unprofessional, but he offered, and the truth was, I didn’t want to go home alone right now. It was awfully lonely at my apartment, and a little company with the man who was consuming my thoughts and feelings sounded pretty incredible.
I was embarrassed about the bruise on my face. I knew he wouldn’t let it go, and I had to admit it literally was my fault. There was no doubt he thought someone hit me, which was a reasonable conclusion to come to. Because what idiot falls into a door and gets herself the nasty mark I had on my face?
We didn’t want to bother going to the formal dining room, and I was thankful. I’d feel highly uncomfortable eating in the fancy, opulent room.
Instead, he set the aluminum containers on the little nook kitchen table, pulled the chair out for me like a gentleman, and I sat down and gave him a grateful smile. Then he waited on me. I watched silently as he grabbed a bottle of wine, two glasses out of the cupboard, and the corkscrew.
He moved back and forth a few times collecting what he needed.
Although Lucius wasn’t pretentious, so I didn’t know why I was acting surprised he was waiting on me, it felt a little bit awkward given the fact that I’d been working at his house all day, cleaning, preparing stuff. It was weird, because I was his employee.
But now, here he was serving me dinner, opening the wine, with me still in my work uniform. He poured me a glass of red wine and then stood there, looking down at me with this gentle expression on his face. I had no doubt this wine was expensive as hell, definitely not the boxed wine I splurged on at the supermarket.
I didn’t miss the fact that he kept glancing at my bruise. I knew he wasn’t going to let that go. But I also didn’t know why he was just standing there. He was waiting for something. I shifted on the seat when I realized he was waiting for me to try the wine. I felt so out of place and not in my element, but I reached out and picked up the glass, bringing it to my nose and inhaling deeply. I’d seen enough movies to at least pretend like I knew what I was doing.
I hummed my approval and flicked a glance at him, seeing the corner of his mouth twitch as if he were amused. And then I took a long pull from the glass, drinking the sweet-flavored liquid. A genuine sound of pleasure left me, and he made a deep sound in his throat of approval before he poured himself a glass and sat down.
I looked down at the meal in front of me. Lucius had it so nicely presented on a plate. He’d even done up the place setting, with a fork and knife beside me, a linen napkin beside those. Roberto was an incredible cook, and I’d taken a few meals home from time to time. So I knew I was in for a real delicacy.
There was a square of lasagna, the steam coming off of it, the cheese melted and slightly browned on the top. A side salad was in a little bowl beside the plate, a red wine vinegar and olive oil dressing drizzled on top, a little bit of salt and pepper finishing it off. There was a slice of garlic bread on the napkin, and a tiny sprig of basil beside the lasagna slice. I knew all of this was homemade by Roberto. No frozen heat-and-eat items here.
My stomach growled as my hunger took over. Aside from bringing home meals that Roberto cooked, and my once-a-week family dinners with my aunt and mother, my dinners usually consisted of either bologna and cheese slapped between two piece of cheap white bread or a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Because by the time I got home, I was too tired and lazy to really want to cook anything substantial, and besides, it was just me, so who was I going to prepare a big meal for?
I watched Lucius as he picked up his wine glass and took a drink, and I never imagined watching a man drink from such a dainty glass could be so attractive, or watching the way his throat worked as he swallowed the alcohol could be such a turn-on. But here I was, clenching my thighs together, because the very sight of Lucius had my entire body heating in awareness.
“Eat, Elise,” he said gently, not in an ordering, dominant manner. “I want you to enjoy it while it’s hot.”
I gave him a grateful smile and pushed all my insecurities and uncertainty of the situation aside as I ate.
For the first five minutes or so, we didn’t really speak, the sound of our silverware clanking against the plates and salad bowls seeming overly loud, but then he started asking me little things. He wanted to know what my favorite color was, my favorite season, what I loved eating for dinner and dessert. It was a little conversation starter, but I appreciated the distraction. And I realized I hadn’t asked him anything, because a part of me thought maybe that would be prying, that if he wanted to tell me anything about himself, then he would’ve interjected it in the conversation.
But he hadn’t given me a morsel of information, so asking him now seemed almost strange. Yet I wanted to know about Lucius, and after taking a long drink of wine, feeling the warmth of the alcohol move through me, I cleared my throat. “What about you?” It was an open-ended question, one where he could answer however he saw fit. But I felt stupid for not specifying. “What do you enjoy doing in your free time?”
He set his fork down and grabbed his linen napkin to wipe his mouth before he leaned back in the chair and gave me a small smile. “You know, no one’s ever asked me that before.”
I felt my heart jump a little at that admission.
“Mainly I just like the quiet. I like to sit in the atrium and read, occasionally watch some sappy movie with a glass of bourbon, the fire roaring, and a bowl of popcorn right out of the microwave.”
I couldn’t help it; I felt one of my eyebrows lift in surprise, and a light chuckle left me. The corner of his mouth kicked up.
“You find that funny?” he asked, and my smile widened. “Let me guess—the bowl of popcorn and sappy movie is what surprises you?”
I lifted my hand and covered my mouth as I chuckled softly, nodding. I felt like an asshole for laughing. But he seemed like the least likely man I’d ever met who would enjoy watching that type of movie.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said after I gathered my composure. “You just don’t seem like the type of guy who’d do all that, popcorn bowl and all.”
He was quiet for a minute and I wondered if I’d offended him. Then he smiled again. “What kind of guy do I seem like, Elise?” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table, his focus trained on me.
My cheeks were burning, and I licked my lips nervously. “I guess I see you as a businessman through and through,” I said honestly. “I pictured you with a glass of bourbon in your hand as you watched stock exchanges and news programs.”
He full-out laughed then and gave a nod.
“I do that too, but it’s not for pleasure. My father was like that though. He always had the TV on, flipping through different news programs, business exchange channels, all of that. It’s what I grew up around, so I guess that’s the furthest thing from what I want to do in my downtime.”
I could understand that. It made sense. I didn’t know much about Lucius, but I did know his father recently passed, but I couldn’t gauge if that was hard for him or not.
“I’m sorry about your father,” I said softly, wishing I would have said this before now but somehow feeling like it would have been out of place.
He lifted one broad shoulder, and I found it curious that he didn’t seem sorrowful with me bringing it up or in general. Maybe they had a strained relationship?
“Were you close with your father?” I didn’t know why I asked. It was none of my business, and I should have known from the lack of emotion on his face when I brought it up that it was probably a topic he didn’t want to delve into. But I wanted to be closer with Lucius, to get to know him.
He leaned back in the chair and watched me for a little bit, and I wondered what he was thinking. “No,” he finally said. “I wasn’t close with my father at all. In fact, he saw me more as a business transaction.” His words had shock fill
ing me.
“A business transaction?”
He gave me an unamused smirk. “Meaning he wanted an heir. I was a means to an end for him. He didn’t have me because he saw himself being a father, because he loved me or the idea of children. He had me, because he needed someone in line for his Blacksmith throne.”
That broke my heart. It really did, and I didn’t know what to say in response, didn’t know how to verbally make him feel better, so I said nothing at all.
“And my mother, or lack thereof, had been a surrogate, a woman simply hired for the sole purpose of giving my father what he wanted… a child. An heir.” He cleared his throat, seeming very uncomfortable. “And that’s what he’s trying to do from the grave now, what he’s trying to push my hand at.” Those words were whispered so low I almost didn’t hear them.
I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but I could assume, could guess that his father was trying to force him to do what he had done. But to make someone have an heir? The idea seemed so barbaric it made my stomach clench. But it wasn’t just that it was a bastard move by his father, but because the very idea of Lucius with a woman, touching her... connecting with her in that way, having a baby out of obligation, had jealousy moving through me.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said in response to what he revealed about his father. Although I could tell Lucius was used to keeping his emotions in check, I had seen the flicker of something pass over his face when he told me about his father. And I didn’t need to do a bunch of digging to know that a man like Francis Blacksmith was probably all business.
The thought of having a child for the simple fact of having somebody blood-related to run the business seemed so abhorrent to me. A child wasn’t a pawn, but it was clear Lucius’s father had seen him as just that. I didn’t know what was happening between Lucius and me, but what I felt for him was unlike anything I experienced before.
It was something I wanted to delve deeper into, even if that scared me.
14
Lucius
We found ourselves in the living room, or as my father called it, the drawing room. I sat on the leather armchair, brought my bourbon glass to my lips, and took a long drink, listening to Elise talk about her mother and aunt. I liked this part of her, this easygoing, almost playful side. She was on her second glass of wine, and although she nursed the hell out of it, I could see the rosiness in her cheeks. I knew that’s why she was being so talkative, the alcohol moving through her veins and giving her a little bit of courage.
And I ate it up, absorbed the light that came from her as if it were the sun and I’d been starved for it my entire life.
I liked all aspects of her, all parts that made her up. I enjoyed the shy, silent part of Elise, the part that called to my masculine, protective side. But I also liked this part of her, when she laughed easily and smiled freely, where her cheeks were blushed and her eyes glossy.
I started a fire as soon as we’d come in here after dinner, and the sound of the crackling broke up the silence. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. I kept finding myself looking at her, just staring at her face, at the way the shadows played across her profile.
She had a delicate face, feminine and fragile features. Her lips were full, her nose tiny, a little bit turned up. Her cheekbones were high, her lashes dark and long. My fingers itched to caress her skin. I knew her flesh was soft, softer than anything I ever touched before.
I bet every part of her was just as soft.
I shifted it on the seat, telling myself over and over again not to get aroused. That was the last thing I needed to happen in this moment.
I took another drink of my bourbon and rested the glass on the armrest of the chair, leaning back against the leather and just watching her. She was staring at the fire for only a second before she turned her attention to me, her eyes taking on this sexy, drowsy expression under the fire light. I couldn’t help but look at the bruise on her face again. It had been at the forefront of my mind this entire time, but I hadn’t pressed it.
Not until now.
I needed to know what happened so I could make it right.
I tipped my chin toward her. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” I kept my voice low, gentle even. I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to force her hand in anything, make her tell me what happened. But I was arrogant enough to know that I would find out how she got the mark no matter what.
She shifted on the couch a little and cleared her throat, and I could see my question put her on the spot. It wasn’t my intention, but I had to know the circumstances surrounding it. That was just the type of man I was.
“It’s really nothing.” She licked her lips, and I could still see her nervousness. It was like this extra person in the room with us. “Uh, I—I actually gave it to myself accidentally.” I felt my brows rise in surprise before I pulled them down low in confusion.
“You gave it to yourself?”
She snorted in faux amusement. “Well, not purposely, obviously.” She gave an anxious laugh, and I could see she was embarrassed by the pinkness on her cheeks. She cleared her throat again and didn’t speak for a minute, but I didn’t press, because I knew she’d eventually tell me. “There were issues with my aunt and mom’s landlord.” She stared at the fire again. “He was less than amicable about helping me, in helping my family.” She glanced down at the wine glass, and I saw the way her throat worked as she swallowed.
I felt my anger and annoyance rise at the fact that some asshole gave her a hard time.
“My aunt and mom have a little raised bed in the backyard of the place they rent from this asshole. He told them they had to take it down because it would ruin the patio foundation, which is a load of shit.” She brought her wine glass up and finished it off. “I went to his house to see if we could come to some agreement. He went to close the door after giving me a hard time. I was stupid enough to try to stop him, and I fell forward and smacked my face on the edge of the screen door.” Elise pointed to the side of her face. “And that’s how I got this stupid bruise. So I meant when I said I gave it to myself.” She shook her head as she smiled.
I felt my anger rise over the fact that if it weren’t for some fucking bastard messing with her and giving Elise a hard time, she never would have gotten hurt. So yeah, she may have gotten it accidentally, but I placed all that damn blame on the fucking landlord.
I’d find out who he was and where he was at, and then I’d pay him a little visit so he’d know what he was up against.
“I should probably be going,” she said and placed her wine glass on the coffee table and stood.
It was getting late, and I’d lost track of time as I enjoyed her company immensely. “You’re welcome to stay if you want.” I was desperate to have her close.
She seemed a bit surprised by my offer. “Thanks, but I hate traveling this late, so it’s best if I go now.”
I knew she didn’t have a car, and the very thought of her taking public transportation this late, with sick fuckers who could hurt her or give her a hard time, had every protective part of me rising.
Yeah, that was not going to happen. In fact, she wasn’t going to be riding public transport anymore. I worried too much, even if it was probably reasonably safe, even if she rode during the daylight. No, if I couldn’t pick her up and bring her to work, I’d have someone I trusted do it.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my distance. I didn’t want to. So I might as well embrace the hell out of how I felt for Elise, and hope like hell she was just as deep as I was.
15
Elise
I wasn’t about to decline his offer to take me home. I didn’t like going home when it was dark for obvious reasons. The city might be safe enough, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
He pulled his expensive sports car into the parking lot of my apartment building. I lived in a shitty part of town; not drug-deals on the corner kind of bad, but bad enough that poverty was high, which meant housing was less than attra
ctive.
“Thank you,” I said, feeling embarrassed he saw where I lived. This was a means to an end kind of situation, but compared to what Lucius was probably used to—the penthouses, the estate—this looked like the bottom of a garbage can. But when I looked at him, all I saw was how transfixed he was with me. He didn’t even look at the building, didn’t even act like he saw anything but… me.
“You’re welcome,” he finally replied, or maybe I’d been so lost in my own thoughts it seemed like minutes had passed. “I’m going to have someone pick you up for work and take you home after your shifts.” His tone brokered no argument, but I was already shaking my head.
“Mr. Blacksmith—”
“It’s Lucius. Call me Lucius.”
I licked my lips and nodded. “Lucius, that’s really not necessary. I’m more than fine riding the subway and taking cabs. I’ve been doing it all my life.”
He had this hard look on his face. “It’s not safe. I’ll have Charlie pick you up to bring you to the house, and he’ll bring you back home after your shift.” He looked at the apartment building. “But he’ll only do that if I can’t.” He looked back at me. My heart did a little gallop in my chest.
Part of me knew I should’ve insisted that wasn’t necessary. Boss, after all. But the other part, the stronger one, the selfish one, said to shut up and just accept this, because it’s what I wanted. So I gave him a smile, nodded slowly, and said thank you once more. He still watched me, and I felt acutely bared, his focus so intense it was like every part of me was on display.
“Good night, Lucius.” I went to get out of the car, but the gentle touch of his hand on my arm stopped me.
It stopped my heart.
“Elise,” he said softly, and I looked at him. I felt his thumb moving over my skin, a gentle caress that had every part of me igniting.
