by BETH KERY
“You are refusing to cooperate,” he’d said as he tied a silk scarf he’d found in her drawer around her eyes. “I tell you to keep your head turned, but you keep watching me, don’t you? Greedy little thing,” he’d murmured as he tightened the knot, his tone warm and amused.
It’d been worse—far worse—leaving things to her imagination, graphically picturing him stroking his cock while he made her shudder in bliss.
He said he was busy finalizing the details on the hotel purchase, and she supposed that was true, because he was rarely either at Fusion or the penthouse. She knew he occasionally went to his club for a polo match, but as of yet, he hadn’t asked her to accompany him. The only hint of hope she had in that direction was that he’d alluded to the fact that he’d look for a mount for her so that they could ride together on the grounds.
She’d never felt so good as she had after so many nights of solid, deep sleep. Yet each morning, she woke up alone. All that extra energy was nice, but it was also leaving her with an unsatisfied edge. Not once had she been treated like this in her life. She was accustomed to men going too far in the other direction—bending over backward to please her, following her every demand to the letter, even pulling crazy stunts to get her to notice. Erik Cebir, for instance, the man her parents wanted her to marry, had asked her once if she liked fishing, and she’d idly replied that she did. Erik had responded by buying a brand-new yacht—complete with eight bedrooms—which he’d proudly dubbed The Golden Elise. He’d hidden his irritation quite well when he’d finally gotten her out in it to learn she knew absolutely nothing about, nor had any interest in, deep-sea fishing. When she’d told him she enjoyed fishing, she’d been referring to dropping a line off the end of a dock, like she had with Lucien during that summer of her youth. Despite her lackluster interest in hooking a gigantic tuna, Erik had rallied to please her in other ways.
She knew very well most men were doing it because of the lure of her status and wealth, and that it had absolutely nothing to do with her value as a person. They didn’t really know her, and for the most part, none of them seemed that interested in discovering her character. But that didn’t change the fact. It was what she had grown to expect from men, even if it wasn’t necessarily what she desired.
Lucien had changed all the rules on her, and she suspected he knew perfectly well what he was doing. He knew her habits and her former lifestyle as well as anyone, after all. Her frustration was mounting by the hour. She couldn’t possess what she wanted most—the gorgeous, insufferable, aloof man who stood regarding her now like she was about as interesting as the dirty pans stacked next to the sink.
“May I steal Elise from you for a moment? I need some clarification on her tax information from when she was under salary. I promise it won’t take long,” Lucien said to Denise.
“Of course; she’s been working nonstop, and the lunch rush is almost over,” Denise said as she ladled some steaming tomato bisque into a bowl and garnished it with goat cheese and freshly baked croutons. Elise respected Denise and was thankful that they got along so well. Compared to many chefs she knew, Denise possessed a very even temperament. She’d never learned better how to shut up and tamp down her pride than she had in cooking school, working with so many large personalities.
No, that wasn’t entirely correct. She’d never learned better how to restrain her pride until she’d encountered Lucien in Chicago, she thought as she wiped off her hands and approached the tester-of-her-temper himself. He tilted his head in a request for her to follow him. By the time he’d led her silently to his office and shut the heavy carved door, she was starting to get nervous. She hadn’t believed him for a moment when he’d mentioned the tax information. Everything she’d given him had been correct and up to date.
She watched him as he went behind his desk and sat. He was wearing a pair of jeans today, the fit of them highly distracting, along with an open collared white shirt and a black blazer that emphasized his wide shoulders. Behind his huge mahogany desk, he looked every inch the commanding, compelling lord of the manor.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him shakily.
He blinked at her question. “Nothing is wrong. Why would you assume something is?” he asked, a smile pulling at his mouth.
“It’s just . . . you don’t usually call me back here.” Her hand instinctively strayed to her bottom as she recalled him punishing her here in his office. His gaze flickered downward. His smile widened.
“Have you been bad, Elise?” he asked, his tone a low, sexy tease.
Damn those dimples of his. Realizing she’d been touching her ass, she pulled her hand away.
“Of course I haven’t. Why did you ask to speak with me?” she asked curiously.
“I thought you’d like to know I have bought you a mare.”
Her heart leapt. His smile widened as he studied her reaction.
“You bought me a horse?” she asked excitedly, approaching his desk. “Where is she? When do I get to see her?”
He held up his hands in a pause gesture. “I’ll take you to the stables this evening after I close Fusion.”
She made a frustrated sound. Lucien had bought her a horse. “I can’t wait that long.”
“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 th
ere’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 finally 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.
