Chapter 12
Postmortem
An analysis of a game after it’s over
“This is fucking bullshit.” Lucian gripped his cell as he climbed into the elevator, maneuvering around the others filling the cramped space. A woman in a fitted suit smiled up at him. He ignored her and focused on what Shamus was saying.
“I can’t figure it out either. This deal was in the bag. I don’t understand what’s causing them to procrastinate.”
“Have you sent over the paperwork from Quincy?” The elevator paused as several riders exited. Lucian waited as the doors closed and it continued on its journey to the top.
“They got it yesterday. My understanding was that they were only waiting for the final draft. The board was all in agreement this was the best move. It doesn’t make sense for them to pull back now. What’s changed?” Shamus was clearly as frustrated as he was.
Lucian stepped off the elevator and walked at a clipped pace past Seth’s desk. “Get me Quincy on the phone, and I want a copy of your notes from yesterday’s conference call.”
“Yes, sir,” his assistant said, snapping into action.
Lucian shut the door and went to his desk, removing his jacket and tossing it over the chair. Today was going to be a pain in the ass. He could already sense it. His mind refocused on what Jamie was saying.
“. . . The statistics are all in their favor. There are no other bids on the table now that Chrysler’s withdrawn their offer. Could there be someone we overlooked?”
Lucian dropped into his chair. “Who? Bishop’s not going to be interested. He’s already on my shit list and knows going into this will only end in his company’s bloodshed.”
“No, I don’t think it’s Slade. Something isn’t adding up though. For Labex to suddenly hesitate when they have everything they asked for on a silver platter . . . there has to be an offer on the table we aren’t seeing.”
“Are you saying there’s a mole?” Lucian frowned and did a quick inventory of his staff. This deal was huge. Over eighteen months poured into schmoozing and negotiating in order to get Labex, a green energy provider, to put their accounts in the care of Patras. They’d be handling everything from the site modifications, to warehousing their equipment, to managing their accounts. “Who else could compete with our offer?”
“Aside from Slade? I don’t know.”
Flicking on his computer, he grimaced.
“Mr. Patras, I have Mr. Quincy on line one,” Seth piped in over the intercom.
“Shamus, I do not want to lose this deal. It’s a good partnership, and the mere idea of someone fucking with us is irritating. I want to find out who it is and I want them dealt with. Have Margarite do a search on all vacant warehouses in Folsom. I’ll get Seth to arrange a dinner tonight, someplace nice. We’ll do some ass-kissing and dig around. Whoever’s playing with us is about to get a severe lesson in business acumen.”
“You got it. Let me know how you make out with Quincy.”
“Will do.” He ended his call and snatched up his desk phone. “Quincy.”
The long series of phone calls that followed did nothing but frustrate everyone involved. Lucian had a staff of over one hundred involved in this deal, and they were all running around like headless chickens trying to find where their plan had fallen short.
By two, he was ready to flip his desk and demand a meeting with Jacobi, the CEO of Labex Green, but knew that would only show his cards and not bode well for anyone. Dinner was arranged for that evening, and he and Jamie would do everything in their power to control the damage.
Finally, the call he’d been waiting for came. He snatched up his cell. “Dugan?”
“Got it,” his chauffer said.
Lucian smiled with great satisfaction. She had to know it was only a matter of time. “I’ll be down in five.”
He grabbed his jacket and left his office. “I’ll be back in an hour. Text me with any news regarding Labex. Everything else can wait.”
Seth nodded and continued to frantically compile the schematics Lucian requested for that evening. As he strode into the elevator, he slipped his master key into the grid, in no mood to deal with other passengers. The ride to the ground was made in luxurious silence. When the dial showed he’d reached the lobby without interruption, he withdrew his key and stepped onto the marble tiles.
Pressing through the revolving glass doors, he found Dugan waiting. His chauffeur opened the back door of the limo and Lucian glided onto the smooth leather seat. “Where are we heading?”
Dugan smiled. “Clemons Market, sir.”
The door shut with a soft snick and they were soon on their way. He hadn’t heard from Evelyn since early that morning. He wondered how committed she was to her “plans” that evening. It would benefit him if she accompanied him to their dinner meeting, making it seem more casual than manipulative, a sort of preemptive celebration of the partnership to come. Much of his success in business was the result of assuming victory from the first handshake.
He groaned as he considered Shamus, if he intended to bring a date, would likely ask his sister Toni. Lucian could not wait for that ridiculous coupling to run its course and be over.
Toni was the farthest thing from reserved. She spoke too much and most of the time came off spoiled and unworldly. It wasn’t her fault. She was young. He couldn’t fault her for her lack of experience. It was her need to fill every bit of silence with mindless chatter that could hinder his plans for the evening. Evelyn was much better at knowing when words were necessary and when less was more in terms of finessing professionals.
He drew out his phone and texted Jamie.
Are you going stag tonight?
It only took a moment for his friend to reply.
Your sister would cut off my nuts if I took someone else. So, yes. It’s better she thinks this is strictly business and no one’s feelings will be hurt.
Lucian drew in a breath of relief. The one thing he couldn’t deny was that his friend truly knew his sister . . . and her faults.
I may bring Evelyn, but she already has plans, but I’d like her to go.
The time to reply exceeded the norm and Lucian knew his friend was laughing at his expense.
So she’s speaking to you again? And plans? Without you? I didn’t know that was allowed.
Lucian carefully typed each letter of his reply.
Fuck. You.
Shamus’ reply was quick.
Lol. Would if I could. I’m very good. Ask your sister.
He wasn’t touching that one. Wedging his phone in his breast pocket, he shifted as Dugan pulled into the market’s parking lot. The market was small, sort of a commercialized mom-and-pop feel to it.
When the limo eased into the fire lane, Lucian let himself out. Dugan met him on the curb. “I’ll be out in a bit. You can park.”
“Yes, sir.”
The automatic doors opened to the scent of paper products and the hum of canned elevator music. He could not recall the last time he stepped foot in a grocery store. Perhaps he never had. A metal snake of shopping carts was parked along the front of the store. His feet carried him where his mind wasn’t aware he should go.
Crossing the threshold of another set of automatic doors, he entered the main store. Shoppers glided by, perusing their lists and selecting goods, as mothers herded children in the desired direction. A stack of baskets sat just beside a display of cut flowers. He collected a basket and selected a bouquet of lavender tulips, dropping them into the green wire bin.
Sales marked the first aisle, and he wasn’t quite sure where Evelyn would be. He drifted down the aisles, taking in the unique feeling of normalcy that came with being in such an ordinary place. Lucian stilled in the cookie aisle when his gaze recognized a type of pinwheel biscuit and his mind drifted to a memory he had all but forgotten.
His fingers curled around the simple white box with blue lettering as he returned to his childhood kitchen. He suddenly conjured his mother’s perfume and felt the warmth of her presence as she handed him a pinwheel. Her smile was delicate and loving.
Strange that a cookie could present such a nostalgic recollection he didn’t realize he had. The box of cookies landed in the basket, cozied neatly beside the tulips so as not to crush the blooms.
As he wandered on he looked for signs of Evelyn, but didn’t find her. At the line of registers he saw the young man who had taken her to the benefit that weekend. No longer in a tuxedo, he appeared less of a threat and more of a boy. Odd that Lucian would see him as so young when he saw Evelyn as his perfect match.
He frowned as he considered the difference in their age. The media had been focusing on the question of her maturity like predators over a downed squirrel. Had he taken advantage of an innocent? True, she was a virgin when he met her, but she was also an adult.
The media would, of course, have no knowledge of such things, but it certainly didn’t escape their notice that Evelyn was in her early twenties while he was in his midthirties. Should he feel some level of guilt for wanting her in such carnal ways?
“Lucian?”
All thoughts cut off as he heard her voice. He turned and found her stepping from a nondescript back door by the bakery section. “There you are.” He smiled and approached her.
Lips parted in surprise, she stared at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“I’m working.” She scowled. “How did you find out where I worked?”
He rolled his eyes. “Come on, Evelyn . . .”
She made a sound of disgust. “And you wonder why I want my privacy on other issues.”
He frowned. The sense that he was unwelcome irritated him, another barrier that hadn’t existed before. “Well, I needed to pick up a few things.”
The disbelieving look she gave him made him smirk. She never bought into his bullshit, but at least she didn’t challenge him. She peeked into his basket. “Cookies and flowers?”
He stepped closer and whispered. “Shh, you aren’t supposed to see the flowers.” He had the strongest desire to kiss her, but knew she wouldn’t want such attention in her place of work. Rather, he slowly traced a finger down the delicate curve of her jaw.
A door opened, the one she had just exited, and she suddenly stiffened and stepped away.
“Evelyn, you will also need to—” The man who emerged cut off his request when he spotted Lucian standing there.
He was young, but appeared older in the way he carried himself. His face was groomed with a dated mustache and his eyes were hidden behind thick lenses, making his age difficult to discern. Lucian’s gaze snapped to his badge and noted that he was the manager.
“I didn’t realize you were assisting a customer. Please return to my office when you’re finished.”
There was nothing inappropriate in such a request from a manager to an employee, yet the set of Evelyn’s shoulders and the blank expression on her face told him something was off. The manager disappeared through the doors again and Evelyn drew in a shaky breath.
Before he could ask what the guy’s deal was, she turned and hissed, “You have to go.”
He frowned. “Do you not like your manager?”
“He’s my boss. I don’t have an opinion about him, but he’ll certainly have an opinion about me holding social calls at work.”
No, there was something definitely off with her, and it definitely had to do with the manager. “If you think I’m leaving because some little twerp with his picture in a dollar-store frame wants it so, you’re mistaken.”
She huffed and shifted on her feet. “Lucian, I have work to do—”
“Is that his office?”
She turned and glanced at the door. “What? Yes.”
“Why were you in his office?”
“He had to go over some things with me.”
“Like?”
“My receipts. Lucian, I really need to get back to work.”
That was his little worker bee, always so concerned about keeping her job. She really was an admirable employee. However, she was also vulnerable because of her age and the drive to maintain her job.
“Does he ever request the other employees join him in his office?”
Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose. They were manicured, but no longer polished the way they had been when she’d stayed at the hotel and had the use of the salon. He’d make her an appointment.
“I don’t know. I need to go see what he wants now. I’ll call you when I’m done working.” She turned and disappeared through the back door without giving him a chance to reply. Dismissed indeed. He had a moment of what the hell is happening to me as he stared at the nondescript door, dumfounded.
He decided he’d wait. Let’s see how long Mr. Manager decides to monopolize his employee.
Lucian drifted to a display of rotisserie chickens that smelled surprisingly good. He waited for several moments. And when the door finally opened, Evelyn marched out and made a beeline to the registers on the opposite end of the store. There was no mistaking the irritation that set her shoulders. His eyes narrowed as he placed his basket beside a tank of lobsters and adjusted his cuffs.
Walking over to the door he pressed through and found a cramped little storage room with a ratty filing cabinet and the manager behind a beaten-down desk. The man’s mouth dropped open beneath his mustache.
“May I help you?” Clearly shoppers were not permitted in this area.
Lucian took his time taking in the small space. The guy had pictures of himself on the wall proclaiming he’d been employee of the month more times than any other. Instinct told him something was off and his gut said it was more than simple territorial paranoia for Evelyn.
He brushed his thumb over the edge of a dusty crate. “Mr. Gerhard?” It was easy to get his name off one of the many plaques on the wall.
“Yes?” The manager’s confusion to his presence showed signs of unease. It was a simple enough task. Lucian was older, better dressed, taller, and unarguably more powerful. The manager was outmatched and knew it, even if he didn’t know the game.
“I’m Lucian Patras.” There, that did it. Game on.
His brows shot over the dated frames of his glasses and he stood, instinctively offering the well-known name the respect it deserved. He held out his hand. “Mr. Patras, well, what a surprise. I hadn’t recognized you. Is there something I can do for you?”
Lucian kept his expression blank, but narrowed his eyes in a manner he knew could intimidate even the most powerful man. Gerhard got the unspoken message and withdrew his proffered hand.
“I imagine you’ve worked quite hard to obtain your position here at Clemons, Mr. Gerhard. Did I mention I know the Clemons family? They and the Patras family go back a long way. I’d hate to have to contact them beyond the courteous Christmas card.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” the manager said, his posture protective.
Lucian eyed the watermark on the ceiling with disinterest. “Evelyn Keats is someone very special to me. I understand that she’s new here and may require direction as she becomes oriented with her new duties, but do not make the mistake of taking advantage of her work ethic.” He met the other man’s gaze, which was magnified by his thick glasses. “I look out for her and will continue to do so. I want to make sure she’s being treated the same as the other employees. She may appear to be just another clerk here, but I assure you, she has an arsenal of attorneys at her disposal if, say, an employer were to overstep the bounds of proper management. Are we clear?”
The man swallowed noticeably. “Perfectly.”
“Very well. I’ll continue with my errand.” He turned and exited the office, sweeping up his basket and making his way to the registers.
***
Lucian approached the hostess’s station and was recognized immediately. “Mr. Patras, lovely to see you again. Your party is waiting right this way.”
He followed the young blonde to his usual table and recognized Jamie. Confusion knit his brows when he noted his friend’s scowl. The hostess left them as he settled across from Shamus. “What’s wrong?”
“You’ll see,” Jamie grumped and Lucian turned just as his sister slid into the seat beside Jamie.
His gaze widened for a split second. “Antoinette, I wasn’t expecting you.”
His sister made a great show of hauteur as she adjusted her napkin and raised her chin. “Lucian, always a pleasure. No Evelyn this evening?”
“She had plans.”
“Ah, so she was invited and simply couldn’t make it. How interesting.” She shot Jamie a derisive glance and his friend rolled his eyes. This was not what they needed this evening.
Lucian tilted his head to Shamus, his eyes asking What the fuck? Jamie simply shook his head and said, “George and Preston should be here any minute. Let’s order some drinks and get on with this. They’re both gin-and-tonic men.”
They waved over the waitress and ordered a round of the house’s best gin, and drinks for the rest of them. Toni ordered a daiquiri or some other juvenile display that was inappropriate. This entire parade was making his jaw tense. What the hell was Shamus thinking, entertaining a relationship with his little sister? This was exactly why the idea was ludicrous. Not only were Shamus’s tastes too dark for Lucian to contemplate when involving his sister, their lifestyle required a certain level of class that came, not with money, but with time and experience the likes of which Toni had yet to learn.
Lucian sighed and sipped his brandy. They discussed the strategy for schmoozing their associates, and Toni remained quiet. However, her disinterested expression, the one that said they were boring her and she’d rather be shopping, grated on Lucian.
Toni fidgeted like a child in church. He wanted to slap his friend for not taking control of the situation and demanding she stay home. This wasn’t fucking Romper Room. It was a multimillion-dollar merger that they were rumored to lose.
Shamus hissed a warning to Toni, who replied with an indignant glare when their guests arrived. Luckily, by the time George and Preston were escorted to their table, his sister’s expression had morphed into serene acquiescence.
The five of them shook hands and Antoinette was introduced. Ice was broken and orders were placed with no regard to price, and every bit of emphasis placed on the unspoken acknowledgement that the Labex men were their honored guests. No comment was made to hint there was any chance the deal could go to another bidder. Confidence and the assumption of success were all part of the game of persuasion.
Throughout the meal, Shamus and Lucian made a good play to lull their associates into a state of comfort that seduced them into believing this was right, this was where they wanted to be and it was in their best interests to stay.
Toni remained silent through most of the meal and Lucian was relieved. She preened prettily and batted her eyes at the other men. Ironically, this play of flattery outwardly annoyed Jamie, although he quickly hid it.
When the meal was concluded, Lucian felt confident they’d done a good job of firming up their ties. However, he was smart enough to know their work was far from done. Like sex, there would have to be some morning-after cuddling and follow-up throughout the day to prove to their counterparts they were valued and memorable even after the interaction.
Seth would send a well-thought-out thank-you that would trickle down to their subordinates. Quincy would readdress the plans, putting them in a new, shiny light that left the impression of Patras covering every base and ensuring every T was crossed and ass kissed. It was all routine bullshit that came with the game.
Preston even commented on Antoinette’s bracelet, saying his wife would like something similar. Lucian would have Seth send him the gift in the morning.
He took care of the bill and they exited the restaurant together. Once the valet retrieved George’s Mercedes, they shook hands and said good-bye.
Toni let out a breath of air as if the entire evening had been unbearable. “Next time I get mad you don’t include me in business dinners, remind me how boring they are. Jeez, I should have stayed home and watched the Kardashians.”
Dugan arrived with the limo, and the three of them slid onto the seats. As the car jostled, making fast progress to Shamus’s condo, Toni said, “Where’s Evelyn?”
That same question had been in the forefront of his mind all evening. It was tiring, this new position he was taking with her. He didn’t enjoy constantly reining in his temper and his need for control, but he was trying to redevelop the trust he’d lost, and that meant trusting her.
“She had an appointment.” There was no need to make excuses to his little sister about things that were clearly none of her business.
“An appointment where?”
Jamie cut in before he needed to. “Antoinette, mind your own business.”
Toni crossed her arms and huffed. “Whatever.”
Ignoring the irritating lovebirds, Lucian gazed out the window until they reached Jamie’s. When Dugan opened the door he was surprised to see Toni exit the car as well. Nothing like having the visual of his sister being debauched driven home. He gritted his teeth and pretended everything was as it should be, wanting nothing more than to end this evening and find Evelyn.
He wanted to text her, but texting was an issue for them. He couldn’t call until he was alone.
“I’ll see you in the a.m.” Shamus said, leaning into the open door.
Lucian nodded and Dugan shut the door, closing him in welcome, dim silence. When his chauffeur returned to the wheel, Lucian instructed, “Knights Boulevard.”
The limo stealthily merged into traffic and headed in that direction as he pulled out his phone and dialed Evelyn. Her cell rang three times before dumping into her generic voicemail. He frowned and dialed again, only to end at the same result.
Shifting on the soft leather seat, he loosened his tie. This secretiveness was not palatable. As a matter of fact, it was infuriating him more and more with each passing minute. He removed his pocket watch and flipped the antique cover open. Her plans must have concluded by now.
As the limo approached her apartment he immediately caught the illuminated, unadorned window. She needed curtains. Lucian let himself out and faced Dugan on the crippled patch of sidewalk.
“Should I wait, sir?”
As he prepared to answer, something caught his attention. A man, roughly in his late twenties and carrying a leather messenger bag, exited the alley. Both he and Dugan stared as the man stepped from the mouth of the alley, the alley that led only to Evelyn’s door.
A fire snapped to life in his gut as all sorts of insinuating scenarios ran rampant through his mind in a blink of an eye.
“Oh, excuse me,” the man suddenly said, stepping around them, clearly not expecting others to be on the walkway at this late hour. Their presence was likely as surprising as, say, a man exiting Evelyn’s home at such an hour.
They trained their gazes on his progress to the little Toyota parked across the street and, as if reading his mind, Dugan said, “Follow him?”
Lucian’s teeth were clenched so tight it was a wonder his tongue found the space to form words. “Yes.”
His man nodded and returned to the idling limo, making no secret of trailing the Toyota. As he stood on the pavement alone, Lucian collected his wits. A thousand assumptions played devil’s advocate in his mind. When his temper was somewhat under control and he’d waited long enough to discount any perceived coincidental meetings, he entered the alley and knocked on Evelyn’s door. Seeing the newly installed security lights brought him comfort, but he made a mental note to have the landlord agree to security cameras. He’d handle the cost and installation as well as the monitoring feed.
The peephole darkened, followed by the opening of the door. Evelyn appeared surprised to see him. “Lucian.”
“Evelyn. May I come in?” She was wearing a sweatshirt and jeans and her silver eyes appeared weary. What the hell was going on?
She nodded and led the way up the narrow stairs. He was reminded again just how miniscule her chateau was as he ducked under the low-slung ceiling at the top of the steps.
“I wasn’t expecting you.” A small table had been added to her meager collection of furniture. Two chairs. She made quick work of collecting a stack of papers from the surface of the table and stashing them in a cabinet. The paperwork confused him and he regretted not having the gall to demand she let him see what it was. The bed was neatly made.
“How was your evening?” he asked.
“Fine.”
They faced off in silence, Evelyn’s gaze landing everywhere but on his own. This was bullshit. He had the urge to demand she fess up to whatever secrets she was keeping. What had the loan been for? Who was that man?
His senses prickled as a subtle trace of the man’s cologne drifted to him. His molars locked in place. The pregnant silence weighed heavily, so much so he wondered if her dollhouse of an apartment could withstand the laden presence. She fidgeted with the string attached to the worn hood of her sweatshirt.
His chest expanded with hot breath until he fought the urge to scream.
“Did your dinner go well?”
Small talk? Really? “Fine.”
She glanced at him and quickly averted her eyes. These were the signs of submission that went right to his cock. So strong and capable yet so delicate when handled rightly thus. He stepped closer and her fingers fluttered to her side. “You’ve been pushing me away.”
Shock registered in her stare. Her lips parted. They were so soft and pink without the need for gloss. “I . . . I was with you last night.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it. Today, at the market, your clandestine plans, which you refuse to enlighten me on—how many walls are we going to erect before we are two completely separate beings?”
“It’s only because . . .”
He stepped closer, interrupting her excuse. She made a sound of confusion low in her throat and looked at his shoes. Her feet were bare. Did that other man see her toes?
Her breath was shaky and the slight space between them became charged with his need to possess what he saw as his. He sensed her need building as well, the ever-present chemistry between them that was impossible to deny. His fingers reached for her chin and tipped up her face until she met his gaze.
There was no apology in those stern eyes that played between crystal blue and tinsel gray. She was stubborn as a foothill, and he needed to see her bend in some manner to satisfy his wilted confidence. No other woman had ever made him second-guess his actions the way she did.
He reached between them and gripped the sagging front of her cotton shirt, bunching it within his fist and yanking her across the last gap that separated them. No space.
“I spent nearly a month without you. I won’t do it again, Evelyn. Not in word or action will I tolerate such distance between us. I want you, in my life, in my days, in my bed, and I don’t intend to acquiesce all that much. You want your independence? That’s fine . . . for now. But there’s only so much a man can take.”
The soft pink curve of her lower lip trembled as she processed his words. His thumb dragged over the fleshy pillow just before his mouth lowered and took what he needed. Breath audibly drew in as she permitted his kiss. So much had changed, somehow tilting the axis of everything he was accustomed to and tipping the balls until they all came crashing down into her court. Enough.
She could hold on to her individuality and massage her pride, because he recognized that was something she needed, but he wouldn’t give into her every whim like some docile, dickless yes-man. The need to assert some force of authority raked at him until he was nearly clawing at his flesh.
Ripping his mouth from hers, he breathed heavily as he stared into those eyes, darker now, dilated with lust. “I want you naked.” She hesitated and before she could answer, he mumbled, “And tomorrow we’re getting you curtains. Anyone could see in here if they took the time to look.”
The side of her mouth kicked up. “Not feeling your inner exhibitionist?”
“There’s a difference between fucking you on my terms at the risk of being witnessed and displaying your beauty where I’m not welcome to stay and keep onlookers at bay. You’re by yourself here. You need curtains.”
All humor faded from her teasing expression, as she understood the danger of accidently tempting a stranger with a window show. She went to her bed and removed the coverlet. After a minute the window was blocked with the makeshift drape.
Turning, she said, “The value of submission is in the will to surrender, Lucian.” She removed her sweatshirt, a glint of challenge in her eye. No bra. Goddamn it. There had been another man here.
Drawing in a calming breath, he said, “And your pants.”
Her fingers toyed with the snap and zipper. “I think we both understand you own my body and my heart.” Denim met the floor and she wedged the jeans and panties off her feet with her heels. “You can take what I freely offer and accept that this is the most I can give at this time, or you can go.”
His cock pulsed at the image of her so beautifully naked before him. He wasn’t going anywhere. His smart little woman had discovered the power of surrender. He wasn’t surprised. “I’m not leaving.”
“It’s a two-way street. I refuse to give what you won’t. Compromise. Accept that this is who I am and respect my need for independence, and I will tolerate your need for control in other things.”
Well, wasn’t she just full of conditions tonight? So stubborn. So headstrong. So much like him. She made him proud and her stick-to-itiveness made her surrender all the more sweet. “You’re pushing me.”
She smiled. “And you’re pushing me. I’d say we’re well matched. If we can agree on the rules, we can play.”
She knew him so well, understood the logic he approached life with every day, and could bend him the way no one else could. She was treading on a fine line, playing with his need for control and demanding her own.
She bowed her head, her body a display of everything he wanted to possess, yet he also wanted her secrets. He wanted her mind. She made it . . . interesting. “Show me.”
When she gazed up at him, there was acceptance dappled in anticipation showing beneath her full lashes. “What do you want, Lucian?” Her soft whisper glided over his flesh like a caress. In the face of such driven self-reliance, her submission disarmed him. His need was so potent, beyond wanting, beyond simple lust. His desire to possess her was tattooed upon his bones.
She’d stripped his dominant side raw with those simple words. She laid him out, taking all distractions off the table and surrendering herself purely for him. In this manner, they always complemented each other.
So many women believed submissiveness was a weakness, mindless subservience enacted to inflate a male’s ego. They were wrong. It was strength. Her strength was the trigger. The strength to let go, the strength to trust in another’s ability to know how much they might take, the strength to believe they’re utterly beautiful without façades and conceit. Raw.
It was a woman bared in naked truth, secure enough to give over to her man, surrender every bit of struggle to be a queen at the top of the king’s mountain. There was such a high esteem in his mind for the strength it took to surrender here, yet remain empowered in the outside world. He felt nothing but utter admiration for any woman capable of collapsing such self-preservation after just one command.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as she folded her hands behind her back. If he asked her to undo his pants and suck him off she would, but he wanted to pleasure her. This was the one area she truly let go and trusted him. He lamented that he could so freely have her body’s submission and somehow she still held back part of her heart. He’d work on it.
Lucian walked slowly to the bed and removed his suit jacket. After loosening his tie the rest of the way, he slid it out from under his collar and draped them over the corner of the low mattress. Easing down until his back rested on her pillows propped against the wall, he said, “Come here.”
She obligingly stepped in front of him. When he arrived, he wanted to claw off her clothes and mark her like an animal. Now, however, something in her calmness had tempered his need. He wanted only to be with her, please her, make her cry out in a way no other man could.
He sat up and drew her to his lap. Her knees straddled his thighs and settled onto him. His fingers curled over her hips, thumbs teasing at the undersides of her breasts. He loved her.
Quiet moments like this seemed to scream the truth. He loved her and would do anything to protect her, to witness those limited moments of unburdened happiness that showed so seldom in her knowing eyes. She had had such an arduous life before him. He hated that his poor choices had somehow added to her strife.
Apologies rang in his head. He’d been such a careless bastard. How could he have allowed things to get so out of hand with Parker? Never again, he vowed. Never would he let her slip through his hands again.
With intrepid gentleness, he sifted his fingers through her hair and drew her into his kiss. Petite hands squeezed at his shoulders as her knees tightened at his sides. He kissed her slowly, but intensely, laving at her neck, lips, and shoulders until he slowly eased her to her back and pressed his weight into her.
The world fell away, hidden beneath the sensual fog that swallowed them. The tiny bed squeaked beneath their weight as he removed his clothing and pressed into her hot core. Her legs held him and her hands glided over his skin as he slowly filled her, his only intention to love her.
Fingers pressed into flesh. Mouths pulled upon tender parts, and their bodies tangled with unanimity. Gone were his worries of business and poachers. She was his and she owned him equally, mind, body, and soul.
After bringing her to climax several times, he allowed himself to let go and bathed her womb in his release. Her sigh of contentment matched his own. So rarely had he enjoyed plain old missionary vanilla sex, yet with Evelyn, there was no line of ordinary. It was all potent and all-encompassing.
His body collapsed beside hers as they caught their breath. Her dainty fingers found his and entwined themselves there.
“I’m staying the night,” he announced and she let out a resigned sigh, clearly sensing there would be no getting rid of him.
After several moments of simply basking in the aftermath of their lovemaking, she rose and went to use the bathroom. His eyes returned to that cabinet hiding her paperwork. What would a woman who can’t read beyond a primary student’s ability need with so much paperwork? He worried she could be signing something under misconceptions, and his need to protect her rode him hard.
He ignored his urge to investigate, feeling a bite of some unnamable esteem for his exercise in restraint. Trust. For some reason he knew it would mean so much more if she came to him with her secrets than if he demanded she share them. It was a difficult exercise in control and trust, but one he could savor the burn of—like a marathon he didn’t want to run, but found the value in walking.
Reaching in his pocket, he found his cell phone for distraction. His thumb swiped over the screen and found Dugan’s text.
2424 Glacier Place.
Residential area near Susquehanna Ave.
Appears to live alone.
Lucian quickly replied and tucked his phone away.
Run a check on the address and find out who he is. I’ll see you in the morning.
On cue, the reflection of the limo’s headlights danced over the blanket covering the window as Dugan pulled away.
***
There had never been a time Lucian was grateful for Evelyn’s literary shortcomings until now. As he glared down at the rag sprawled upon his desk, he felt like hurling his coffee across his office. In bold ink, his and Evelyn’s names sat like graffiti on every page. Never before had he resented the paparazzi so much.
Their assumptions of her background were preposterous and at the same time a little too close to the truth. What frightened him most were the references to Pearl. There was definitely a Judas among them, and when he discovered who it was, they would be handled accordingly. He wondered if the same person tampering with his personal life and leading the media to his door through crumbs of truth was the same person trying to swindle him out of his deal with Labex Green.
He’d run through all possibilities and unwittingly kept returning to the same suspect. There was only one person who knew of Evelyn’s past in such detail and only one person brazen enough to face off with Lucian in business. He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, wishing the fallout of their partnership and threats to disembowel the other man’s company would be enough to keep him in check, but it was time to admit he’d been wrong.
Tossing the paper in the trash, he punched his finger into the intercom. “Seth, get Slade Bishop on the line.”
“Yes, sir.” A moment later the intercom buzzed. “Mr. Patras, I have Mr. Bishop on line one.”
He picked up the receiver and Slade was the first to speak. “Lucian, this is unexpected.”
“Is this really how you want to handle this?” Lucian asked, cutting right to the heart of matters.
“I don’t understand.”
“Cut the crap, Slade. I know you’re feeding the press. I have to say, I’m impressed with the size of your balls, but it will only make it easier when I cut them off.”
The other man cleared his throat. “Lucian, I read most of the articles, but I’m afraid you’re off on this one. I haven’t spoken to the media about you or her.”
Lucian calculated for a minute. He sounded sincere, but after the stunt his ex-partner pulled with Parker Hughes, Lucian would never trust Slade again. “And what of Labex? You have nothing to do with that either?”
“I heard about your deal with Green. I assumed it would be wrapped up by now. Am I wrong?”
Lucian frowned. If not Slade, then who? His brain compiled a list of variables. Who would want to see Evelyn dragged out in front of the masses? Nicole was suspect, but surely she’d know this would do nothing to win her favor. She also would have no interest in a company like Labex, which meant if she were the one slandering Evelyn, it was completely unrelated to the business deal hanging by a thread.
Who had the manpower and resources to poach Labex? One name came to mind, but that was so farfetched he dismissed it immediately. No way had Hughes climbed that fast. Impossible. Didn’t matter who his father was. Such rapid success was unheard of.
He realized Slade was talking. “. . . really like to sit down with you.”
As Lucian pieced together what he’d missed in the conversation, he almost laughed. “While I’m glad to hear you decided against interfering further in my personal life, I have to say I’m not flattered to the point of social calls. We passed that the minute you assisted someone I consider my enemy, lending yourself the same title.”
There was a pause. “Luche, I’m not your enemy. I never was.”
“We continue to disagree. I’ll let you get back to your work.”
As he leaned in to hang up the phone, Slade’s voice rung out and gave him pause. “I saw what you did to Hughes.”
Lucian drew the phone back to his ear.
Slade rushed on, assuming he regained his attention. “I saw what you did and I assume you got her back.”
“I merely collected what’s mine.”
“I want you to know, for what it’s worth, my role in the situation was . . . regrettable. I apologize.”
As much as Slade’s apology should count for something, it didn’t. His actions spoke louder than words, driving home the point that the man could not be trusted. “We’re through here.” He ended the call, thereby ending his association with Slade Bishop. One Judas down. How many more to find?
***
The email came through at three fifteen.
Jason Dodd
Mother: Rebecca Esperanto-Dodd
Father: John Dodd
D.O.B. September 2, 1981
Current Address: 2424 Glacier Place, West Folsom, PA
Previous Address: 192 Lenox Ave, Cincinnati, OH
Prior places of occupancy: Room 206, Parks Dormitory, Triton University
No criminal record.
No unpaid tickets.
Moved to Folsom last June. Currently employed with the 34th School district as a behavioral specialist. Vehicle registered in his mother’s name. Home leased through a man by the name of Gregory Lutz. Aside from residing within a couple miles of Ms. Keats, I cannot find any cause for association. How much deeper do you want me to dig?
-D.
Lucian replied via text.
Follow him this evening and see where he goes.
Dugan’s reply was immediate.
Already done. He left work at two forty. I’ve been behind the Toyota since.
Lucian frowned. If Dugan was texting, he was parked.
Where are you now?
The reply took longer than usual and before he read the message, his sour stomach already guessed the answer.
Knights Boulevard. She just got home from work.
“Son of a bitch!” Lucian cursed and stood. His hand shook as he texted Dugan back.
Stay there.
He went to his call log and dialed Evelyn’s number. The call went to voice mail. Shoving his arms into his jacket, he dialed again. Voice mail. “Evelyn, it’s Lucian. Call me as soon as you get this.”
He marched past Seth’s desk and jabbed his thumb into the elevator call button. “I’m going out.”
As he rode the elevator to the ground floor, he seethed with each call to her voice mail. Why wasn’t she answering? Why was that guy back at her place?
He exited the elevator in the cool shade of the underground garage. His keys filled his fingers as his thumb tightened on the fob. The chant of his Mercedes unlocking in the distance was followed by the purr of the automatic start. Folding his body, he slid into the buttery bucket seat and threw the car into gear.
Cutting his turns tight, he belted onto the main road and dug in the console for his shades. It was in the low seventies, so he pressed the control on the dash and the soft top lowered, tucking itself neatly into the compartment above the trunk.
The car sped out of the congested traffic and took back roads toward West Folsom. Sure enough, when he spotted the limo on the corner of Knights Boulevard, the Toyota was only a few spots ahead, parked.
He peeled into the spot, shoving forward the gearshift just before his bumper went into the Toyota’s ass. Jumping out of the car, he pocketed his keys and ignored Dugan’s raised, bushy brow. Enough was enough.
Yes, she was allowed to have friends. Yes, she was allowed to have a life aside from him, no matter how much it made him crazy. Yes, she was entitled to her privacy. But this guy was in her fucking home, her home that consisted of a small cramped space dominated by a kiddie table and a bed. A line had been crossed. She wanted equality . . . He knew she’d never accept the situation if the shoe was on the other foot.