Chapter 14
“Hearts can never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.”
~The Wizard of Oz
There is something so contrived about winter. It’s long, and bits of warmth are stolen from fabrications of man. Evelyn always favored the warmer months, and on days like this she savored every replenishing kiss of sunlight as it heated through her clothes and hugged her in a way her skin desperately needed.
For once, her feet simply trotted over ground with no direction as to where she should go next. Sharp, white blades of sky blurred the tops of buildings as she wandered aimlessly through the streets of Folsom. It was barely noon and she had hours to spare before her lesson, before Lucian finished work, before . . . anything.
Her body sunk into a bench, its metal planks forcing her posture into a pose she had no energy to hold. This dogged existence of climbing from one ladder to the next was wearing out her limits. She ached to crawl out of her skin and be someone else for a day.
People steadily passed in cars and on foot. She watched in a clouded form of wonderment. Where were they going? What did they do? Was there a purpose to their day? It all appeared convoluted and arbitrary at the same time.
Feeling like she’d run a marathon a lifetime long, she welcomed this jumbled form of inertia. Maybe Lucian was right. Maybe she was burning herself out, trying to cram too much in. Outlasting all else was her desire to be on par with others. She was twenty-three years behind in the game, and her struggle to catch up was beating her down like an iron fist.
It wasn’t fair. None of it was. Her life was a peephole, a tiny snippet of skewed reality that flipped upside down in the blink of an eye. Lowering her lashes, she eased her head back, drawing warmth from the rays that warmed her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her mind traipsed over sporadic clips of her past, visiting some longer than others for no reason in particular, clinging to certain specific memories.
“Wait. He’s a big coward!” Evelyn recalled her outrage at having borne the entire length of L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. “It’s all fake.” She shifted from her seat on the carpet of the library. Her back ached from lounging against the jagged bookcase display.
Parker folded the paperback over his thumb and frowned. “Well, it’s fiction, Scout.”
“Then why didn’t they make him real?”
“Because that’s not the way the story’s written.”
Her disappointment was a cramp in her heart. “He’s just a man.”
“It’s symbolic.”
Her lips twisted derisively. “Symbolic of what? How disappointing all their hard work to reach Oz is?”
“No. It’s a metaphor. All the pomp and fanfare, it’s all just glitz to disguise normal men. He’s just an ordinary man.”
“Exactly.”
Parker crossed his legs, tucking the book beneath his knee. The fabric was torn there much like she imagined the legs of the wilted scarecrow. Cynically, she said, “None of them even knew. The little dog figured it out.”
“Maybe they didn’t want to know. Maybe they wanted to hope there was something more out there, a man so powerful he had the ability to change their fate,” Parker argued.
“Maybe this book doesn’t make any sense.”
“It’s a fairy tale. It doesn’t have to make sense.”
But she wanted it to, desperately. She wanted to join the band traveling along the yellow brick road and be taken away to a better place. “Fairy tales are supposed to be happy.”
“Maybe that’s what makes this such a popular story, that it isn’t wrapped up in unattainable perfection. It’s flawed because there is no real magic, but the magic of an ordinary man willing to tell the people they’re more than ordinary travelers. Do you want me to keep reading?”
“Why bother? They went all that way for some measly trinkets. I don’t get why they’re so happy.”
“Because they were seeking validation,” Parker said as if she were missing the whole point. Maybe she was. “Their struggles are representative of the journey every person makes. There’s confusion and mishaps and villains along the way, but in the end it’s up to each individual to get where they want to be. We don’t need wizards or magic. That’s the point of it all. We just have to try and we’ll eventually get there in some form or another.”
Evelyn blinked through the blinding sun that bleached the darkness from the shade of her eyelids. She felt like Dorothy: lost, alone, meeting strange people along the way. When Parker finally finished the book, it had all been just a dream. Maybe that’s all they all were—dreams in the mind of some superior being.
Could you dream up something a little easier?
Sighing, she pushed herself off the bench and looked at the time on her phone. 12:47. She counted the cash in her pocket and decided to make use of her time until Jason came at three. Hailing a cab, she made up her mind to visit Pearl.
***
The halls to the rehab always smelled the same. Deodorized air shone over motes of dust that hovered in shards of light cutting through the white blinds at the reception desk where she signed in. The staff smiled at her, but otherwise ignored her presence as she made her way to her mother’s room.
She tapped her knuckles on the door, which eased open silently. Pearl was watching television and turned at Evelyn’s presence.
“Scout, what you doing here?”
She hadn’t realized how much balanced on the gamble of her mother’s recognition, but when her mother distinguished her as more than just a stranger, something broke inside of her and she started to cry.
“Oh, baby, what happened?” Her mom stood from the ugly mauve recliner and stepped close. When Pearl’s frail arms drew her in—physical contact—every bit of preservation fled and she sobbed into her mother’s meek form. She hadn’t felt her mother’s touch in years and she needed it so badly.
Tears erupted from Evelyn’s eyes as she drew in stuttering breaths. “I’m so lost, Momma.”
“Here. Sit.” She was drawn over to the bed and collapsed, her shoulders hunching forward in defeat. “What happen?”
The anomaly of her mother’s nurturing touch and sympathetic tone was her undoing. She wept like a child. She wept for all those times there simply wasn’t room for tears. She wept, because sometimes, no matter how old a person was, they simply needed a mother and today she had one.
Pearl waited quietly for her to explain herself. It was a novel form of patience displayed by her mother, and Evelyn wondered if this was the break she had asked for.
She was tired of pretending; pretending she could read and write, pretending the children’s books in her bag belonged to someone else. The unending marathon of her life had exhausted her and the finish line felt just as distant as ever.
And now she was back with Lucian, but not back to the way things had been. There had to be a happy medium, but she didn’t know if he could truly bend the way she needed and she feared losing him again.
All she ever wanted in life was to be normal. Was it even possible to be normal and in love with a billionaire? He was larger than life, and she valued the small things that most took for granted. She didn’t know where she belonged, and her heart was leading her down a very unpractical path she’d never traveled before.
Once her emotions were back under control, she blotted her eyes and looked at her mom. She looked well. In soft cotton pants and an ordinary cotton T-shirt, she looked nothing like the woman who raised her or stood by teaching her to raise herself.
Gaunt fingers, no longer stained with grime, brushed a strand of hair from her face. Muddy brown eyes, once so velvety tan, like chocolate, searched her face. “You okay now, baby?”
What could she say? Pearl’s standard of living was a version of poverty littered with squalor and accepted sacrifice that was never good enough for Evelyn. Pearl merely existed until it was time to clock out.
Evelyn had always been different. She’d wanted to run from the time she could walk. Her hunger had always been for something more than what was immediately available. Maybe she simply wanted too much.
“I’m so confused, Momma.”
“Confused ’bout what, baby?”
“Life.”
There would be no logical advice from her mother’s lips, but her presence of mind in that moment was worth more than any nostalgic diatribe of life’s do’s and don’ts. She shut her eyes and breathed.
“Life’s hard, Scout,” Pearl slowly said. She blinked at her mother’s unexpected comprehension. “I ’member back when I’s met your daddy. We had some good days. Once we even had a place to stay. It was real nice. Had a bed and toilet. We’s had that place ’til just before you came along.”
Her expression shuttered. That was the place her father was murdered. She didn’t know much about the man who created her, only bits of what she’d heard over the years. Pearl had been right next to him when he was shot point-blank to the head.
“He should’a been your real daddy. Not those men that came by. No. Not them.” Pearl’s head shook in slow denial and Evelyn frowned. “Them’s men was evil. They’s come and take everything we had. Took your daddy. Took our stuff. Even took me and left me near for dead.”
Evelyn’s lips parted as she tried to voice her question in the most delicate way possible. “Momma, did those men hurt you?”
Her mother’s stare became vacant, drifting off to blind moments of a past Evelyn hadn’t been present for. “Yes.”
Images flickered through Evelyn’s mind of her mother before life demolished her softness, before a life of drugs and prostitution eradicated all optimism for something better. She struggled to voice her question. There was violence and then there was defilement. “Did they hit you?”
“No. They’s come in shouting and shot your daddy. I was so shocked I cried and screamed. They just held me down and did what men do as I cried. Then they’s left me there to die. But I didn’t die. And then I’s had you.”
How had they gotten on this topic?
Her mother made a sound as if the memories caused her pain. “It was so hot that spring and as I lay there all I could smell was the blood. Smelled like copper pennies.”
Evelyn swallowed as something cold and unwelcome slithered through her insides. These details had always been coveted because they were mostly unknown, but now she wanted to erase them from her mind.
All Evelyn knew about her birth was that it happened in winter. How long were women pregnant for? Her father couldn’t have died in springtime. “Momma, what color eyes did Daddy have?”
“Brown like mine.”
Evelyn glanced at the mirror over the sink in the corner of the room and stared at her light blue eyes. Oh God. She’d never met her father, only held him as a memory of some piece of her she’d never know. But if what Pearl meant was that he had never truly been her father in any sense of the word—oh God—she felt robbed of everything and nothing at all.
“I have to go,” she wheezed.
Pearl turned, coming out of whatever trance she’d fallen into. “I’ll come with you.”
Evelyn stood and smiled sadly. “No, Momma. You have to stay here.”
All softness morphed into cold, hard angles as her mother glared. “No. I’m gonna come with you. We gonna go home. ’Nough of this place and pretendin’ to be people we ain’t.”
Evelyn shut her eyes and waited as Pearl, the mother who just held her the way she so desperately needed to be held, transformed into the selfish woman Evelyn knew too well. Her mom was sick. There were tests they could perform and specialists they could visit, but for what purpose? Beyond her physical ailments was an endless heap of mental issues. Labeling them solved nothing.
She slowly collected her bag as her mother argued. Her voice grew shrill with accusations, too cruel for Evelyn to listen to. As she backed out of the room, shutting away the raving woman on the other side, her mind shut off.
She walked the halls with no recollection of scenery or others passing by. It was all a blur until the moment she pressed the green button on her phone and heard Lucian’s voice on the other end.
“Evelyn?”
“Can you come pick me up?”
He was quiet for a moment. “Are you at work? Is everything all right?”
Thankfully she was out of tears. “I’m at Pearl’s.”
He didn’t ask how she’d gotten there or what had transpired in order for her to leave work early. He only said what she needed to hear. “I’ll be right there.”
Sliding the phone back into her bag, she realized she was outside once more. She walked to the curb and sat on the low lip of yellow-painted pavement and waited. The rehab was closer to Lucian’s estate than her apartment or the hotel. It would take him some time to drive there. As the minutes ticked by she thought of nothing beyond the ache in her back and the invisible weight on her shoulders.
Time passed in increments of devastated hope. The little bit she had in the world had just been cut down by half. The loss of those childhood imaginings, of a heroic father she lost before he ever got to hold her, were stripped down to nothing more than the remnants of a criminal act. She was the leftovers of the monsters who decimated the only home her mother had been able to lay claim to.
The insignificant pieces that amounted to her existence became the flesh and bones that held her together. And for the life of her, she couldn’t find the nerve to go on.
The slight pelting of drops barely registered as the sky gave way to spring showers. Her heated clothing grew damp and clung to her body, another weight to bear.
A delivery truck of some sort pulled into the lane separating her from the courtyard beyond the parked cars, as puddles pulled at her feet and darkened the hem of her gray pants. She wished she could simply wash herself away, float on to an easier place and forget these aches that added up to the sum of her.
The prattling engine of the truck came to life after the slide of a door. It grumbled as the driver pulled away from the curb and, as if the clouds parted to give way to the only spot of hope in her life, there stood Lucian before the sleek length of the black limo.
Separated by wet puddles upon pavement, the thread that tied him to her heart tugged as she met his gaze. There was no pity in those onyx eyes. Only clouded understanding that drew her in faster than gravity takes hold of a falling soul. Her knees flexed as she pressed her weight off the ground.
His expression was blank, an intrepid mask that lured her in. One foot moved in front of the other as she crossed the lot. His arms opened and she fell into his strength, drawing breath from his warmth and solitude from his unshakable stature.
She asked him to come for her and he came. No questions asked. He simply was there because she needed him.
“I love you.” The words fell out of her mouth and nothing inside of her wanted to draw them back. It was the simple truth, she loved him and she would always love him, because beyond his flaws and after his stubbornness, before his need to serve himself, he would always put her first. That was something no one in her life had ever done.
Her breath hung suspended like fragile icicles in her lungs as she waited for his reply. Perhaps it was her new knowledge of how she came to exist that insisted she hear his reassurance. Always less and now a bit lesser, her tattered dignity required the words. She needed his vow of love. It was the only bond that could possibly forgive and accept the shame of her conception.
“I love you too.” His arms sheltered her from the rain as he escorted her to the car. A thousand weighted worries eased with his easily given reply. She shivered in the cool interior as he settled in beside her.
It all made sense now. He would move hell and high water to protect her. It was an unfathomable awareness that nothing she could ever do would change that. There was no distance he would not cross to reach her if she called to him. Even when it came to what he’d done in the past, he merely let her go only to bring her home, surrendering everything he desired just to ensure she was safe.
The limo eased away from the rehab facility and she breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled her close. “Tell me why you came here in the middle of the day?” Lucian asked in a soft voice as he peeled a strand of damp hair back from her temple.
“I quit my job at Clemons.”
His shoulder tensed under the weight of her cheek. “How come?”
“A woman in my line started taking pictures of me. I think she was from the press. I chased after her and apparently we aren’t supposed to accost the customers. My boss was pissed and I overreacted because he wanted to change my shifts so I walked out and basically told him where he could stick the job.”
“Do you want your job back?”
She smirked. If she said yes, she had no doubt he’d somehow manage to resolve the situation for her. “No. I wouldn’t have stayed there forever. Maybe this is for the best.”
“So you left work and came to visit Pearl?”
“Yeah.”
“I assume it didn’t go well.” His large palm coasted over her damp clothing, pressing heat into her chilled skin.
“She recognized me for a change. It actually started out as an okay visit. I mean, I was upset, but . . . she . . . listened and made me feel better.”
“But that’s not how she was when you left?” He knew enough about Pearl and the way she treated her to know nurturing was not her mother’s strong suit.
“No.” She had the urge to let it all out, bare all, and hope he could catch all the broken pieces and mend her back together. “I don’t know who my dad is. I never did, but the amalgam of a man I concocted in my head, the image I carried around like a kind of a talisman since I was a little girl, that’s not him.”
She wasn’t making much sense. He waited for more of an explanation so she went on. Shame laced her confession. She never imagined her station in life could grow farther from Lucian’s, but it had. All within the span of a few moments with Pearl. She needed to tell him.
“The people who killed the man I believed to be my dad . . . they raped my mom. I think that’s where I came from.”
His grip on her tightened as soft lips pressed into the top of her head. The sigh he expelled spoke volumes of his regret. Something told her it was regret for her shame, however, not his. Inexplicably, she believed, after all he’d already accepted of her past, he wouldn’t be ashamed of her now.
“I’m sorry, baby.”
“It’s stupid to be upset about something so irrelevant. It changes nothing. It’s just another shift in the pieces I’ve stood on all my life, another unstable chip in who I am.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t change anything. You’re still you, and you’re more a compilation of your strength of will and personal experiences than anyone who played a part in the making of cells.”
“So why does it hurt so much?”
His chest expanded and he exhaled slowly. “Because those made-up memories were yours, and someone took them away. When you don’t have a lot, I imagine every bit counts, whether we acknowledge those parts of who we are or not. But this doesn’t change anything, Evelyn. You’re still the same person you were this morning.”
“Who is that?”
“Pardon?”
“Who am I?”
“You’re a young woman trying to find her way. You’re smart, courageous, loving, and honest.”
Her lips curled into a sad smile and she chuckled. “I’m Dorothy, the Tin Woodman, Scarecrow, and Cowardly Lion all rolled into one.”
He laughed. “What?”
“Nothing. I was thinking about that story earlier and how much it frustrated me.”
“The Wizard of Oz?”
“Yeah. I was so mad when I found out the great and powerful wizard was just a man behind a curtain.”
Lucian turned and softly said, “That’s all we all are. We’re just ordinary people trying to do great things.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, for the first time feeling at ease with that mediocre explanation of people and life. “I guess we are.”
***
The soft press of lips to the corner of her mouth had her lashes fluttering open. They were still in the limo. She’d fallen asleep.
“I want you to call Jason and cancel your lesson for tonight.”
She blinked as words crammed to the forefront of her mind, preparing to spill out in argument.
Lucian cut her off. “Either you call him or I will. You’re exhausted. I’m taking you up to the penthouse where you will take a long bath while I order dinner, and then I’m putting you to bed.”
“Lucian, there are some things I need more than sleep.”
He wasn’t angry, but his expression also told her he wasn’t budging. He held out his hand. “The phone, Evelyn.”
Her head was fuzzy and her nose was stuffy from crying. Rubbing the heel of her hand into her eye, she sat up. Maybe she should call it a day. The more her brain awoke the more she recalled why she wanted to sleep.
Shoving thoughts of Pearl and her morning away, she lifted her hips and dug out her cell. Lucian reached and she pulled her hand back. “It’s my responsibility. I’ll handle it.” He relented and she dialed Jason’s number.
After leaving a quick voicemail saying she wouldn’t be able to make their appointment that evening, she suffered an uncomfortable sort of guilt. She didn’t like making excuses.
“It’s for your own good,” Lucian said, rubbing his arm over her shoulder and easing her to the door of the limo.
She didn’t like that he knew what was best for her before she did sometimes, but he was probably right. She was muzzy headed and tired, emotionally drained. Still, she couldn’t give him too much credit or he’d slowly start deciding everything for her, and she wasn’t ready for that. “I wouldn’t have made the call if I didn’t think it was the right choice.”
His eyes narrowed, studying her, but there was a slight quirk to his lips. A smile. “So tough. Come on.”
The walk out of the limo was made in haste as it continued to rain, an otherwise beautiful day turned into a dreary smudge of inconvenience. Shoes squeaked over the pristine lobby floor, and all sound was buffered as the elevator doors closed around them.
When they arrived at the penthouse, Lucian walked her straight into the master bath and proceeded to prepare the tub. Soft citrus fragrances wafted to her nose as bubbles frothed against the porcelain walls. He helped her off with her shirt, expertly sliding each little button through its hole.
These were the moments she valued surrender. When they were alone and he took control, she was able to let go and simply be. She valued that time, loved his gentle authority. Somehow her needs in privacy were quite contrary to the control she needed of her own life outside these walls.
Her legs were stripped down to nothing, and he helped her step over the high lip of the tub. She settled into the warm water and groaned at the delectable way the heat seeped into her bones.
Lucian disappeared and returned with a plush, folded bath towel and sat on the chair at the vanity. She sensed his need to say something, so she faced him and turned off the faucet.
“I want to talk to you about our arrangement. We can talk at dinner or after you rest. I’ll leave it up to you.”
She frowned. The term “arrangement” didn’t sit right with her, not after she’d come to an understanding with her heart. “What is it you want to discuss?”
He shook his head. “Not now. Relax for a while. It’ll keep.”
“You can’t do that. You can’t say something like that then expect me to relax. And why are you suddenly calling it ‘our arrangement’?”
His thick lashes blinked at her in confusion. “I meant our living arrangement. And it isn’t anything bad, we just need to get a few things clear.” He stood and her body refused to go after him, too comfortable in the heat of the silky water.
“I’ll order dinner in a half hour so you have time to unwind and clear your head.”
Yeah, like that was going to happen now.
He kissed her hair and left the room. Evelyn soaked for what she assumed was fifteen minutes, then climbed out of the tub and did a quick rinse and scrub in the shower.
On Lucian’s bed she found a white dress shirt laid out for her and slipped it over her shoulders, buttoning it down to her thighs. The scent of dinner wafted through the hall, and her hunger announced itself as she settled into the chair across from him.
He smiled. “Feel better?”
“Yes.” She lifted the cover off her dish and found a succulent slice of beef cradled in a nest of fresh greens. Lucian nodded at her, quietly prompting her to eat.
After several bites, he said, “There’s a party at Antoinette’s condo this weekend. It’s for Jamie. It’s his birthday. I’d like you to go with me.”
“Sure.” She nibbled on a sprig of asparagus. “I guess he and Toni are really an item now, if she’s throwing him parties at her home.”
He grumbled something under his breath, telling her he still didn’t approve of the match. “Shamus doesn’t know about it. It’s a surprise.”
“Oh. Will he mind?”
He cocked his head and lifted a shoulder. “We’ll have to wait and see.”
“Are you going to get him a gift?”
“I ordered his gift this morning.”
No time like the present, she thought. “What did you get him?”
“A Spider.”
“You got him a bug?”
He laughed. “No. I bought him a McLaren Spider. It’s a high-performance sports car he was drooling over at a trade show we caught last time we were in California on business.”
Wine went down the wrong pipe and she choked. “You bought him a car?”
His lips twisted. “To call this a car is an insult. It’s a quarter-of-a-million-dollar machine that can travel up to two hundred and four miles per hour. It’s built for racing so the safety features are extraordinary, yet it’s luxurious as well.”
Her jaw unhinged as she stared at him. She’d never be able to conceive that type of money. The fact that Lucian had it freaked her out. Sure, he lived in the lap of luxury and invited her to many fancy places, but good grief! She couldn’t justify buying nongeneric cheese.
When she continued to gawk, he placed his fork on the gold filigree rim of his dish and asked, “What?”
“You bought him a quarter-of-a-million-dollar car! What do you mean, what?”
He shrugged. “Shamus is a good friend.”
She scoffed. “I can’t even comprehend why such a thing costs so much. And who in their right mind wants to go that fast? Where do you even go to drive that fast?”
“The Autobahn.”
“What’s that?”
“A federal expressway in Germany with no speed limit.”
“Are you trying to kill him so he stops dating your sister?”
He frowned and she winced, regretting her words. He wouldn’t find that joke funny, not after losing his ex-lover in a motorcycle accident. “No. I thought he’d like it, but now you have me second-guessing my gift.”
She shook her head. Who spent that kind of money on gifts? “What did you buy your sisters for their last birthdays?”
He tilted his head as he thought about his answer. “Well, I gave Toni her condo, and Isadora—she’s a little more difficult to please—I gave a chateau in Italy. She visits there each August.”
Her skin felt heavy on her face. There was no precedent set to react to such an outlay of money. “Don’t ever spend that kind of money on me.”
He pursed his lips and said, “Are you finished eating?”
Yes, she couldn’t stomach another bite. “Yes.”
“Come sit with me. We need to talk.”
Her stomach twisted. Each step toward the sofa was heavy with trepidation. Her body settled beside him and she waited. Whatever he needed to say was going to be big. She could sense it.
He loosened his tie, the shadowy skin of his throat as tanned as the back of his hands. Once he settled comfortably into the cushions, he announced, “This isn’t working for me.”
The blood drained from her face in a whoosh that left her dizzy. “What?” she croaked.
“Our situation, it isn’t enough for me. I want more.”
Shockingly, no tears filled her eyes. His words trod over her like little daggers, each one burying itself deep in her heart. It was too much, too much agony, too much reality, too much shock.
Warmth surrounded her fingers. “Hey, you’re shaking. Evelyn, take a breath. Do you want some water?”
She must have nodded, because he stood and returned a moment later with a glass of cold water. She guzzled the entire thing and still was thirsty.
Where would she go? Back to her apartment, she supposed. But then what? She couldn’t go back to that place where she and Lucian didn’t exist.
She’d become so dependent upon him being in her life. Shock was an agony she could cauterize. She’d thought, after the last twenty-four hours, they’d reached a place of security and agreement.
He came for her, said he loved her, and she loved him. Love was all she could offer, but her ever-present fear of not being enough cut her down quick, and she choked on a sob as everything she held so dearly threatened to rip away.
“Maybe you should lie down. I should have waited to talk to you about this until after you rested.”
She had the instinct to run, but her body was so numb she feared she’d barely be able to stand. Her throat was dry. It was work to swallow. When she managed to produce a normal amount of saliva in her mouth, she asked, “Why?”
“Well, for one, I want you living under my roof. This nonsense of living apart is a step in the wrong direction for us and—”
“Wait, what? I thought you were breaking up with me.”
His eyes widened as he drew back in apparent shock. “Why the hell would you think that?” He actually sounded angry.
“Because you said it wasn’t working out, that you wanted more.”
“Yes. More of you!”
Oh. As her mouth hollowed around the silent word, she blew out a shaky breath.
“Evelyn, I’ve told you, you’re not getting rid of me. Ever.”
A tumultuous smile stretched her lips as pure satisfaction purred from somewhere within her chest.
“Can we talk now?” he asked, face tight, reflecting a cross between amusement and suspicion.
Her confidence slowly reestablished itself. “Yes. Let’s talk.”
Watchfully, he nodded. “Like I was saying, I want more. I know things have . . . escalated between us. I doubt either of us predicted falling in love, but I do love you and you love me. I’m not going to press for marriage until you let me know you’re ready, but I see no need for this distance. There are certain things I need in life and you’re one of them. I want you here, by my side, always there when I wake up in the morning.”
Images of her apartment broke away like figments of clay. Moments ago, the idea of having only her apartment to return to seemed like the most desolate end. It was only an inanimate structure. When she mistakenly thought she was losing Lucian, she realized how lifeless and empty her place truly was without him. But she wanted them both. She wanted her independence and him. That apartment symbolized more than four walls to her.
“I can stay over, but I won’t give up my home, Lucian. It’s important I have a place outside of what you give me.”
“Why?” This obviously wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but he seemed to be open to discussion.
“Because I’ve never had such a thing, and I won’t give it up before the novelty wears off.”
“But you expect the luxury of having your own place to wear off?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what to expect. All I know is what I want. I want you and I want my own home. If you want me, you’ll have to compromise and accept that this is something I need right now.”
If she were being honest, she missed living with him as well. But this was an important stepping-stone for her. She was proving she could stand on her own two feet. Lucian should understand that, being that he held such high regard for control. He’d shown her firsthand how empowering control should be, and she was finally taking charge of herself.
“Assuming we agree that you keep the apartment—”
“Accepting, Lucian. Because I am keeping it.”
Narrowing his eyes, he continued. “I still want you to treat my homes as yours. I’ll hire a decorator and you can remodel the penthouse as you see fit. We can do the same at the estate and when we visit my other homes, if you want to change them, you can do as you please.”
“Other homes?”
He smirked. “I have eight homes, Evelyn. My estate outside of Folsom; one in Aspen; one in the Hamptons; another off the coast of Florida; a condo in Vegas; a small cottage in Carlingford, Ireland; a mansion in England; and a brownstone in Manhattan. Huh, I guess that’s nine, actually, if you count my home here at the hotel.”
She pushed every word away, not equipped to process such wealth and possession. Her mind focused on the salvaged table and chairs she’d bought the other day. She didn’t know the first thing about decorating. Stupidly, she said, “Maybe we can start with new placemats or something small.” He was insane giving her that sort of authority.
“Whatever you want. I want my homes to be equally yours.”
But they aren’t.
“I want to take care of you, Evelyn. Every time you ask me for something, whether it’s to come to your rescue or simply kiss you good night, it gives me a rush, a feeling of purpose I’ve never experienced before. I want you to be independent and focused on bettering yourself so that you’re happy, but I like that you need me. I want it to be my responsibility to keep you safe. How do you feel about that?”
Warmth bloomed in her chest as she remembered how it felt to see him come to her rescue that afternoon. “Well, that’s sort of your role whether you ask me or not. I do see you that way. I know I can come to you with anything and you’ll help me. But I can’t go back to the way we were. You’d go off to work and I’d wander the condo. I need my life to be more than that.”
He hesitated a moment, then asked. “Once you get your education, which you will, what do you want to do? I can help you get there.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know myself well enough to know what I’m passionate about. This is the first chance I’ve had to take time to do for me, and I need it. I need my own stability. I’ll stay here from time to time, but I need a home to go to.”
“You have several.”
She smirked. He was insistent. “So long as you respect that one is solely mine.”
He sighed. “I can accept that. For now.”
“Good,” she said, not seeing the point in putting a time limit on what she didn’t yet know.
“Good. On that same line of trust, I want to readdress the issue of a safe word.”
Her body had a gut reaction as she recalled the only time she’d ever needed to utilize her safe word. He’d pushed her too hard, not physically, never that, but emotionally. She didn’t like the presence of that memory in her mind and tried to force it back into some dark cavity of her brain.
“I just want to be clear,” he continued, “that, no matter what, your safe word will always be respected. No matter what. This time, however, it won’t mean our time’s concluded. It’ll mean we stop whatever we’re doing, regroup, and discuss matters once everyone’s calmed down. Agreed?”
She liked having that sort of safety net. “Yes.”
“Do you still want your word to be ‘checkmate’?”
She nodded. There was nothing more fitting than a word that meant the king was pegged. This was all very familiar to the terms they started their association with. She didn’t understand why he felt the need to readdress such matters. Then he dropped the bomb on her.
“I want the dynamic of our relationship to grow in trust, and I think the only way we can do that is to jump right in. I want you to try something with me. Over the next month, I want you to surrender to me, not just sexually, but completely. I want you to trust me to make the proper decisions regarding your well-being and safety. When I say you should do something, I want you to do your best to get it done. When I say no, that’s the end of it. No arguing. You trust me to have your best interests at heart.”
She held up her hand. “Checkmate.” His brow arched and she explained, “You’re going too fast. Submission in the bedroom is an entirely different practice than submitting my independence.”
“You will always have your independence. I can’t change who you are, nor do I want to.”
Objections sprinted to the tip of her tongue. There was sexual surrender and then there was free will, something she always held tightly to. “Lucian—”
“One month, Evelyn. If you don’t like it, we go back to the way things are. It doesn’t mean we’re over. I believe this is right for us. All of your life you’ve had to decide what was best. I want to give you this gift, unburden you from all that stress. I swear I’ll never treat you as anything other than my equal. Surrender takes more strength than authority demands. I’ll take full responsibility for your health, happiness, and general well-being, and you’ll let me. I see it as a win-win. I’ll be there to take care of you no matter what, but in return I want your complete honesty and trust.”
They’d traveled this road before. When they first met they’d had similar discussions, and her answer was always the same. Trust could not be forced and free will could not be surrendered. “It won’t work.”
“How do you know if you don’t try?”
“Because I know me. I’m stubborn and when I want something, I won’t back down.”
“If there’s something you want, and there’s no harm in having it, I’ll provide it for you. All you have to do is ask. What you’re missing is the fact that I’m relieving you of the struggle. I want the gratification of granting you life’s simple pleasures.”
“Why is what we have not enough for you?”
He took her hands. “It is enough. You are enough for me, but I believe we can have more. There are certain things I want. I like authority and order. I’ve watched you come such a long way from where we started, and there have been moments I’ve suffered through silently, watching you struggle—knowing I could fix a situation for you—but I held back because I didn’t want to bruise your pride.
“You’re a remarkable woman and that’s a compliment I’ve never paid another female and, in my business, I’ve met my share of impressive women. All of these secrets and unnecessary shame, they’re taking something incredible away from us, and I don’t think you even realize it. There’s nothing you could tell me that will diminish my love for you.
“Imagine what it would be like, Evelyn, no longer having to worry about money, to have everything you need at the tip of your fingers. I want to see you accomplish your goals as much as you do. I too, draw pride from your success. All I’m asking for is thirty days. Try for me. Surrender. You can continue to see Jason and I’ll arrange for anything else that helps you get where you want to be. I can give you anything if you’d just let me.”
Well, there wasn’t much to complain about there. Thirty days, not a lifetime. What was the harm? She’d wasted more time trying things the hard way, and here was this incredible man offering her the world on a silver platter.
“Would I still get to see Pearl?” There were certain things she simply couldn’t give up.
“Of course, but I don’t want you to work, at least not now. I believe you’d be much better off focusing on your studies. Most students don’t work. Embrace this stage and the next will come in time. Tackle one dream before you try to conquer the world.” He laughed affectionately and dragged a finger over her ear, tucking her hair behind it. The affectionate gesture made her feel safe and warm.
Work wasn’t really an issue for her after today, and the idea of finding another job, yet again, was daunting. “What if I want something, really want something, and you tell me no.”
“Then you have to trust that I’m making the right choice for everyone. I’m not perfect. You’re always entitled to a different opinion, but there will be times we won’t agree and I expect us to discuss the matter respectfully and honestly. Truth is a major part of this sort of relationship. You can never lie to me, Evelyn. Never.”
“What if I know you’re making the wrong decision?”
“You’ll just have to trust me. I’m sure to make mistakes, which I’ll take full responsibility for, but they’re my mistakes to make. Thirty days, that’s all I’m asking. Then the choice to continue or go back to the way things were is yours. You have all the power here. You’re simply entrusting it to me for a short period.”
Her head rolled from side to side on her shoulders as she weighed her options. Was what he suggested really that different from how they lived now? Thirty days would tell.
“All right.”
His brows lifted. Clearly he hadn’t expected her to agree so easily. A slow smile curled his lips and she caught a glimpse of his perfect white teeth. He leaned close and traced his lips over hers. “You make me a very happy man, Evelyn. Thank you.”
Breathing deep, her blood and bones melted into warm liquid heat as the touch of his mouth seeped all the way to her sex. Her body tightened expectantly. She wanted him.
Moaning softly, she leaned into his kiss and he pulled back. A satisfied smirk played on his lips, creasing his eyes. “You need to sleep.”
The lightness of her expression crumbled into a pout. “I’m not tired anymore.”
He raised one dark brow. “You’ve been going a hundred miles a minute. You had a rough day, and there are dark circles under your eyes. I don’t want you coming down with something because you’ve exhausted yourself. I want you to go to bed.”
If she went to bed, she’d stare at the ceiling. She truly wasn’t tired anymore. She wanted to make love. “I—”
“Surrender, Evelyn.”
Her lips pursed as her chin dropped. Well, this wasn’t fun.
Whatever her expression was, it made him laugh. His palm touched her knee and patted her bare skin. “Come on. I’ll tuck you in.”
She stood and her body ached. “I’m not a child.”
“Of course not. If you were, the things I’m planning to do to you when you wake would land me in jail.”
Grumbling under her breath, she climbed onto the thickly made-up bed. The cool satin covering the down comforter sunk beneath her weight, and she turned to collapse in the cloudlike pillows. Sweet heaven, this bed was so much more comfortable than the one she’d bought.
Her hips lifted as he drew back the coverlet and tucked her legs under the pressed linens. This was a bed made for sleeping—among other things. Her eyes drooped heavily as he switched off the bedside lamp.
Leaning over, his dark eyes creased. “Not tired, my ass,” he said as he kissed her good night.
“Are you going to be working?” She sounded groggy, but she still wanted to make love.
“For a bit. I have to finish up some things I left behind. Seth’s coming by to drop off some papers on this deal we’re hoping to close soon, and then I’ll be in.”
“Wake me up when you come in.” Her eyes closed and she sighed.
The weight of his fingertip traced her brow, dragging down the arc of her nose and to the curve of her lip. “I decide. You sleep. I love you.”
Bossy. “Love you too,” she mumbled as her mind clouded with dreamlike images that made no sense and she let go.