“Never mind.”
She put her hands on her hips and stood right in from of him. “You might as well come out with it, since the truth is so important to you,” she added, failing to hide the sarcasm in her tone.
Lucien stared down at her, his eyes now black with anger. “You really are as heartless as everyone says,” he said with perfect clarity, then turned and stalked out of the room.
Alex had expected those words—it would have been a surprise if he had said anything else—and yet they still struck her chest like a weight. She slouched against her desk as Lucien’s angry footfalls receded down the hall. Until the only sound left was her own breaths. Until she was alone once again.
A few days later Lucien nearly tripped as he raced up the gleaming marble steps of The Bedivere Club. London’s private gentlemen’s clubs had always felt even more absurdly out of reach than the parlors and ballrooms of Mayfair. Yet here he was, entering one of the city’s most exclusive establishments. Behind him a line of fine carriages waited out front and it was not lost on him that if fate had offered even a slightly different hand, he might have been among them. A coachman like his father.
You still could be if this doesn’t work out.
Lucien grimaced at the unwelcome reminder. He needed to impress Benjamin Chisolm whether or not they decided to partner together. He was respected enough that he could sink Lucien’s chances for finding alternative funding with only a few words. And then even Alex’s support wouldn’t be able to save him.
If you still have it.
But Lucien dismissed the thought as he stepped into the small lobby. A beady-eyed man behind an imposing host’s stand gave him a dismissive once-over. “May I help you?” he asked in a tone that indicated the complete opposite.
Lucien knew he didn’t quite fit in here, with his non–Savile Row suit, hair in desperate need of a trim, and gold earring. But he was still the guest of a member. And in the end that was all that mattered. “Lucien Taylor to see Mr. Chisolm,” he replied, lifting his chin a little.
The host flicked a glance over an open book then arched his brow. “Wait here while I inform him of your arrival,” he said reluctantly.
Lucien let out a breath as the host disappeared behind a large oak door, leaving him blessedly alone for the moment. A particularlylurid mural depicting the seduction of Leda by Zeus disguised as a swan took up most of one wall. Lucien turned toward the large gilt-framed mirror hanging on the opposite wall and tried to calm his rattled nerves.
“You can do this,” he murmured to his reflection as he adjusted his already straight tie. Then he opened his satchel and considered reading through his proposal one more time, though by this point he had the blasted thing memorized. He forced himself to take a seat instead, but that left him with an excellent view of the mural. Lucien pulled out the proposal and began mindlessly leafing through the pages.
He had been so incensed by Alex’s frank admission that he actually stormed out of her office without it. That bloody woman seemed to think nothing of hiring someone to dig into his private life—and they hadn’t done a particularly good job if they couldn’t determine that the rumors of his affair with Madame Deveraux were just that. Rumors. Rumors spread by Rene to cast blame on Lucien and distract from his own affair with the woman, along with his embezzling.
Lucien had always maintained his innocence, but the truth was no match for a delicious piece of gossip. And certainly no one would believe that Lucien couldn’t possibly have bedded the woman because he was still avirgin. But regardless of his anger over Alex’s actions, Lucien still needed to be prepared to explain why the Parisian supper club had disbanded so suddenly. Chisolm would certainly ask. And he intended to be honest—about the embezzlement, at least.
The morning after his encounter with Alex, the proposal had been delivered to Alain’s flat along with a brief note:
Lucien,
Please accept my sincere apologies for last night. I never intended to upset you, but I suppose my intentions are irrelevant.
Here are my notes on your proposal. Best wishes on your meeting tomorrow.
Yours,
Alex
He had stared at that closing for far longer than he would ever admit.
Yours.
Had she meant it? Did she even comprehend what it meant to belong to someone? It seemed like a wildly intimate gesture for a woman who barely bothered to acknowledge most people. Even more so than touching his cock. He immediately began to read through her edits so as not to linger onthatparticular memory. There weren’t as many as he anticipated, which was a relief. But as he flipped through the pages, Lucien muttered a curse. She was nothing short of brilliant. Her suggestions, though sparse, were so sharp and insightful that he felt like an absolute idiot for not writing it that way in the first place.
No wonder those employees left her office in near tears.
Lucien then swallowed his pride and incorporated all of her suggestions into his proposal. By the next morning his ego had recovered and he mostly felt a sense of gratitude toward Alex.
Mostly.
“Follow me, Mr. Taylor.”
The host’s command brought Lucien back to the moment. It was time.
He was led through the heavy oak door and down a darkhallway that opened into a surprisingly cavernous, wood-paneled room. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the late afternoon sunlight while a fire sedately crackled away in the massive fireplace topped with an ornate jade mantel. Gentlemen turned out in impeccable suits that likely cost more than the investment Lucien was seeking were scattered about the room talking quietly or reading newspapers. Nearly everyone had a drink in hand. Benjamin Chisolm was seated comfortably near the fire in a forest-green leather club chair but quickly rose once he’d spotted Lucien.
