Page 58 of Coveted

In the photo, my mother’s cheek presses against mine. Our smiling faces are faded around the edges, weathered but intact. I was twelve years old at the time.

“Mom let me ditch school so we could visit the zoo together.” I take the tiny oval-shaped photo from Lucan with reverence. “The giraffe had a baby. I was dying to see it.”

Cupping the photo in my hand, I smile at the memory.

“And did you?” asks Lucan. “See the baby giraffe?”

For some reason, hearing him ask about a cute baby animal makes me laugh. He seems too scary and dangerous for that.

“Yeah, I saw it.” My vision blurs with tears. “It was really sweet.”

He nods in apparent satisfaction. “Good.”

“Thank you.” I pause. “That was considerate. For a stalker.”

“Sure, no problem.” His black eyebrow quirks. “What did you think I was returning to you?”

I blink the tears from my eyes. “My underwear.”

He flashes a devastating smile. “I would never return those. They’re mine now.”

Lucan’s definitely an ass, but maybe he’s human.

Maybe.

Jury’s still out.

“How about your family?” I ask. “What are they like?”

A muscle in his jaw ticks, but he doesn’t drop my gaze. He never seems to.

“My family.” He cracks a knuckle. “Let’s see. My father lives between New York and this estate, but he travels constantly for work. My mother moved to Switzerland five years ago. I’m their only child and sole heir. I have extended family here and in England, with a few branches in Australia, Hong Kong, and Brazil. We have offices in eleven countries and our lineage traces back to William the Conqueror.”

I’m quiet for several seconds, processing the onslaught of information. Though he said a lot, all of it could probably be found online with a quick search. He said little that was actually personal or revealing.

Maybe that’s how billionaires have conditioned themselves to speak, because saying too much could put them at risk.

How funny that I can relate to that. Secrecy feels safe to me too.

“Wow, I’m jealous you can trace your family that far,” I say. “I don’t know mine beyond a couple of generations on either side.”

“That means you’re free to be whoever you want,” says Lucan.

“Honestly, it doesn’t feel that way.” I look at the setting sun through the window. “It feels like I come from nowhere and have no roots. No one behind me.”

I regret my vulnerable statement because Lucan says nothing in return. He just stares at me in his icy, perceptive way that makes me feel like I’m under X-ray. Like my spoken words aren’t enough for him, so he’s trying to read my thoughts too.

“Do you see your mother often?” I ask, to put the subject back on him.

Instinctively, I know it’s a loaded question. Something about the slight inflection when he spoke about her.

Sure enough, Lucan’s voice turns cold and low. “Why ask me that?”

Although his switch in tone is disconcerting, I experience the tiniest flicker of power too. For the first time, I’ve managed to catch him off guard.

I don’t push him though. His gaze is too ferocious, his potent energy making the room suddenly feel oppressive instead of cozy. I pull my bag higher in my lap, as if shielding against his unwavering attention.

He frowns out the window at the flawless emerald grounds. “You want to go.”