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I wanted to ask what was so perfect that he had to describe it with the word "fucking," but I thought better of it.
"It's just some stuff at work. A deal that's gotten completely out of my control." He scrubbed a hand across his face. "I don't know what I'm going to do about it, actually."
"That doesn't sound like you," I said, trying to be encouraging.
"No, it doesn't, does it?" His tone was sharp.
I stiffened. "Are you angry at me for some reason?"
"No." His denial sounded like a lie. That didn't prevent him from pulling me onto his lap and taking me six ways from Sunday when we tumbled into bed a few minutes later.
And it didn't prevent me from screaming his name when I came so hard I was momentarily blinded.
Orgasms aside, Lucas's foul mood put me in a foul mood. And the next day, after I'd hit the gym and taken a shower, there was a clear sign that my mood wasn't going to lift anytime soon. There was a call on the house phone from the lobby. "Your sister's here to see you, Mrs. Ford."
"I'm sorry?" My voice sounded tinny, as though it was coming from far away.
"Chelsea Maxwell's here for you," the hostess said brightly. "Your sister?"
My heart was hammering in my chest. Fucking Chelsea. "Oh, of course! Tell her I'll be right there!" I slammed down the phone, cursing and spluttering to myself. I had to get down to the lobby fast. She might make a scene, but there was no way I was letting my crazy sister up here. She might try to hide in one of the many bedrooms, and I would never find her.
I hustled into the lobby and spotted her blond head. Her hair looked as though it had been straightened recently, stick-straight without a flyaway in sight, in spite of the humidity. If she used my mother's prescription money for a blowout at a blow-dry bar, I swear to God…
She spotted me and jumped to her feet. "Hey!" Chelsea pulled me in for a big, squeezy hug then released me. A Cheshire Cat grin crossed her face. "I'm so glad we're going to finally hang out!" Her voice was too loud for the lobby.
People were smiling at us. We simply looked like two sisters who were thrilled to see each other. I just wanted to wrap my fingers around her throat and squeeze and squeeze, but instead, I gave her a big, fake smile of my own. "Hang out?" I asked innocently and in a voice several decibels lower than hers. "I don't remember making plans to hang out." I grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her through the lobby, the fake smile never leaving my face.
When we got outside, Ian was unfortunately waiting. "Mrs. Ford." He nodded. "Can I take you somewhere?"
"Uh… um…"
"Absofreakinglutely!" Chelsea charged forward. "We'd like to go to The Palm."
Ian looked as if he was abstaining from raising an eyebrow. "The Palm? Of course." He held the door open for my sister, and she slid in, tossing her hair behind her and not bothering to say thank you.
"Sorry about this," I said lowly to Ian. I'd never asked him to drive me anywhere without Lucas. I walked if I needed to get somewhere.
"Don't be sorry," he said with an easy smile. "Mr. Ford'll be thrilled that you finally put me to use."
After Ian put the car in drive, Chelsea turned to me. "Does he just sit here all day and wait for you?"
I just looked at her. "He can hear you, you know."
She tossed her hair again, and I fought the urge to grab a handful of it and yank. "I didn't say anything wrong. I just think it's cool." She pulled out her cell phone and proceeded to take a selfie against the luxurious leather seat.
"Where are you posting that?" I asked nervously.
"Nowhere. Just Instagram. And I'm copying it to Facebook and Twitter
." She looped her arm around my shoulder and took another one with me in it.
"What? No! I don't do social media."
"That's okay," Chelsea said, looking at the shot she'd just taken. "You have, like, five chins in this picture anyway."
"Gee, thanks." I tried to recover from her sudden appearance by leaning back against the cool leather of the air-conditioned car. "How's Mom? Is she still congested?"
"She's fine." Chelsea yawned. "She's always fine." My sister had never cared about my mother's illness. It was an inconvenience for her, and she didn't have time for inconveniences. She was too busy plotting, scheming, and getting her nails done.
