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“Nothing is happening,” I say with humour, but by the expression on Lucian’s face I can tell he doesn’t believe me.Idon’t believe me. “We’ve both had a drink. Please don’t read any more into this than me keeping up with my end of the agreement.”
“Very well.” Lucian releases my hands and slowly caresses the insides of my arms with the back of his fingers, the action so small, yet so incredibly sensual that it sends goosebumps rippling up my skin.
“Here.” Lucian removes his suit jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. His scent is all around me as the warm material encompasses me in a hug.
“Thank you,” I mumble.
Lucian nods once and we continue walking. He has been the perfect gentleman tonight, and on more than one occasion has made my heart go pitter-patter. But this is all an act, this isn’t real. I can’t allow my mind to get lost in the fairytale.
It isn’t long before the Range Rover comes into view. The front driver’s side is lit up by a flickering streetlight. It would seem Lucian’s driver McKenzie is fast asleep with his head slumped forward over the steering wheel. I’m amazed he hasn’t sounded the horn.
“I call shotgun!” Farrah calls, and I notice she no longer lies limp in Dante’s arms but has her arms wrapped around his neck, much to Lucian’s annoyance. He bypasses Dante—with a look that tells the bodyguard that they will be having words—and makes his way to the car window. Lucian balls his hand into a tight fist and knocks once, causing the old man to nearly jump out of his skin. The car door flings open and McKenzie stumbles out, apologising profusely.
“Don’t mention it,” Lucian says to his driver, yet his gaze is trained on me. “As it happens, we had a pleasant walk.”
Dante helps Farrah into the front passenger’s seat, and after fastening her in he joins me and Lucian in the back. It doesn’t go unnoticed that the gap between Lucian and Dante is considerably wider than the gap between Lucian and me.
This is too much;heis too much. I feel as though I’m drowning, in a situation I have zero control over. I need to regain control and I need to put distance between us. Despite my best efforts to sit away from Lucian, I cannot get comfortable. Which is unsurprising when squashed awkwardly against the car door.
“Stop fighting it,” Lucian whispers, and I do. I release my reservations and relax, finally allowing myself to sink back. On doing so my right shoulder fits snugly against Lucian’s chest and my thigh overlaps his. Each time the car goes over a bump or hits a pothole we’re jerked closer together. I relax my neck, and my head comes to rest directly below his chin. He places a kiss on my crown. “We’ll be home in no time.”
Home, what does that even mean?With Farrah staying with us Lucian has already made it clear that we are to share a room. There is no way in hell I am going to share a bed with this man. It’s not because I don’t trust him—the person I don’t trust is me.
Chelsea
Cool air blows against the side of my face and causes my eyes to snap open. I immediately sit up. I’m in bed, Lucian’s bed. The last thing I remember is Lucian escorting me to his bedroom. While he had a shower, I changed into a silk nightie and quickly slipped beneath the covers. With the duvet cocooned around me I lay awake and waited for Lucian to join me. My heart raced in anticipation because I knew that any second, he would be lying next to me.
I must have fallen asleep. Now I look around but can’t see a thing, as everything is shrouded in darkness. As my eyes become accustomed to my surroundings, the darkened silhouettes around me slowly take shape. I’m in a large bed with a heavy duvet over me. There is a nightstand to my right and a tall glass positioned in the centre. A sliver of silvery light seeps in from between a crack in the curtains, curtains that move like the ebb and flow of the sea, the result of an open window or balcony door beyond.
I yawn and use the back of my hand to cover my mouth. I’m about to lie back when something takes shape behind the curtain and a figure of a man steps into the room. But not just any man, it’s Lucian.
The curtain has been pushed all the way across, causing light from outside to pour in and highlight his bare chest. Dark shadows wrap around his pecs and the top of his arms. It takes a few seconds to realise they aren’t shadows at all but Celtic tattoos. The positioning of his tats is hot as hell and could be easily concealed by a long- or short-sleeved shirt. My eyes widen, and the coldness I felt moments ago is replaced by a wave of heat. I squeeze the duvet in my hands and lean forward to get a better look. His body is lean and muscular and looks as though it has been carved to perfection. His stomach is a mass of rippling muscles leading down to a waist that tapers in. The trousers he wore earlier hug his waist.
I knew Lucian was attractive, and he sure does look good in a suit, but I’ve never seen him like this before. My gaze travels up and comes to a sudden stop.
My God, he’s looking straight at me.
It feels as though my heart crashes into my chest as we lock gazes. He doesn’t speak, neither do I. He just stands like a shadow in the darkness, silently watching me, as I watch him. After a few seconds have passed, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes. He places one between his lips and heads toward the curtains. Inch by inch he begins to disappear behind the thick fabric.
“Wait,” I blurt out. Lucian stops walking and turns to face me. What the hell do I say now? I sit purse-lipped and watch the slow rise and fall of his shoulders.
“Do you want something?”
I don’t knoware the words on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t let them take shape. I pull the duvet up over my chest. I side-eye the pillow and bolsters beside me and notice they’re plumped up and the duvet is untouched. I try to swallow down the question burning on my tongue, but it’s too late, the words begin to take shape and I give them volume. “Where are you going to sleep?”
Lucian turns slightly and extends his arm to the sofa behind him. A sofa I sat on earlier during my dress fitting, and incidentally where Malachi’s gold-plated business card resides, pushed somewhere between the lumpy cushions. I remember how the springs dug into my ass. To say it was uncomfortable is the understatement of the century.
“You can’t sleep on that thing.” My words tumble out. “The sofa is horrible.”
Lucian takes the cigarette from between his lips and places it back into the packet, which he then tucks into his trouser pocket. “The sofa belonged to my late grandmother. It was once situated in her music room and was where I would sit and watch her play the piano. Call me a sucker for sentiment, but I happen to be quite fond of it.”
I sink into the bed, wishing the mattress had the power to swallow me up.Of coursethe sofa belonged to his dead grandmother. “I’m so sorry, Lucian. It’s not horrible, I didn’t mean that. What I meant is that it’s uncomfortable.”
Lucian shrugs. “I’ve slept on worse.”
Now that comment has me laughing. “I’m sure. A rich boy like you must have had it tough.”
Lucian closes the balcony door and steps closer. “Chelsea Janssen. Are you mocking me?”
