Page 12 of Tell Me

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t think I remember what you’re talking about.”

Liar. He knew exactly what I was talking about, and the slight smile on his lips told me so. He could probably remember everything about that promise, including the moment he made it. Lucien Boudreaux might look like nothing more than an underwear model, his cheekbones sharp and his lips lush and begging to be sucked on, but he had more brains than the rest of his family put together. Those dark eyes were more intelligent than they had any right to be, and I didn’t think he’d ever met anyone he couldn’t outsmart. He was impossible to fool and quick to remember everything, and though that made him a valuable ally, it also made him dangerous.

The sinister charm dripping off him didn’t help.

The man was both angel and devil, and always had been. He was the first boy I’d ever kissed—behind the library when we were only thirteen—and I’d been so head-over-heels in love with him that I’d barely been able to walk away from the experience. I’d wobbled and he’d caught me, his smile knowing, and with that one grin, he’d wormed his way even deeper into my heart.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever recovered.

Which made this situation really inconvenient. Bad enough to be in the town I hadn’t seen in ten years, fighting with people who weren’t my problem and against a father who couldn’t be bothered. Now I had to grapple with my first love, too?

Actually...

I felt an answering grin slide over my own lips.

This might be exactly the opportunity I’d been waiting for. I’d thought I could go to the Boudreaux clan to get the help I needed. But it looked like the Boudreaux heir had come to me.

I stepped closer to him and rested my fingertips gently on his chest, looking up into his eyes and breathing him in. The scent of oak and sandalwood filled my lungs, reminding me violently of the nights we’d spent together, but I put those thoughts out of my head.

I had work to do.

“And here I thought you had a memory that didn’t let anything go,” I murmured.

His eyes got even darker. “I have a lot of things that don’t let anything go.”

I lifted my brows in question. “And your memory is no longer one of them?”

I watched him see my trap... and step right into it. “I remember every conversation I’ve ever had.”

“Then I’m guessing you remember the one where you told me you’d do anything in your power to help me if I ever needed it.”

He leaned back a fraction of an inch, his gaze darting to my mouth and back up, and I wondered if he was going to lie. He was better at it than most people—could do it while looking as innocent as the day was long—but he’d never tried it with me. At least not that I knew of. I mean I guess I wouldn’t. That would defeat the purpose of lying. But still. This was the man my father had tried to force me to marry when I was eighteen—and the man I’d loved first.

I’d like to think that meant he was more honest with me than he’d been with most other people.

When his eyes came back to mine, they were even blacker than before, and I didn’t have to ask to know he was remembering the same things I was. A meeting where our fathers told us they’d agreed to marry us. A contract combining the families, my father taking an equal interest in all Boudreaux holdings and vice versa. A moment where Lucien and I stared at each other, half horrified at being pawns and half desperate for the union. We spent our teen years in and out of each other’s company, our paths crossing whenever I was in town, and that kiss behind the library hadn’t been the only one.

I felt at the time like my entire life had been leading to that moment.

And when he started courting me and began bringing me down to the catacombs to seduce me, his hands soft and insistent, his lips the balm to every ache in my body, I hadn’t said no. I’d never told him to stop.

I’d been too in love with him.

Then I found out what my father was actually up to, planning to shove me into the Boudreaux organization as a spy, and had started to think Lucien’s father was playing the same game. When I asked Lucien about it, he denied it... but hadn’t given me much reason to believe the denial. I’d concluded that he was in on it too, and that they’d all been using me.

And I’d abandoned New Orleans and run for New York, swearing that I’d never get involved in the politics of New Orleans again. I’d never looked back. Instead, I’d thrown myself into everything about New York and then Los Angeles, using the traffic and sunshine of LA and intrigue of New York—plus the families I loved there—to bury the gothic romance of New Orleans and the marriage that almost happened.

But I’d never been able to forget Lucien. And based on the way he was looking at me right now, he had the same problem.

“Well?” I asked softly.

He swallowed heavily, eyes narrowing to slits. And then, to my surprise, he leaned forward and claimed my mouth as his own.

10

LUCIEN

Fuck, she tasted just as good as I remembered.

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