Page 3 of Lucien & Olivia

Made it to work. Love you.

Leaving work now.

But in between those texts, he sent one that made my heart flutter.

Be a good girl and pack the heels I like for tonight.

I rolled my eyes at that one, pretending it didn’t make my head spin and butterflies erupt in my stomach. I knew exactly which shoes he was referring to and I obediently went upstairs and slipped them into my suitcase.

I’m about to wrap my arms around his neck when his phone rings. Whenever we get interrupted, his lips thin, just a tiny amount. But his expression of annoyance quickly shifts away as our eldest son’s name appears across the screen. He taps the speaker button and sets it on the bar.

“Marco,” he says.

“You make it up to the hotel alright?” My eldest son’s voice sounds so much like Lucien’s now, especially when it comes through the phone’s speaker.

“We’re here, honey,” I chime in. “Are we still going to meet up with you and Freja tomorrow for dinner?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan,” he says. “Don’t say anything embarrassing because she’s here and you’re on speaker.”

My heart lifts. I’ve been trying all year to get Marco to bring his girlfriend to meet Lucien and he finally agreed to do it at the last minute. I know how nervous he is to introduce her tothe family. And on top of that, it’s a delicate situation because her father, the president of their university, doesn’t approve of Marco. Or his connection to the Italian mafia.

“Hi, Freja,” I say cheerily.

“Hello, Mrs. Esposito,” she says timidly. She’s got a timid, soft voice with a slight accent. I met her last year and she was sweet and quiet. Exactly the kind of girl I always saw Marco ending up with.

“Hello, Freja,” says Lucien, his deep voice cutting in.

I hear her gasp.

“Not cool, dad,” Marco says. “Be nice.”

Lucien’s brow twitches. “I just said hello.”

I slip my hand around his elbow, reining him in. “Alright, honey, we’ll see you tomorrow night for dinner. You have a good night.”

“Thanks, mom. Goodnight.”

Lucien hangs up the phone and I fold my arms, giving him a look. He knows exactly what he did and he finds it amusing, I can see a faint glimmer deep in his cold eyes.

“I just said hello,” he says again.

“She’s terrified of you,” I say.

He takes a step closer to me and his hand comes up, brushing my chin. “Why would anyone be terrified of me? Are you, Mrs. Esposito?”

Heat creeps through my body and concentrates between my thighs. He backs me up against the bar and my heart thuds. How does he get it to patter so fast after all this time? I swear it’s like our first night all over again. His hand slides down my waist and he grips my hip hard enough it twinges.

His mouth brushes my neck. Butterflies take off in my stomach.

“Oh,” I whisper, letting my head fall back against the bar. “I was terrified of you the first time we met. And even more scared the first time we slept together.”

His kisses burn up the side of my throat. My toes curl.

“But you did such a good job,” he says quietly.

Oh my God, it feels like warm water is seeping through my veins and making me ache between my legs. The ceiling is made of dark wood beams and soft cream tiling. It swirls, twinkling with lights and garland overhead. His mouth moves down to my collarbones, kissing slowly. Open just enough he leaves bits of wetness from his tongue as he goes. Heat curls down my thighs and my toes curl.

His hands slide down my back, pulling my hips against his groin.

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