Page 26 of Bought
Her fingers tighten around the glass. “I’m not pretending.”
I tip my head. “You can lie better. I’ve seen it.”
Hand in the air, glass halfway to her mouth, she freezes. “When have I lied?”
“When you marched in here that first night, like you were made of steel, when you had to be terrified.”
“I wasn’t scared. Not really.” She exhales, relaxing.
“You don’t need to be tonight.” I take another sip. “I’m not going to take anything from you that you don’t want to give freely.”
She stares at me.
“You have to be honest with me. And more importantly, be honest with yourself. Understand?”
She looks away. “And what if I don’t know what I want?”
“You’ll know. Trust me.”
She gives a shaky laugh. “Arrogant.”
I lean across the bar, capturing her chin and forcing her to look at me. “Accurate.”
If I lean in a little, I’d be close enough to kiss her. She watches me with parted lips, our breath mixing. My eyes are drawn to the promise of blue lace peeking out from her neckline.
I run a finger over the curve of her breast, just above where the lace kisses. “Did you wear this for me?”
She shivers. Doesn’t answer.
Dragging my finger higher, I follow the curve of her neck. I reach for her face, cupping her chin, and force her to meet my gaze. “Only do what you want. Do you understand?”
She waits a moment, finally taking a breath. “Yes, Lucian.”
There it is. My name on her tongue. I’ll be hearing it in my mind on repeat for days.
Her phone rings, which seems to happen often. My hand drops to the cool marble bar as concern flickers in her eyes, darting toward the sound.
I ask, “Do you need to answer that?”
“I do.” She pops off her stool, digging her phone from her coat pocket. “Be right back.”
Who could be calling her? I give her a tight gaze. “You can’t take it in here?”
A slow flush creeps up her throat. She hates that it shows. One hand grips her ringing phone, the other raises her glass to her lips. She tilts her water and swallows as if the liquid will grow into armor from the inside out.
She clears her throat. “Do you listen in on all your guests?”
“I don’t have guests.” I let the truth hang in the air between us. “I have appointments. And they’re professionals. They know to turn their phones off.”
“So what am I?” she eyes me.
Sheer perfection?
I clear my throat. “Take the coat.”
She hesitates, weighing whether to obey. My jaw tightens with impatience. I give her a look, the kind a man directs at a woman who’s yet to be tamed.
And she takes the coat.
