If their chauffeur had any idea of what had taken place in the seclusion behind his privacy screen after they’d left the restaurant, he didn't allow it to show on his face as he held Sophie's door open for her to climb in. Lucien slid in beside her, and as the car moved away into the heavy traffic Sophie leaned wearily against him. He stretched his arm along her shoulders and stroked her hair.
"Tired, princess?"
His fingers settled on the curve of her neck, a slow, firm, massaging pressure that made her tip her head back onto his arm in pleasure.
"Bushed."
"No clubbing tonight for you then?"
Sophie's feet ached from sight-seeing and her body ached – admittedly pleasurably - from the sexual marathon of the last twenty-four hours.
"Can we maybe just stay in?"
Lucien frowned. "With Paris on our doorstep?"
Sophie rolled her head sideways to look at him. "We can look at it from the balcony."
His eyebrows were still lowered.
"What's wrong?" Sophie lifted her head and scrutinised him.
He shrugged. "I just don't want you to get the wrong idea."
She laughed softly. "Staying in is too domesticated for you?"
Lucien's mouth twisted to the side. "I don't do cosy nights in."
"Lucien, you are officially the least cosy man I've ever known, okay? I'm just knackered." It crossed her mind too that a night in at the incredible penthouse was hardly the same as slumping on a suburban sofa in front of a soap opera.
He scanned her face for a few seconds and then sighed.
"Fine. We'll stay in. We can eat on the balcony."
Dinner for two on the balcony overlooking the Eiffel Tower had romance stamped all over it in bright red ink, but Sophie refrained from mentioning it. It sounded beyond heavenly, and she knew that if she did he was likely to suggest something far more exhaustingly depraved as an alternative.
"Can we watch a movie too?" She pushed her luck for the hell of it.
"Only if it's porn."
"An Officer and a Gentleman?"
"Emmanuelle?"
Sophie smiled and closed her eyes as she rested her head back on his arm.
"I'll meet you in the middle. Nine and a half weeks."
Lucien pressed send on the thank you email he'd just composed to Louis Duval, one of his oldest and closest friends. A man who'd grown up in the school of hard knocks, Louis had recognised a kindred spirit in Lucien the moment he'd shown up for a job interview as barman at one of his adult clubs in the French capital. The older man had seen the spark behind the young Norwegian's scowl, and he'd taken the time to mentor his protege from barman to businessman. Over the intervening years they'd remained firm friends, and it was as Louis's guests that Lucien and Sophie now stayed in the penthouse. The man himself was overseas at his Barbados residence for the winter; he was a warm-blooded man who liked to follow the sun.
Lucien looked up from his laptop, distracted by Sophie as she padded through from the bedroom, fresh, fragrant and flushed from the bath.
"Dinner will be here soon," he said, inhaling the scent of her as she passed the antique desk. "I'm almost done here." He gestured towards the paperwork scattered around the computer.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Remembering her PA responsibilities almost guiltily, Sophie hovered at his shoulder.
"Yes." He plucked at the belt of her robe idly. "Get out of this, or get out of reach so I can finish up."
No guilt required, then. Not professionally, anyway. Sophie leaned down and kissed him, her open mouth warm and inviting over his for a few brief seconds before she straightened. "I guess I'll go and watch that movie then."
He smacked her bottom as she moved away, retribution for leaving him alone at the desk trying to think straight despite his now swelling cock.
He breathed deeply and centred his thoughts on work, but he heard Sophie laugh at some British comedy she'd found on the TV and found he wanted it to be him she was laughing with instead.
He could still smell her bubble bath, and he could see her reflection in the mirror over the desk. She was curled on the end of the sofa, drying her freshly washed hair with her fingers, the subdued light of the TV illuminating her in hues of pale blue and silver as she smiled.
It was no good. His concentration was shot. He threw his pen down, clicked the laptop shut and got to his feet.
"You're a distraction." He leaned against the doorway with his arms folded.
"Sorry." She patted the sofa. "Come and watch for a while until dinner arrives."
He paused for a second, about to refuse, but his legs had other ideas and carried him over to her. She swivelled around as he sat down, lying herself flat along the sofa with her head in his lap. Okay, so that was unexpected.
"Tell me it's not a slushy movie." He rubbed her hair dry, damp silk in his fingers.
She rolled her eyes. "Don't panic. Dinner will be here in a minute and save you from the romance."
"I can think of another way to pass the time," he said, but she stilled the hand he'd been about to slide into her robe and held it to her cheek instead. Her lips brushed warm on his palm, and he curved his fingers, cupping her face as she closed her eyes.
It soothed him to see her serene and untroubled, properly at ease for once. He'd known all along that bringing her to Paris would force a make-or-break situation between them, but had gambled that it would be worth it, because having her around him in the office day in day out without being able to touch her was definitely more hindrance than help. These last couple of days she'd finally allowed the other Sophie Black out to play again, and already she looked a more fulfilled woman for it. Was the bloom in her cheeks the lingering result of time spent in the warm bathroom, or something more? She opened her eyes and looked up at him, a sparkle where there had been only dullness of late.
Yes. He had wagered well. Paris was good for Sophie Black, there was his payout. But was Sophie Black good for him?
Chapter Nineteen
"I'd never tire of this view."
Sophie stood on the penthouse balcony with her hands on the cast iron railings and surveyed Paris by moonlight. Pale, blue-grey buildings scattered with pinprick diamond lights in the windows. The Eiffel Tower a glittering column of light presiding over them.
Lucien joined her on the balcony. Dinner had just arrived beneath polished silver cloches and now awaited them on the balcony dining table.
"You look very beautiful."
Sophie absorbed his quiet compliment, glad that he'd taken the time to notice her efforts. She couldn't put her finger on why it had mattered to dress for dinner. She could have easily and decadently stayed in her robe. It wasn't as if it was a date, yet still she'd lingered over her choice of clothing. In the end she'd opted again for her beloved new dress. It seemed a shame that she'd only worn it fleetingly to the club last night: it deserved more. Dinner overlooking the Paris skyline fitted the bill handsomely. Strictly, the dress was better without underwear, yet she hadn’t been able to resist the lure of the silken lingerie also delivered by the boutique last night.