“What happened to Laurie?” I look around almost as if expecting to see her standing behind me. Dear Lord, surely she isn’t still in his life; that would be more than I could bear.
“Things are finished with her and were before you and I met. She…wanted more and I didn’t.” A sudden chill runs up my spine that has nothing to do with the nighttime air. Lucian, feeling my shiver, tucks me back under his arm. “You’re cold. Let’s go home; we can talk there.”
I let him lead me to the apartment, an uncomfortable silence falling between us. My place in his life seems fragile and uncertain. I feel silly that I have even imagined for one moment that Lucian could feel for me the way I feel for him. I am an inexperienced, unsophisticated college student, and he is a rich, successful businessman. What could he possibly see in me? Am I just another way to keep women like Monique from throwing themselves at him? I walk to the kitchen for a bottle of water as he fixes himself a drink. “Can I get you anything?” I ask from the doorway.
“No, baby.” He settles on the couch and pats the place next to him. I really want to make an excuse to go lick my wounds in another room, but I know it’s childish. If I want Lucian to see me as a mature adult, then I need to act like one. Do I want him to regret opening up to me no matter how much I hated his answer? I sit next to him, playing nervously with the cap on the water bottle. “I can practically hear your mind spinning from here, you know.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it. I wish I could just shut my mind down for the evening and take everything he has said in stride, but the questions loom. “When you said Laurie wanted more, what did you mean? Like marriage?”
Lucian doesn’t seem surprised that I have returned to our original conversation; he almost seems to be expecting it. “Eventually, I’m sure that was her goal. She wanted access to more of my life, such as my homes.”
“She wanted to live with you? That would make sense.”
“No, baby, she wanted to see my homes, spend the night here. Laurie was never in this apartment or my house. She was in my apartment at the office a few times while I was changing for an event, but that’s it.”
I am completely blown away by his statement. How could he have dated someone for months and never had her here? Of course, would I be here now if not for the fact that I had first walked through the door as his cleaning lady? I am certain the confusion I’m feeling must be apparent in my voice as I say, “That seems strange to me. Didn’t you spend the night together…at least some of the time?” I can tell Lucian is getting tired of my twenty questions, but he continues to answer patiently.
“We dated…we had sex at her place, but I didn’t spend the night, nor did she spend the night with me…at any time. Lia, you know what happens sometimes when I sleep. I never wanted anyone to witness my…nightmares, so I avoided that risk.”
Swallowing around the lump that seems to be wedged in my throat, I ask the one question I need to know, regardless of how badly his answer could hurt me. “What about me? Would I be here if I hadn’t forced the cleaning issue?”
He takes his time, not jumping to put my jumble of insecurities to rest. Finally, as my nerves are screaming, he says, “Maybe not as quickly as your first trip, but yes, I feel certain we would have ended up exactly where we are now.” He stares at the strand of my hair he’s twirling around his finger as if captivated. “From the moment we met, I have been helpless to stay away, even though I should. There is just something about you that draws me in, makes me want to believe in things that scare the hell out of me.”
I reach up, cupping his face in my hands and looking into his tormented eyes. “What’s wrong with believing in something, Luc?”
He is looking at me but appears to be a million miles away. I rub my finger soothingly on his cheek, bringing his focus back to me. Clearing his throat, he finally answers. “I’ve done it before. There was a time when I thought all I had to do was believe and things would work out. In the end, that belief forever damaged everyone involved. I just…don’t know if I can risk that again. I barely survived it the first time.”
I am unable to stop the tear that breaks free and slides down my cheek. I should end the questions now, but I don’t…I need one more answer. “Where does that leave us then?”
He kisses me gently, tracing my quivering lips with the tip of his tongue. “I don’t know,” he groans against my mouth. “I’m trying, baby; don’t give up on me yet.”
Wrapping myself around him, I give in to all the feelings he invokes in me. “I’m here,” I assure him, knowing that no matter how terrified I am of losing him in the end, I can’t walk away. He is right; we have been helpless to stay away from each other from the beginning.
Lucian is the type of man any woman would want, but he is so much more than what most see on the outside. The thing that draws me in the most is the troubled man I see glimpses of behind the polished exterior. His words tonight hint at the past tragedy that continues to haunt him even now. I want to push him to tell me everything, but I don’t; we both need the peace of communicating without words for a while. I stand, holding my hand out to him. He looks heartbreakingly grateful that I’m still here with him in the moment.
He takes my hand, and we walk to the bedroom. That night, for the first time, we make love. We have had sex many times, but tonight is vastly different from the other times. I feel cherished as he worships every inch of my body with his hands and mouth. No words of love are spoken, but the room is electric with emotion as we come together time and again. Dawn is chasing away the night when we finally collapse into each other’s arms, exhausted and content.
Chapter Sixteen
Lucian
I jerk awake, grabbing my throat as I choke. Next to me, Lia stirs but doesn’t wake. My heart is hammering and fear still clutches my insides. Fuck, one night of not self-medicating and I’m right back in Hell. I ease from the bed, careful to make as little noise as possible. Safely inside the bathroom, I go straight to the shaving kit tucked against the back of the cabinet, under the sink, and pull it out. My hands automatically lay out the small mirror and white vial. In less time than it would have taken to find a bottle of Tylenol, I’ve made two perfectly straight lines of white powder and rolled up a dollar bill into a tight, straw-like shape. A couple of snorts later, I repack the bag, tucking it once again securely out of sight.