Exposed: Laid Bare (Laid Bare #1)(9)

Was I ever! But I also had a concern, a concern for my heart. “I feel so strongly about him now, Veronica. Is this what love feels like?”

“Hardly,” she scoffed. “But I’d say you’re definitely in lust.”

“Yeah…” I trailed off. I couldn’t argue that one.

Veronica cleared her throat and whispered, “Did it hurt a lot? Are you feeling okay today? I hope he was gentle with you.”

Not exactly, I thought. To my cousin, though, I said, “It didn’t hurt at all last night. I felt great, but today”—I blew out a breath—“I’m feeling everything.”

I winced at the reminder of my many sore spots.

“What do you mean it didn’t hurt last night?” Veronica asked, confused. “My first time was agonizing.”

“Umm…”

This was my chance to come clean. Maybe Veronica could help me figure out what Lucien was. But it felt so silly now to think he was anything more than a man. He was probably just a very skilled man, right?

Still, how could just peering into his eyes have made me feel so giddy, so drunk on lust? And how was he able to lessen the pain of losing my virginity? He had taken me so many times, in so many ways, but nothing he’d done to me had hurt. Well, at least, not at the time. Last night, everything was pure pleasure.

“Dahlia, are you still there?” Veronica prompted when I grew silent.

“I’m here, I’m here,” I said, and after a pause, I asked, “Hey, can you do a favor for me?”

“Sure, honey,” she replied.

“Can you do a little research on Lucien? I couldn’t come up with much before the shoot, but you’re much more of a pro at digging and finding out the good stuff.”

“Of course,” Veronica said. Then, after a beat, she added softly, “You like him now, don’t you?”

It was true. I liked Lucien—a lot.

“Yeah, I kind of do like him,” I quietly admitted.

I felt a new pain with my admission, a pain in my heart. Was Lucien doing this to me, too? Making me yearn for him?

But Veronica had an alternative explanation: “He’s your first, Dahl. Those strong feelings are to be expected.”

“I suppose,” I murmured. Still, I knew what I was feeling was something more.

Before we disconnected, I reminded Veronica, “Call me if you come up with something on Lucien. Anything at all, okay?”

I wanted the dirt, and my cousin was good at uncovering exactly that.

“Sure,” she replied. “And don’t worry, Dahlia. If he has any skeletons, I’ll find them.”

On that note, we ended the call.



Ten minutes later, I was still at the desk. My eyes were glued to the computer screen and the image that was on it.

“No f*cking way,” I murmured as I stared and stared. Disbelief at what I was seeing was my primary feeling.

Twenty minutes later, I’d still not moved.

Thirty minutes—the same.

All due to what was on the screen before me.

So what was so compelling?

There was one picture filling the screen, a picture from the night before, a picture of Lucien. It was the final photo I had taken of him, when he had stood before me with his dark eyes betraying that he was something else.

I’d already scanned through the photos he’d taken of me afterward, the many sexual shots on the red leather sofa. Those images had not bothered me one bit. Peering at them had made me think of Lucien and the things he’d done to me. Smiling, I had moved those photos to a folder marked “Private.”

And then I’d come across this picture, the one I could not turn away from. All of the other photos of Lucien had turned out incredible. I had printed a bunch with the intention of choosing the best shots for the magazine spread. Then, at one point, I’d come across this single image of Lucien—a close-up of his face—and that is what now held me captive.

In the picture, Lucien appeared as perfect as always—dark and sultry eyes, great bone structure, full lips curved up in a knowing grin. But there was something different, something in his eyes. It was the same something I’d glimpsed briefly last night, that moment after I’d looked through the lens and asked him about the color of his eyes.

The moment I saw the real him.

And here it was, documented. What I’d seen was real. That glimpse of otherworldliness Lucien had allowed me to see hadn’t been my imagination, after all. And now, like last night, in the image on the screen, Lucien Chambers’ beautiful, deep brown eyes were again not quite human. There was something feral in his gaze, something inexplicable. There was no single word or way to accurately describe what the image portrayed, but you knew when you saw it that something was off. Off in a way that was beautiful and appealing, but off nonetheless.

“Did he want me to see this?” I asked out loud, my own voice causing me to jump.

Perhaps, I concluded. Last night, Lucien had had no qualms about letting me know he was “no ordinary man.”

But to have given me proof—this photo—I couldn’t wrap my head around his reasoning.

It led me to one question, a question that simultaneously thrilled and scared me—what the hell did Lucien Chambers want from me?





“Holy shit, Dahlia, wait until you hear what I found out about your friend Lucien.”