When I'm with You (Because You Are Mine #2)(37)
His gaze ran over her face. She felt his body stir and triumph soared through her. “It is what I plan, Elise. But later. I should try and smooth things over with Ian and Francesca, and we need to say our good-byes.”
“Francesca and Ian are grown-ups. They know these things can happen. We’ll apologize tomorrow.”
“Just give it a few minutes. We’ll go soon.”
She arched her back and pressed her mons against his belly. “No, now.”
His nostrils flared as he stared down at her. She felt his body respond. Her heart dipped when he blinked and looked away. She sensed the spell was broken.
“My rules, Elise. Be patient,” he said gruffly, kissing her cheek with lingering lips and leaving her arms.
“Do not walk away from me again, Lucien,” she warned. God, she didn’t think she could stand making herself vulnerable to him yet again and having him turn his back on her. Didn’t he realize how much she desired him? Didn’t he know now that Elise Martin had finally found the man to whom she was willing to risk it all sexually, he was supposed to fall in line and behave precisely as she imagined he should? Yes, that sounded selfish, but damn it. Was it really that much of a stretch to think he would be as impetuous and bowled over by lust as she was? Why was Lucien always so contradictory?
“I’m not walking away from you for good. This isn’t easy for me, either. Don’t be so melodramatic, Elise.”
She stiffened. Is that what he thought? That her eagerness for him was silly? Hysterical? Childlike? Hurt gripped at her entire body.
“Elise—,” she heard him say.
But he was talking to a closed door.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Lucien stood next to Ian and Francesca at the terrace bar, careful to keep his gaze from wandering toward the entrance to the penthouse. No one had made a big deal about his and Elise’s earlier absence, either having not noticed or being too polite to comment about it. Ian likely had observed, but knowing his friend, he assumed it related to sexual games that were none of his business versus being something to remark upon.
No great obvious harm had occurred with his hosts, but why was Elise taking so long in returning? He was starting to get worried. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. If he’d been able to resist her in the seductive embrace of secretive darkness, this would never have happened.
Someone had altered the music selection to a more mellow pop mix. The dancing had ceased. Things felt flat with Elise missing. She’d always been the effervescence to a social gathering, the spice. The flickering flame. Perhaps her spoiled mother had noticed that from a young age, and started requesting her only daughter be excluded from dinner parties and other gatherings, Lucien mused. Madeline Martin did not enjoy competition.
He, Ian, and Francesca remained in comfortable silence, Francesca in the curve of Ian’s arm, Lucien leaning against the bar. When Ian glanced up and noticed Lucien studying his face for signs of how he was reacting to that phone call earlier, Lucien casually took a sip of his drink. As usual, Ian kept his emotions well hidden. He wanted to ask if everything was all right, but resisted. He couldn’t tip his hand.
He watched as both Caden and Justin again glanced toward the stairwell that led to the penthouse, their disappointed expressions informing him better than anything that Elise was nowhere to be seen.
“Elise is Louis Martin’s daughter, isn’t she?”
Lucien remained outwardly calm, even though his heart began thundering at Ian’s unexpected question. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Ian knew precisely who Elise was. Ian made it his business to know anything that concerned him, even remotely.
“Yes, Martin’s only child,” Lucien replied evenly.
“His heir,” Ian clarified, watching Lucien closely.
Lucien nodded.
Francesca shifted in Ian’s arms, perhaps noticing the sudden tension in the air.
“I think I’ll go down and check on Elise,” Francesca said, indicating she’d been thinking along the same lines as him. Lucien nodded, relieved. Elise would be more likely to allow another woman into that locked bathroom if she was upset than she would him. He knew that much about women.
In Francesca’s absence, Ian refrained from asking him more questions about Elise, seeming to guess that Lucien wasn’t inclined to gossip on the topic. Instead, they discussed the hotel Lucien was buying and his ideas for it. He straightened from his leaning position on the bar when Francesca returned five minutes later without Elise. He must not have been able to hide his worry, because Francesca spoke to him, not Ian.
“Elise wasn’t feeling very well. I just put her in a cab.”
“What was wrong with her?” Lucien demanded.
“She said she felt a little sick to her stomach, that’s all,” Francesca assured, her gaze on him.
“But you didn’t believe her?” Lucien asked.
“I didn’t disbelieve her, but . . . she did seem a bit upset,” Francesca said cautiously. Ian waited silently, watching him. Lucien set down his drink. Well, there was nothing for it now. Ian and Francesca, at least, both clearly knew he’d been dallying with Elise in the penthouse earlier. He was uncertain what else they understood or speculated about Elise and him, but that much they knew.
“I’d better go after her,” he said, buttoning his jacket. “Thank you for the evening, and again—congratulations. It gives me hope, seeing the two of you so happy,” he said, shaking Ian’s hand and giving Francesca a kiss. He left without bidding good-bye to the rest of the party. He didn’t want to put it in Justin’s or Caden’s head that Elise had left.