When I'm with You (Because You Are Mine #2)(6)

“I don’t let his crimes affect me. I’m very aware that I’m not him.”

His voice had gone quiet and husky as his gaze ran over her face. She stilled, the back of her neck prickled in anticipation. He reached up and touched her hair. She shivered at the sensation of his fingers sliding over it and gently tucking a lock behind her ear. Her entire body quickened, tingling with excitement. It felt strange, being so acutely aware of a man. She hadn’t let herself get close to many men romantically—let alone a man as attractive as Lucien—since she’d thrown herself into her cooking career and begun to support herself. She hadn’t ever let men get too close to her, truth be told. She’d had a major crush on Lucien as a girl, of course, even though he hadn’t known she’d existed in a romantic sense. But this was different. She was a grown woman now, one who was much clearer on what she wanted out of life.

“I would have thought I wouldn’t like your hair short,” he murmured distractedly, his warm breath striking her temple. “But it suits you perfectly. Elegant sass.”

“Lucien—,” she began breathlessly when she saw the heat in his eyes as he caressed her again. He interrupted her by stepping back.

“I’ll help you to arrange moving back to your parents’ home in Paris, if you like. Are you set for money? Do you need any?”

“No. I’m perfectly fine,” she muttered, jarred by his abrupt change of topic and the absence of his touch.

“You can’t stay in Chicago,” he said so resolutely that she blinked in surprise.

“Who are you to say I can’t live here? Did you buy the city or something?” she fired, forcing herself to ignore the flicker of delicious sensation between her thighs, a direct effect of his touch . . . his nearness. Her anxiety mounted at his droll, unmoved expression. “You need a chef! Let me fill in for you at least until you find someone else.”

“No. That’s out of the question. I’m sorry.”

Anger rose in her, stiffening her spine and making her stand tall. How could he sound so resolute? Was she that disgusting to him? “I won’t have you ruin everything I’ve planned,” she declared.

“I won’t have you doing the same to me.”

“What?” she asked, set off balance by his rapid-fire response. “How could I possibly ruin anything for you?”

He leaned against the bar, displaying lean, honed muscles to optimal effect. “That night at Renygat? In my office?” he prompted significantly.

She flushed with heat. After they were alone, she’d confronted him about what she’d overheard. He’d been furious about her eavesdropping, and their angry exchange had turned heated. The tension had segued to the sexual variety. She’d broken his rigid restraint that night . . . momentarily. He’d kissed her angrily and completely, fully acknowledging the fact that the girl he’d known was now a full-blooded woman. She knew she’d pushed him too hard with her flirtatious taunts. She just hadn’t realized how fearsome Lucien could be when his control broke. . . .

How thrilling.

She noticed Lucien’s narrowed gaze on her.

“Of course I remember,” she said. She suddenly found it difficult to meet his stare. “I don’t see how that relates to me ruining anything for you.”

“I have enough distractions in my life at the moment. I don’t need you adding to the mix.” Her heartbeat escalated. Was he suggesting he was attracted to her? Or was he referring to that overheard conversation she could make no sense of whatsoever? Elise couldn’t decide if she should be flattered or offended by his declaration.

“I’m not going to distract you. I came to Chicago for one reason and one reason alone—to get the training I need to be an excellent chef. I’m very good at what I do.”

“I have no doubt of it. But you’re forgetting one thing—there’s no longer a chef here to train you, ma fifille.”

“I don’t care. I’ll find another chef in this city. I came to this place to start a new life, a fresh start, and I won’t let anyone—not even you, Lucien—set me off track. And I’m not a little girl,” she added fiercely, referring to the French endearment he’d given her as a child.

His nostrils flared slightly as he shoved himself off the bar with a graceful, sinuous movement. Her heart started to throb in her ears as he reached for the silk wrap she’d draped over a stool earlier. He was going to send her away. Again. She remained frozen in place when he held up the garment, a challenge in his gray eyes.

“You are a child. A beautiful, stubborn one, but a child nonetheless,” he said. “It’s time for you to go, Elise.”

Fury ripped through her like lightening. “You bastard,” she hissed. She grabbed the wrap out of his hands. “I should have known you’d never help me. You’re as selfish and narcissistic as your father . . . as any of our darling, beloved parents.”

He caught her arm in an iron grip as she stormed past him toward the doors. “I’m not like my father,” he grated out. Elise balked at the evidence of his sudden, potent anger, but she rallied. She jerked at her arm, but her reaction was just for show. Lucien’s restraint triggered a completely different response than Mario’s had.

“Let go of me,” she said shakily, not sounding convinced it was what she wanted, even to her own ears.