RUSH (City Lights, #3)(19)

But mostly I wondered if he was going to agree to everything Lucien and I were going to propose, because although I’d only had the barest glimpse of that living space on the first floor, I was already making it mine.

“The house belongs to Noah’s parents, who reside permanently in Connecticut,” Lucien was telling me as he smoked a Dunhill cigarette. “When I told them last night that you wished to live there, they were thrilled. Aside from worrying constantly about their son, they’ve had valid concerns about the upkeep of the property.”

“Do they not see Noah very much?”

Lucien’s lips made a thin line before he answered. “I’m afraid not. They did at first, to be sure. They visited him regularly at the various hospitals and the rehabilitation facility in White Plains. But after they gave him the townhome—ostensibly to recuperate in—he has made it very clear he wants no visitors of any kind.”

“Not even his family?”

“Not his parents, not his sister, and not the scores of friends he made during what he calls his ‘other life.’”

The bounce in my step vanished. “If he won’t even see family, why would he agree to let me live there?”

“It will not be up to him, not entirely, though let us keep mum on the living arrangements for now. I told him that you were coming today to interview for the position. I said nothing about you being a live-in assistant.”

I bit my lip. “That sounds bit dishonest, doesn’t it? I thought you would have at least broached it with him.”

“I could have,” Lucien replied. “And Noah would have denied me outright and refused to interview you at all.”

“Oh.”

Lucien stopped and patted my hand. “There are times in this life in which we must do what is best, and so often what is best is not what is easy.”

We arrived at the townhouse and I stared up at the three-story residence, trying not to think too hard about all that was at stake. Lucien patted my hand.

“Interview as you would a normal position. Be honest. Be yourself. Let him warm up to you—such as he is capable—and leave the rest to me.”

He unlocked the front door and stepped aside to let me in. “Noah? Nous sommes arrivés.”

No answer.

Lucien motioned for me to walk ahead of him up the stairs. I know he was doing it out of etiquette, but I felt like a human shield until I remembered Noah couldn’t see me. I could’ve been wearing a sombrero and a pink tutu, and it wouldn’t have mattered. No, his first impression would form when I opened my mouth to talk.

That wasn’t a comforting thought.

On the second floor, the kitchen to my right was cleaned up a bit; I guessed Lucien had been here over the weekend. The square glass coffee table was free of clutter, and sat between a beige leather couch on one side and a matching chair on the other.

Noah Lake was in the chair.

For a second, all normal, rational thought flew out of my head. The only one that made any sense was that the Planet X promo shot didn’t do him justice. At. All.

He wore a black v-neck t-shirt, gray athletic pants, and running shoes that looked brand new. His legs were literally spilling over the edge of the deep chair, confirming my suspicion that he was tall. Well over six feet, easy.

The accident hadn’t robbed him of his beauty as I had wondered, though his skin was a bit paler, his hair a bit longer in the back. He wore the same growth of stubble on his angular chin and cheeks. If anything, he was even more handsome in person than in the pic—a stunning example of masculine beauty if I ever saw one. But something was missing.

His smile, I thought. The accident stole his smile. The guy in the promo headshot was a beaming young man full of life and joie de vivre, as Lucien might say. The Noah who sat before me now looked as if a scowl were permanently etched into his striking features. As if it had been months since he’d even thought about smiling.

I was dimly aware of Lucien’s hand on my back, gently pushing me forward so that he could step into the room. He guided me to the couch facing Noah, and I wordlessly sank into it. I set my violin case on the floor next to my feet.

“Noah, comment ?a va? Bien?”

Noah made a noncommittal noise. Those astonishing hazel eyes were fixed on the glass coffee table in front of him.

“Noah, this is Charlotte Conroy,” Lucien said. I noticed he wasn’t sitting down to join us.

“Pleased to meet you,” I said, thankful I had enough wits about me not to offer my hand.

Noah’s head came up and he swiveled in my direction, trying to zero in on me by sound. His beautiful eyes swept over me and his gaze landed just below my chin.

“Prick,” he said, his voice deep and smooth, but cold too.

I flinched. “I’m…I’m sorry…?”

“Noah! Tiens-toi bien!” Lucien scolded, but Noah ignored him.

“You’re the girl who delivered food last week. I recognize your voice.” His lip curled. “One of the parting gifts from being whacked blind is a keen sense of everything else.” He cocked his head toward Lucien. “This is who you think would make a good assistant?”

Above me, Lucien rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Mon Dieu, Noah…”

“Still surprised?” Noah scoffed. “I’m nothing if not consistent. You can go, Lucien. Let’s get this over with.”