When I’m with You (Because You Are Mine #2)(63)
Author: Beth Kery

“I don’t really think you’d try to blackmail me,” he said, frustration in his tone.

“You said you did before.”

“What if I did?” he said abruptly. “You were thinking about how you could use something against me to get what you wanted. I could see it in your eyes, that day in my office. Do you deny it?”

She opened her mouth to do just that but bit her lip, halting her lie at the last second.

“I didn’t think so,” he said after a charged pause. “That doesn’t mean I truly believe you’d do something underhanded to intentionally hurt me.”

That admission let the pressure in her chest and throat remit enough to allow her to take a painful inhale, but she was still furious. And confused.

“I wasn’t worried that you would intentionally undermine me, Elise,” Lucien repeated, suddenly sounding weary. “I just thought it’d be easier all around if you could be quiet about our past. I realized that I wasn’t giving you enough guidance and information on that. That’s why I said I wanted to keep an eye on you. It wasn’t because I don’t trust you.”

The silence seemed to swell in her ears and in her throat.

“If you believe that, then why don’t you just tell me the truth? Tell me what’s haunting you, Lucien.”

Inexplicably, tears swelled in her eyes. She realized her reaction was because on some deep level, she recognized the truth of her words. He’d been behaving so inexplicably since he left Paris. Something was haunting Lucien, plaguing him. His secret was eating him alive from the inside out. Of course it was. Why hadn’t she understood that before?

“I can’t,” he replied quietly. “It’s not my secret to tell. Not entirely, anyway.”

“You don’t trust me,” she whispered, hurt strangling her voice . . . and panic, as well, that he wouldn’t let her in far enough to help him.

“That’s not it,” he said edgily. “Look, we’ll talk about it more when I get home.”

“When will that be?” she asked dully after a moment.

“I’m not sure. The day after tomorrow, most likely. Elise?” he prompted when she didn’t speak.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry for leading you to believe that it was my father’s crimes that I was trying to keep from Ian. It was just more . . .”

“Convenient to keep me quiet that way?” she asked when he faded off. It felt like there was a handful of marbles in her throat. “You knew how much I care about you. You knew that if I believed you were feeling vulnerable about Adrien’s incarceration for corporate espionage that I would keep quiet in order to protect you. You used my feelings for you against me to gain my compliance.”

“I never did that intentionally.”

“You don’t have to. It comes naturally, to maneuver to get what you want. You and I are alike. Haven’t you said that before?” she reminded him quietly. “You’ve accused me of learning manipulation at the cradle, but you’re no different. You did whatever was convenient to keep the fuse from being lit. You even suggested this relationship to keep me under control.”

“I suggested our relationship because I care about you,” he said in a hard voice. “I know how proud you are. If you didn’t believe that I truly care about you, you wouldn’t have agreed to any of this between us. You wouldn’t be in my bedroom this very moment.”

A silent spasm of emotion went through her. She thought of denying that she was, indeed, sitting on his bed as they spoke, just to spite him for his smugness. But what was the point? She did care about Lucien. She knew that he cared about her.

He didn’t trust her, though. And that was what burned like acid.

“I’ll be home soon,” Lucien said quietly. “We’ll talk more when I get there. Try to get some rest, ma chère.”

“Good night,” she said with as much calm dignity as she could muster.

* * *

The next morning she arose before dawn and drove out to the stables for a ride on Kesara. Lucien had been kind enough to purchase her a membership at the club, but she wasn’t in the mood to think generous thoughts about him at the moment.

It helped, the fresh, early-morning air and brisk gallop clearing some of the frustration and worry about her conversation with Lucien. Afterward, she returned to the city and showered. When Sharon came to open Fusion, Elise was waiting at the front doors. She poured all of her agitated energy into her work. By the time nine thirty p.m. came around, she was starting to drag.

“Why don’t you take off early and get some rest?” Denise suggested. “You look dead on your feet.”

“It’s Saturday night,” Elise reminded her as she arranged some greens on a plate.

“We’re completely prepped for the post-theatre crowd, and Evan and Javier are both here. Go on, Elise. You worked like a maniac today. I don’t want you to get sick. I need you too much.”

Elise gave the older woman a weary smile. “Maybe I will get some rest,” she conceded.

“Good. There’s no time like the present,” Denise said briskly, taking the knife Elise was holding in preparation to slice a juicy loin of pork. “Have a wonderful weekend.”

The penthouse was dim and silent when she unlocked the front door that evening, so she wasn’t sure what caused her to go still in the entryway. She listened intently, curious as to what had made her pause and go wary. All was quiet, but then she heard a scraping sound, as if a chair had been pulled a few inched across a wood floor. Her heart jumped into her throat. With her pitched hearing, she heard a man’s voice. It was too muffled to interpret what he’d said, but it sounded guttural and unfamiliar to Elise’s ears.

There was someone in the penthouse.

Chapter Twelve

She fumbled in her backpack for her cell phone, starting to back out the door. She’d call the police and wait with the doorman downstairs until the authorities went up to check things out and hopefully arrest the interloper. Her cell phone screen flickered on. She’d missed a text from Lucien, she observed distractedly as she started to close the door behind her.

She halted the door when it was an inch from closing. Lucien’s message said that he’d rushed to finish his work and would be on a plane by six p.m. Paris time. Given the time difference, he’d have been in Chicago now for hours.

She warily reentered the penthouse and moved down the hallway, her tread silenced by the thick carpeting. A flicker of relief went through her when she heard Lucien’s voice, although she couldn’t make out exactly what he said. A moment later, she stood outside Lucien’s closed office door.