When I’m with You (Because You Are Mine #2)(4)
Author: Beth Kery

“You’re mad,” he said dismissively, picking up the brandy snifters on the counter and starting to walk away. The panic amplified in her chest. She despised the sight of Lucien’s back.

“I’ve completed my training at La Cuisine in Paris. The only thing remaining is for me to stage with a master chef—the master chef you just fired!”

He turned around and she saw he was smiling. Her heart swelled and seemed to press against her breastbone. Merde. Lucien’s smiles—the white teeth, the twin dimples, the firm, shapely lips. If the devil did exist, he’d definitely take on Lucien’s form in order to sow as much sin in the world as possible. She’d never seen a more handsome man in her life, and unfortunately, she’d seen more than her fair share of men.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, her spine stiffening. She took offense at his condescending tone.

He chuckled. Her stomach felt hollow, seeing him laugh at her aspirations. She felt hollow.

“So you’re going to be a chef this week.”

“I’m going to be a chef for the rest of my life.”

He shook his head, his smile fading. “This is the latest item on your crazy to-do stunt list. You’ve already tried race-car driver, sommelier, and photographer.”

“I’ve grown up. I’ve turned my life around. I want my life to have . . . substance. I’m trying to create a career for myself.”

“Why does an heiress need a career?” he asked. He had a decadently sexy voice. Rumor had it that women were regularly seduced by it alone, forget the rest of the package. Not that anyone would ever forget the smallest detail of Lucien. Elise knew she never had. She watched him as he moved behind the bar.

“Why does an heir?” she countered. “You’ve always worked, first at your father’s hotels and then in your own hotels and restaurants. You of all people shouldn’t be questioning me.”

He glanced up, all traces of amusement gone. Her lungs couldn’t expand as he held her stare. Pain welled up in her—shame about her past wild behavior and cynical attitude toward life, lancing fear that her plans for a future were hollow, that she truly didn’t have what it took to be a functional adult who could give and take and make the world a bit of a better place. She hadn’t possessed any role models for such a thing. She was afraid that greatly diminished her chances of success.

It was Lucien’s stare that made her feel her shortcomings so completely. He saw a lot with those X-ray eyes. He always had.

He’d immediately seen her foolishness when they’d first met at his parents’ estate in Nice. Elise had been a headstrong, wild thing, desperate for her preoccupied parents’ attention, for the staff’s, other houseguests’ . . . anyone’s. Lucien had been a coolly elusive twenty-one to her fourteen years that summer. From the beginning, he’d seen her ragged neediness, although she hadn’t realized it at the time. He’d befriended her, much to her delight. She’d been like a pitiful, neglected puppy, in awe of every scrap of attention he threw her way. It had been the best summer of her youth, those golden months on the shore of the Mediterranean.

Of her life.

She hadn’t realized until years later that their fathers had implored Lucien to take her under his wing. More than likely he’d been paid well for spending time with her, riding, swimming, and boating during that unforgettable summer. The knowledge shamed and infuriated her to this day.

“You must realize this is an unexpected—not to mention ridiculous—situation, Elise,” he said, his tone softer than it’d been before. She tensed when she suspected it was from pity. “You can’t work at Fusion.”

“I told you. I have a contract.”

“You have a contract with Mario, not with Fusion or me. I understand that master chefs take on stages. I allow them to arrange that on their own, respecting a talent I don’t possess. You aren’t one of Fusion’s paid employees, however, and as you just witnessed,” he said, wiping off the snifter he’d just washed, “Mario no longer works here.”

She stood there, panic gripping her, her thoughts coming a mile a minute. Had she failed so quickly in her plans? Were they so brittle? Was she? Would she be forced to return to the sterile emptiness of her existence in Paris, once again the vanquished fool?

No. It would not happen.

“Why did you change your name?” The random question just popped out of her throat she was so frantic.

For a moment, he didn’t speak, just finished wiping off the snifter and hanging it with the other glassware, leaving her with her thoughts. Taking his time, he strolled around the bar. He approached her and stood close. Closer than she’d expected. The spice scent of his cologne filtered into her nose.

“I’d actually already changed my name during our last meeting in Paris. Apparently, you’d been partying too much. You likely are a bit cloudy about a few things that occurred that night.”

She stilled, suddenly growing wary. Something about his reference to their encounter at Renygat and the subtle suggestion that she might be mistaken in her memories of it triggered a warning signal in her brain.

She’d left her companions and sought out a private meeting with Lucien that Saturday night two years ago, nervous, but eager to reconnect with her childhood infatuation now that she was a woman. True, she’d known he was in Paris for a while, but her parents’ pushy desires about Lucien had made her standoffish about approaching him. She’d been embarrassed, lest he think she was just enacting her parents’ wishes like some kind of robot socialite, bent on marriage to one of the most eligible males in the country.

She’d tapped lightly on the only door in the hallway, taking a moment to realize when she got no response that the door only led to a shorter hallway—an entryway of sorts. It led to the true door to Lucien’s office. The outer door had been shut, but as she went through it, she’d seen that the inner one was cracked open an inch. Standing in the entryway, she’d accidentally overheard that puzzling conversation between Lucien and a German-accented stranger.

“I’ll need top-notch insider information on Noble—his background, his family, his financials.”

“That won’t be easy. Ian Noble is known for being a control freak about security.”

“That’s why I hired you,” Lucien had replied, sounding preoccupied. “You’re supposed to be the best.”