I…she moaned
N…she gasped his name
C… “Lucien...”
E… she came
S… and came
S… and she came.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
According to the luminous clock on Lucien's bedside table, it was a little after four a.m. Sophie blinked as her eyes adjusted to the shadowed room, half awake and very aware of the weight of Lucien's arm across her body.
She turned her head on the pillow to look at him, and her fingers ached to reach out and stroke the proud slant of his cheekbone.
Sleep had robbed him of his trademark cocky smile and easy confidence, leaving him stripped bare and vulnerable as a child. There was a sweetness to the sweep of his lashes on his cheek, and an innocence to the cupid bow of his top lip. Studying him, Sophie could almost see the carefree, tearaway child he must have been. Who was he? How had he gone from child to man, from innocent boy to self-styled leader of a movement for sexual liberation?
His home offered no clues to his past, and the internet had proved equally unforthcoming when it came to revealing the boy behind the man.
He sighed in his sleep, and Sophie turned her body fully into the circle of his arms. He gathered her closer, and she breathed him in. Whoever he was, right now she was just glad to have him in her life.
She slept.
Lucien clicked off his mobile. All of the arrangements were in place, the work of minutes. It was one of the things he appreciated most about his wealth - it waved a magic wand and made anything possible.
He needed his private jet readied for take-off with three hours’ notice? No problem.
He wanted the lodge prepared by lunchtime? Consider it done.
Money talked, for sure. But right now the only conversation he was interested in using it to facilitate was the one where Sophie realised that she held all of the aces, not her husband.
As far as he could see, marriage was all about power. His own father had held all of the cards in his parents’ marriage, his mother perpetually playing a losing hand.
When Sophie had walked into his office last Monday evening, the defensive look in her eyes at the mention of her marriage had stirred deep-seated memories, decades-old echoes of a similarly haunted look in his mother’s eyes.
But then, last night, that look had been nowhere to be seen on Sophie's face, especially not in the seconds before she'd come. By the end of the weekend the look would be banished forever.
A grim smile touched the corners of his mouth at the thought of Daniel Black returning home on Sunday. The man was in for one hell of a shock.
Sophie dashed around her suburban semi, throwing clothes and her passport into the overnight bag that lay flung open on the bed. Her home felt like a doll’s house after Lucien's mansion, and just a couple of days of standing empty had lent it a forlorn air that she was anxious to escape from. Lucien had given her exactly ten minutes, and then he was turning off the engine and coming in to get her. This she did not want. He had no place here, in her home.
She had no idea where they were headed or what to pack, but instinct had her throwing in her prettiest underwear and her favourite dress and heels. Lucien had suggested she also bring a coat, so she zipped her bag and laid her cherry red wool coat on top of it. She was ready.
In her haste to get into the car before Lucien got out of it, she never noticed the flashing light on the answering machine in the hallway.
Sophie had only ever flown in economy class, so climbing aboard a private jet an hour or so later was something of a culture shock. There had been no duty free shopping or check-in queues, just a uniformed driver to take Lucien's Aston away for him as they moved straight from the car to the steps of the pristine black aircraft emblazoned with the Knight Inc. logo. The captain greeted Lucien warmly; wherever the destination was, it seemed to be a journey Lucien made regularly.
Inside the cabin, the aircraft was the last word in aviation luxury.
And what else would she have expected? Deep leather recliners, gleaming wooden panels and expensive fittings surrounded her, and it came as no surprise that they were the only passengers.
Lucien dispensed with his black leather jacket as soon as the doors were closed.
"Is this your jet?" Sophie asked.
Lucien shrugged. "I fly a lot."
She glanced behind her.
"Are there any cabin crew?"
"Do you want there to be?"
Sophie's brows knitted together. Did she? Was she content to be alone in the skies with Lucien?
"I don't think I do," she said eventually.
Lucien nodded, and waved an arm towards the seating area.
"We're going to be in the air for around five hours. Make yourself comfortable."
Five hours? That was far more than Sophie had anticipated, and worry prickled over her skin. She was flying God knows where with a man she'd only known for a few days. What if she didn't make it home on time?
Guilt swooped in and landed heavily on her chest. She was thinking like a deceitful lover. Did Dan feel this way every time he met with the woman he'd decided was more worthy of his attention that she was? Did he worry about covering his tracks? She thought about it, and much as she tried to retrospectively apply guilt and remorse to Dan's behaviour, she drew a blank. What did that tell her? Either her husband wasn't bothered if she uncovered his infidelity, or else he genuinely believed that she was too stupid to join the dots. Neither option gave her much comfort.
"Don't worry, Cinders. You'll be home by sun-up on Sunday."
Sophie nodded and sank down into the nearest recliner, grateful once again for Lucien's perceptiveness.
She needed to think like a man, to compartmentalise her life. She could do that. She could lock her marital problems away in a sealed file marked with Sunday's date. She visualised herself closing the file and setting the seal, and then storing it away in the recesses of her head. Dan no doubt had none of these problems, but then wasn't he so much more practised in the art of deceit?
"Where are we going?" she asked, as much to fill her head with something new as from genuine curiosity.
"We're flying north." Lucien settled into the seat next to hers.
That really wasn't much help. Geography wasn't Sophie's strongest point.
"North?"
"Stop asking questions and trust me."
Sophie leaned back and closed her eyes. Being with this man was so easy, he was a born leader and she found herself more than content to follow. It was a thrill to be around someone who always knew exactly what to do.
Someone who right now had just tipped her chair back to full recline and was undoing the buttons of her filmy black chiffon blouse.