When I'm with You (Because You Are Mine 2)
Page 51He gave her a bland look. “As long as we understand each other.” He casually strolled around his desk as he opened a piece of mail.
“I’m not sure I do understand,” she said slowly.
He froze and glanced back at her, his gaze hooded.
“What do you mean?”
“Why do you care so much what Ian Noble thinks? Why are you so . . . interested in Ian Noble, period? Does he have something you want? Are you maneuvering for something? Business-wise?”
“Of course not.”
“Why can’t you just tell me what you’re doing? Maybe I could help you.”
“Drop it, Elise.”
She blinked at his sharp, quiet command. She didn’t want to ruin this moment after he’d told her about the horse, but something uncomfortable fluttered in her chest and settled like lead in her belly. She’d grown up in an atmosphere of deceit and cunning. Every move her mother or father ever made was premeditated, designed for a specific result. She knew Lucien had grown up under similar circumstances. Worse ones. Lucien’s father could have taught Machiavelli a few things.
“Ian Noble has got nothing to do with you—with us,” he said.
“I refuse to be blackmailed,” he said. “If you feel that it’s so imperative, go to Noble and tell him what you think you know.”
“Oh, right. And then you’d toss me out on my butt,” she said hotly. Had he just asked her to stay with him at his penthouse because he wanted to have something over her head to keep her quiet? Was it just more convenient for him to keep her under control if she was nearer to him?
“There’s no question of me tossing you out. Don’t get worked up over things that don’t concern you. Not everything is about you, Elise.”
“I know that!” she said, stung. “I just don’t understand why you’re being so secretive.”
“It’s not up for discussion. You either trust that I’m not up to something harmful, or you don’t. I’ll leave that up to you,” he said, sitting down at his desk. He opened a leather-bound journal and a pen and began to enter some numbers.
She’d been dismissed.
She turned and stalked out of the office, feeling bewildered and irritated over the combination of his thoughtful gift and subsequent maneuvering for her silence. Her desperation mounted.
Lucien wasn’t anything like his father.
Of course he wasn’t.
* * *
Lucien was glad to see that she stayed late that night. He thought she might leave Fusion in a temper when her duties were done, refusing to accompany him to the stables after their earlier disagreement. He’d observed her interaction with Francesca and Ian earlier and she’d done well with the possible exception that she’d pointedly omitted him from her warmth and charm. He could tolerate that himself, but Ian, at least, definitely noticed her giving him the cold shoulder.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked evenly as he entered the kitchen. Most of the lights had been turned down. She stood behind a wooden chopping table, stacking some plates. He saw that she’d changed out of her chef’s smock and wore a pair of white Martin jeans, the flagship product of her father, Louis Martin’s, famous fashion house. With the jeans, she wore a dark blue fitted T-shirt that emphasized her small waist and full breasts.
She merely nodded. He couldn’t tell from her pale face if she was still angry or not. In fact, he couldn’t read her mood accurately for the entire ride to his club. She was polite, but quiet for most of the forty-minute ride.
The club was located in a forested area in a western suburb. The guard at the front entrance had been told Lucien planned a late-night visit to the stables. He opened the gate with a friendly wave. Once they cleared the lit clubhouse, the road that led through dense trees was shrouded in thick darkness. The grounds were desolate at this time of night.
“I can’t wait to meet her,” Elise broke the silence finally when they alighted in the parking lot. In the distance, the polo field was lit with a few floodlights, the forest surrounding it looking like a looming shadow. He heard excitement vibrating in her voice. He smiled into the darkness. The girl he remembered who had loved horses still existed inside her. “What’s her name?” she asked.
“Kesara. She’s still a filly. She’ll be three in a few months.”
“She’s not a polo pony, is she?” Elise asked as they approached the dim stables. Stan, who lived on the grounds a half mile or so down the road and who looked out for the thirty or so horses that were stabled there, was clearly not around.
“No. She’s for riding. There are some nice paths and fields on the grounds.”
“No, but it’s popular among a few people in the area and becoming more so.”
“You’re the former member of the French national team. You must be a bit under-challenged by the quality of the competition.”
“It’s fine. We just do it for fun, and besides, I’m not a young man anymore,” Lucien said, opening the door.
Elise snorted.
“It’s true. My mount gives me enough challenge as it is. He’s a firebrand.”
“What’s his name?” Elise asked in a hushed tone as they entered and heard soft whickers in the distance. The familiar rich, fecund scent of the stables entered his nose. They passed the tack room. A few of the horses’ heads flicked up when Lucien turned on a light.