“Elise, look at me.”
Her throat convulsed. She dragged her gaze off his reflection and met his stare.
“Did Michael give you those pearls?”
She nodded, tears burning in her eyes. “For my twenty-fourth birthday, just weeks before he died. He didn’t really have the money to buy me a gift like that.”
“You really loved him, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Not in the romantic way, but yes. He changed my life.”
“He brought you to me.”
One tear skittered down her cheek at his stark statement.
“Of course I’ll help you, Elise.”
“You will?” she asked slowly.
“It’s a very good idea. Why wouldn’t I help you?”
“I don’t need money or anything. By the time I can open the business, I’ll have control of my trust fund. I just need advice. Support.”
“You have both. You have whatever I can offer.”
The tightness in her chest and throat amplified. “It’s that simple?” Her gaze glued to his small smile.
“Yes. It’s that simple. All you have to do is ask. You don’t have to manipulate, or seduce, or do something crazy or dangerous . . . or forsake your pride. Those are the tools of our parents, of a past I’d rather leave behind. If it’s within my power, I’ll give you whatever you need. But you must ask.”
Whatever you need.
His nostrils flared slightly as he stared at her. Again, she experienced his patient anticipation. “Did you want something else?”
His quiet voice tickled her ear and caused her heart to throb.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Then tell me.”
Her lips felt numb when she opened them. His gaze was both blazing and somehow compassionate, like a steady, strong flame. It gave her courage.
“I want to give myself to you. I want to submit to you . . . please you. I want to trust you enough to give you control sexually.”
His nostrils flared slightly. His massaging hands stilled.
“You don’t want to trust, Elise. You either do or you don’t,” he said, his gaze narrowing on her. “You undoubtedly have had good reason for the majority of your life to keep a tight rein on other men. Do you trust me enough to let go, or don’t you?”
She searched his features, looking for any hint that she was making a mistake. She saw nothing but his rock-solid fortitude. Still, it was a frightening thing, to trust.
“I trust you,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear the tremor in her voice.
She was glad of her decision when she saw the flash of happiness and pride cross his features. She tucked that expression on Lucien’s face safely away with other treasured memories.
“Come here,” he said, putting out his arms. She swung her legs around to the floor, anxious, but also eager to go into his embrace, to begin to discover well and truly what he meant when he said he wanted to dominate her sexually, to find out what it meant to submit to desire.
His phone began to ring. Elise glanced at the screen as she moved into his arms.
“It’s the Hotel Louis,” she said, pausing next to the couch.
Annoyance flickered across his features. He hesitated.
“It’s okay, Lucien,” she assured. “It must be an emergency, for them to be calling at this hour.” Still, he didn’t reach to answer it, seeming undecided. Finally, he cursed under his breath and snatched up the phone.
Elise’s concern rose as she listened to him speak in terse French to whoever was on the other end of the line.
“It sounds bad,” she said when he eventually hung up.
“I had Monsieur Atale, the manager of the Hotel Louis—a man I trust implicitly—look into something for me. He’s been working on it and reporting back to me every few hours. It seems our main accountant was in on the embezzlement scheme. Monsieur Atale doesn’t have adequate funds to complete the payroll, and it’s payday tomorrow.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, hating the worry lines on his forehead.
He pinned her with his stare. “I can handle the technicalities of getting things back on track. I’m just furious at those sons of bitches for forcing the issue now. Just when you finally spoke your desire aloud to me.”
She gave him a shaky smile and sunk down next to him on the couch. She took his hand. “It’ll still be my desire when you get back.”
He squeezed her hand and lifted it to kiss her knuckles.
“You’re going to have to leave tonight, aren’t you?” she asked.
“As soon as my secretary in Paris can book me a charter flight. She’ll be calling back any minute. I’m sorry, Elise. It’s rotten timing.”
“I understand,” she assured, ignoring the ache expanding in her chest. “Of course you must go. The employees of all three hotels have dependents . . . families relying on them. They need their paychecks and jobs.”
“I’m glad you understand.” He stood and took her into his arms. When she looked up at him, he cradled her jaw, his fingers caressing her tenderly. He glanced at his cell phone and then back at her. She heard him curse under his breath. The next thing she knew, he’d swept her into his arms and was carrying her toward the hallway.
“Lucien?” she asked, amazed.
“A few minutes isn’t going to make that much of a difference,” he said grimly.
A moment later, he lowered her onto his bed and placed his hands on either side of her hips.
“Do you own a vibrator, ma chère?” he asked, his face just inches from her own, his voice striking her as decadent and rich, making her skin prickle with awareness.