Breaking Out (10 page)

Chapter 8

Chastised and then some . . .

Unlike normal kids, Evelyn never had a room to be sent to. There was never a specific age at which point she could cross the street, because that would be like marking a time for a toddler to cross the kitchen in a typical home. She never went to school, so she never really could get into trouble there either. Her life followed the simplistic cause-and-effect patterns of nomads, and every consequence she ever faced had been a natural one.

Her knee bounced anxiously. Dugan stood across the common area of the condo, arms braced over his broad chest, scowling at her. She'd given up trying to reason with him. The uncomfortable nausea that swirled in her belly, a mix of panic and uncertainty, battled with the indignity of being treated like a child.

“I wouldn't have let him rob me,” she snidely said to her chaperone. His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Unable to match his stare, she lowered her gaze to her lap and waited. They had been sitting there for over thirty minutes. She knew they were waiting for Lucian, but she didn't know for how long. He had meetings all day and didn't plan to be back until seven. It wasn't even lunchtime yet.

Long ago she'd given him her word that she wouldn't venture into that section of the city alone. Today she broke her word. That bordered on lying, something Lucian had zero tolerance for.

The private elevator to the master suite pinged softly in the hall. The mechanical buzz following the swipe of a keycard sounded. Evelyn's breathing accelerated. Maybe it was just housekeeping. The sound of Lucian's briefcase hitting the hall table told her it wasn't. She sat up straight and waited.

Lucian walked around the corner, jaw set as though it were made of granite, eyes a stormy shade of the darkest onyx, and his movements stiff as stone. He didn't look at her.

Dugan moved from his post at the wall and nodded to Lucian. Lucian walked right past her, somehow avoiding making any eye contact, and moved to stand in front of the glass window. She didn't turn or say a word. The air seemed to be escaping the condo by the second, making it harder and harder to breathe.

Facing forward, she could only make out his shadow in her left peripheral from where she sat on the sofa. The door to the condo clicked shut. The elevator gave a muffled ping, and then took Dugan off to wherever he was going. Evelyn had no idea what having a father felt like, but seeing Dugan go sort of felt like her last hope of any champion was abandoning her.

Silence.

As the quiet consumed her and everything else around her, she began to notice sounds she usually overlooked. Traffic, thirty-two stories below, whisked by in a shushed hum. The clock on the accent table actually clicked with each second. Lucian's breathing was measured and heavy, but slow as well.

“Do you mind telling me what
the fuck
you were doing there?”

She jerked in her seat as his initially quiet question ended in a shout. He turned and faced her from behind his desk.

“I—”

“You could have been killed!”
he bellowed, his hand sweeping across the messy surface, taking everything, including the antique lamp perched at the corner, with it.

She instinctively flinched, her back pressing further into the cushions of the couch.

“I share everything with you! My homes, my possessions, my staff, my money, I even give you my goddamn heart, but you can't even offer me the truth!”

He was shouting in a way she had never heard him speak before. Lucian didn't raise his voice. When he spoke softly he was menacing enough to demand the attention of an entire auditorium. Her throat constricted and even if she had something to say she wouldn't have been able to get words past the lump choking her.

The hot burn of an unexpected tear flipped over the edge of her lashes and skittered down her cheek.

“Say something!”

“I don't know what to say . . .” she whispered in a voice so constricted she could barely hear it herself.

“How about telling me
what
you were looking for?” Then his face contorted and he sneered, “Or should I say
who?
”

Be honest.
“I wanted to find Parker, to see if he was okay.”

“And you felt the need for secrecy
why
?”

She shrugged stupidly. “I knew it would make you angry. I didn't want you to worry about anything.”

“If there was nothing to worry about, then why not tell me what you were really doing? Why be deceptive?”

“I wasn't trying to be—”

“Bullshit.” He was suddenly in front of her, leaning over her, boxing her in. “You purposely tried to keep this from me. Why, Evelyn?”

“I don't know!” she sobbed.

“You know.”

“I don't. I didn't want you to be angry—”

“Tell me the truth!” he snapped. “Say it.”

“I don't know what you want me to say!” She pleadingly reached for his face, but he ripped his body away before she could touch him. “Lucian, please—”

“Just admit it.”

She didn't understand what he was trying to get her to admit. “Admit what?”

“You fucking love him!”

Her breathing stilled and her mouth opened. She stared unblinking at Lucian's back as her mind tried to wrap around his words. Finally, she croaked, “What?”

In a voice sounding defeated and all too quiet, he whispered. “You love him.”

“Lucian . . .
no.
” How could he think such a thing?

“Then why?”

“I don't know why. I was worried about him. That's all. I swear it. I don't see him that way.
Please,
believe me. I haven't seen or talked to him since we had that fight last fall. It's been months. The man at the shelter said he's been gone for a while.” Her voice broke as she cried. “I'm worried he's . . . what if something bad happened?”

Lucian turned on her, his face haggard, but his eyes again narrowed on her. “And what if something did happen? What if you found him and he said he needed you? What would you do then, Evelyn? Would you go to him?”

“That's not a fair question.”

“Would you?”

“I'd want to help him if I could, but only because he's my friend.”

“And what if he was just fine? What if he somehow made it off the street just like you did? Would that change your feelings?”

She shook her head. “Parker has no one. I don't think that's what happened. Lucian, I swear, I only went because I can't shake this feeling that he's in trouble, like something bad happened to him.”

“Do you intend to continue to look for him?”

He seemed to hold his breath, as did she. There was no right answer to that question. She couldn't look at him. Lowering her gaze to her hands fisted in her lap, she whispered, “I need to know he's okay.”

There was no sound. No reaction to her words. Minutes passed. They seemed to reach a stalemate. Finally, Lucian sunk into the chair across from her.

She peeked at him from under her lashes. She was completely unprepared for the desolate look in his eyes. Instinctively, she went to him, but as she reached for his hands, he flinched away from her touch. “I need you to not touch me right now, Evelyn. Please go away.”

Pain crushed down on her chest. Air choked off as an agonized whimper left her throat. Her hands began to shake so violently even her shoulders trembled. Tears fell unchecked from her eyes, skittering down her cheeks and dropping onto her knee to mark and soak the fabric there. She wiped at her suddenly runny nose with her cold fingers and sat back, nodding.

When she found the strength, she stood and awkwardly walked to their bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do.

Should she pack her things? Move her belongings to the guest room? She'd never known such an ugly, unwanted worthlessness. Her voice spilled past her lips in a sharp, gasping sob. She didn't know what to do.

Thinking things couldn't get any worse, she realized just how stupid she was. The sound of the front door opening and slamming closed echoed through the empty condo. She had finally pushed too hard. He hated her. And he'd left.

Chapter 9

Uncertainty

It was after two in the morning when Lucian finally came home. Evelyn's eyes opened, the only light a green glow coming from the digital clock on the nightstand. Her lashes felt glued together with dried tears, and her nose had run so much she could barely breathe through it. As she heard him moving around in the common area, there was a thud and he cursed.

She peeled her tear-dampened cheek off the pillow, forced herself out of bed and quietly walked to the hall. Standing at the edge of the hall in the dark, she saw Lucian examining his sock-covered foot. She squinted into the shadows and saw that the antique lamp he had knocked off the desk lay shattered. He must have stepped on it. Wanting to help, she stepped forward.

“Go back to bed, Evelyn.”

Her steps faltered and her jaw trembled. “Are you hurt?”

He placed his foot on the ground and grimaced. “I'm fine. Go back to sleep.”

“I was awake.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. She waited for him to look at her. When he said nothing she asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

In an exasperated tone, he said, “The last thing I want you to do is leave. Now, please, go back to bed. I'm tired and I can't do this right now.”

This? As in her? “I'm sorry,” she whispered.

He started cleaning up the papers around his desk and tossing the shattered pieces of the lamp into the canister on the floor. She was clearly dismissed.

Evelyn returned to bed and waited. Her ears clung to every sound, trying to imagine where he was and exactly what he was doing out there. The condo grew quiet for several minutes and she assumed he was finished cleaning up the mess. Then she heard the guest room door click shut and something inside of her broke. Turning her face into the pillow, she wailed silently. Her fists balled in the covers. She couldn't take any more.

***

Evelyn awoke in a daze. Her throat was sore and her lips were dry. As memories of the previous day came crashing back, a heavy ache settled over her chest. Moving quickly, she climbed out of bed and used the bathroom. She was still in her clothes from the night before.

Uncaring of her appearance, she went to find Lucian. As she left the bedroom she heard his voice speaking quietly.

“No, not an efficiency. I want a fully furnished studio or condo. There has to be a doorman. I want her to feel safe there . . .”

Evelyn's heart plummeted to her feet. Was he kicking her out?

“I also want to make sure there is an account set up in her name for emergencies and any incidentals. I won't be able to keep in contact with her and I need to know I haven't forgotten anything.”

She was going to be sick. Unable to listen to anymore, she turned back to the bedroom and quietly shut the door. Heading straight to the shower, she turned on all four showerheads. She didn't want him to hear her crying. This was her fault and she always knew what they had couldn't last forever. He had been quite specific when they first agreed to their arrangement. No lying. No going back to that section of the city.

After a long shower, her nose was clear, but her head seemed stuffed with cotton. She took her time brushing out her hair. Unsure of what the day would bring, she dressed in sneakers, jeans, a light shirt, and her warmest sweater. The sweater was a heavy black cable-knit Lucian had given her last Christmas when they went to a tree farm. That would keep her warm if she ended up back on the streets.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and went to face the music.

Lucian was off the phone and reading over papers at his desk. He was fully dressed in a suit and his hair was dry. He must have woken up very early.

“There's breakfast for you there.”

Silently, Evelyn turned and saw a covered dish awaiting her at the small bistro table. She had never been so frightened to speak. Terrified if she uttered one word her world would come tumbling down. Sitting at the table, she poured a cup of coffee from the insulated carafe and lifted the pewter cover from the dish, a box of cereal, a sliced grapefruit, and a muffin, all things that could have been ordered hours ago.

She picked at the muffin, not really having much of an appetite. Her back was stiff and she stared out the window as if she found the tops of buildings fascinating. Giving up on her breakfast, she sipped from her coffee cup.

“Did you have any plans today?”

She started and splashed hot coffee over her fingers. Hissing from the burn, she quickly put down her mug and grabbed the linen napkin.

Lucian was there in an instant. “Jesus, Evelyn, did you burn yourself?”

She was shaking terribly and couldn't meet his eyes. “It's fine,” she said, brushing away his touch.

“Here, let me.” He pushed her hands away and examined the red mark on the soft part of her hand between her index finger and thumb. He brought her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss there. Her eyes immediately welled up with tears.

“There, all better.”

His stare drilled into her. She shut her eyes, afraid to meet his penetrating gaze.

“Evelyn, look at me.”

“I don't want to.”

“Please.”

Her lashes fluttered open and she slowly lifted her face.

“Aw, baby, don't cry.”

She couldn't help it. A tear slid past her lashes and down her cheek. “I'm sorry.”

“I know,” he whispered, wiping away the tracks.

“Are you throwing me out?”

“What?” His voice was a rasp, his surprise at her question apparent. “God, love, no, I'm not throwing you out. Why would you even think that?”

She didn't have the courage to tell him what she overheard when he was on the phone that morning. Shaking her head she said, “Because I wasn't honest with you and I went back to Lower Folsom.”

“But now everything's out in the open, right?”

She nodded.

“Then let's put it behind us. Our time's too precious to waste arguing. Promise me you won't do anything like that again.”

“I promise.”

He tipped her chin up and gently kissed her lips. More tears fell as she pressed her lips to his, needing him desperately in that moment. His arms wound around her and she was lifted out of the chair. Lucian dropped to his knees, taking them both to the floor.

“Why do you have so many clothes on?” he asked as he stripped the bulky sweater off of her. “Were you expecting a blizzard?”

“I didn't know what to expect,” she admitted as he got her down to her jeans and bra.

He stilled. “Evelyn,” he said slowly. “You know I would never just throw you out. Tell me you know that.”

She didn't know that, but she nodded anyway. When the actual end of their relationship came there was no telling how it would go.

He reached for her face and ran his fingers over the arch of her cheekbone. “I'm an asshole. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did yesterday. It's just . . . I lost someone before. The thought of losing you, of anything happening to you, I . . . I can't bear it.”

She knew very little about Monique, his ex. All she knew was that he shared her with Slade the scumbag, and now she was dead. He never talked about her. She didn't know if he loved her. She didn't know how often he dreamed of her or thought of her. She didn't even know what the woman looked like or how she died. She only knew that for some reason Lucian felt responsible.

He pulled her into his arms. “I'm sorry. Let's forget about yesterday.”

They hugged for several long moments. His mouth slowly pressed kisses into her shoulder, her neck and down the center of her chest. Lifting her slightly, he undid the back clasp of her bra and slid the straps down her arms. He kissed over the swells of her breasts, down the valley in between. Undoing her pants and pressing them low on her thighs, he kissed over the sharp curve of her hips and to the top of her sex, but never once touched her nipples or her clit.

Evelyn arched toward his mouth, begging him for more with her body. “Lucian, please. I need you.”

“Shh.” He bit at her side, a soft reprimand for trying to take control. Finally, his tongue slowly licked over her needy sex. She moaned, her back bowing off the carpet. He slid his arm under her thighs, banding them together, pressing them to his chest as he licked again. Slow, long strokes of his tongue teased the sensitive bud.

Her fingers sifted through his soft hair, holding him to her and he bit her thigh. She squeaked.

“Hands above your head.” She groaned, but did as he asked.

The gentle torture continued and her skin glistened with sweat. The feel of her coarse jeans being yanked from her legs was like coming up for air after diving to the bottom of a swimming pool.

His mouth traveled slowly over her hip as he cradled her close. “Come to the bedroom,” he whispered.

She was putty in his hands. He scooped her up and carried her back to their bed. She nestled into his shoulder as he carried her, needing the reassurance that they were okay.

Taking his time, he covered her. His lips feasted on every sensual point of her body, licked at every sensitive curve.

She arched into him, wanting him inside of her, but Lucian remained in steady control as he slowly awakened every part of her soul. His warm breath heated the sensitive curve of her neck as he kissed her and fit himself between her legs.

She wrapped her limbs around him, holding tight as he gradually filled her. “Lucian,” she breathed, her lips pressing into his strong chest.

He held her to him. “I love you so much, Evelyn. I can't imagine being without you.”

They made love, taking their time and savoring every gentle thrust and quiver. The steady build of desire finally broke and washed away all her remaining tension.

Wave after wave of intense pleasure assaulted her, blacking out all rational thought, taking her body to a place her mind couldn't intrude. Time ceased to exist. All that mattered was Lucian. When he came, he did so on her torso, heat coating her rosy breasts, marking her with his scent. Her name fell from his lips and echoed off the walls. She never heard anything so beautiful in her life.

She loved him. God, she loved him. She hoped he truly meant what he said, because if he ever wanted her to leave she didn't think her mind, or her soul, would survive. Her body would never be the same after belonging so completely to Lucian Patras. Unfortunately, neither would her heart.