When You Defy Me (When I'm With You Part 2) (2 page)

He came out a moment later as she finished fastening her pants. She studied him anxiously from beneath lowered eyelashes
as she pulled down her smock. His short, thick hair looked sexily mussed. The strands at his temples and nape were damp, as
if he’d splashed his face and neck with water. She felt as if she had suddenly been transported to a strange country and didn’t
understand the language. She didn’t know how she was supposed to respond to him. None of her former experience with sex had
prepared her for this.

“Why don’t you go and wash up as well,” he said, his tone softer than she would have expected, given his palpable tension
level and obvious continued arousal.

Elise welcomed the opportunity for temporary escape from Lucien’s disturbing, compelling presence. She didn’t want him to
know how stupid she felt, how inadequate. She rushed into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. The cheeks of the woman
in the mirror shone red. Her eyes shone. It was another novel experience, seeing her reflection after she’d been so undone
by desire.

How could she possibly feel so humiliated at what Lucien had just done to her, and yet be so turned on by it at once? And
why, despite her anxiety about what Lucien would do next, did she also experience a strange calmness after what he’d done
. . . a newfound steadiness.

You can do this, Elise. You can handle Lucien Sauvage. You’ve talked dozens of powerful men into doing precisely what you
want
.

None so formidable as Lucien
.

She clamped her eyelids shut, silencing the annoying self-conversation in her head.

What had occurred in Lucien’s office was so alien to her, so powerful, the only way she could think to handle it was to ignore
it. She would plow forward with her plan. Lucien had admitted to wanting her, after all. She wasn’t entirely weaponless.

She washed and exited the bathroom, her chin up. He remained standing, his arms crossed, clearly waiting for her to return.
He’d turned down the stereo in her absence. His eyes gleamed from beneath a lowered brow as he studied her.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

“I’m fine,” she said almost flippantly, glad to hear her voice sounded even. Let him think she’d been spanked dozens of times,
just like he believed she’d fucked half the men in Paris. She would not tip her hand and reveal her vulnerability. She would
not let him know that he’d just rocked her world, or that she had no idea precisely how he’d done it.

“Are you finished
keeping me in line
?”

“For the time being.”

“Good. Can we talk about my job now?”

Her clear, melodious voice replayed in his mind again and again. He shook his head once as if to dislodge it.

“You haven’t got a job,” he said.

“Let me work here until you get another chef. You need the help, Lucien. You can’t close the restaurant for days on end.
Think of all the money you’d lose. If that doesn’t matter to you, think of your disappointed customers.”

His jaw ached when he unclenched it. It was a wonder to him Elise couldn’t see his body shaking. He vibrated with barely
contained lust. He didn’t want to have a rational conversation with Elise Martin; he wanted to bend her over his desk and
fuck her until every logical thought in his brain was incinerated by a glorious, explosive climax at her farthest reaches.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have punished her. The recollection of her courage in accepting it—the memory of her plump, pink ass—would
undoubtedly drive him over the edge into madness.

No, he’d been
right
to punish her. He knew that on some gut level. He’d sensed a serenity to her, a strength, that was compelling to behold.
She
did
require some kind of limit to her world. Lucien had understood that since he was twenty-one years old.

Still, she was right back to her bargaining and manipulation.

“What good would it do you to work at Fusion? You need a master chef to stage with and complete your training, correct?”
he reminded her, frustrated by her tenacity over this topic.

“Yes, but I could continue to fill in until you find one. With any luck, the chef you hire will want a stage. Knowing the
caliber of chefs you always choose in your restaurants, I’m sure he or she will be acceptable to my school in order to get
my degree. I’m very good at what I do, Lucien. I have talent.”

He closed his eyes briefly and glanced away. He hated the note of desperation in her tone. “You needn’t sound so defensive.
I know you have talent. Do you think I didn’t sample selections of your lunch?”

“I hadn’t realized,” she said, her surprised tone sounding genuine.

“I wouldn’t serve my patrons anything that wasn’t up to my standards. You surpassed them. You have an innate understanding
of the French and Moroccan blend I’m looking for.”

“Aha!”

His fierceness returned like flicking whip at the sight of her smug grin. Perhaps she sensed his knife-sharp lust mingling
with anger, because she forced her smile to vanish. For a few seconds, they just regarded one another in silence.

“I agree with what you said. I didn’t have many friends in Paris,” she said softly. “But you were my friend once, Lucien,
when we first met in Nice when I was a child. Lend me a hand again. Please.”

She was ruthless. He suspected she knew very well that he’d respond positively to a wide-eyed, sincere plea. Still, respect
for her tenacity tempered his irritation.

“I am a fool to even consider it,” he said after a billowing silence. “But I suppose it will allow me to monitor you even
more closely.”

She scowled at that. She really did delight him at times. When she noticed his fond smile, she smoothed her expression. “I
won’t disappoint you. You’ll see. I
will
make this work.”

He stepped toward her. “You will not tell your mother and father, or anyone of our common acquaintance in France, that you
know of my location. You will not say a word to anyone here in Chicago that we knew each other previously. To everyone else
in the world, we just met last night. You aren’t to mention anything about our former acquaintance. Not. One. Thing,” he said
succinctly. “Am I making myself clear, Elise?”

“Crystal,” she assured.

“You will follow my instructions in regard to your job without back talk and sass. The second you step out of line or try
to manipulate me, you will know a consequence. I will not have you defying me day in and day out. If you can’t agree to that,
then you can’t stay at Fusion. Those are my terms. I will put you on a salary until I can find a new chef. If and when you
enter your official training again, your salary and official job here will end.”

“I have enough money set aside to get me through the stage. If you pay me a salary until my training begins, I can stretch
what I have to make it work.”

He gave her a droll glance, his gaze sticking on the vision of her reddened cheeks and lips. No, it was not his lustful imagination.
Little Elise Martin had been aroused by her punishment.
Very
aroused. It was going to be such a pleasure, training her to his hand. His cock throbbed next to his thigh, as if in protest
at being ignored. It only added to the boiling brew of emotion he experienced. He turned away from the intoxicating sight
of her, worried that if he inhaled in such close proximity, he might catch her scent. He would snap then, for certain.

“Your papa would not see you starve,” he said sardonically, moving around his desk.

“No. But I would starve myself before slithering back to him for another handout.”

He lowered to his chair, glad the desk blocked his still primed arousal. He found her quiet conviction appealing. Elise had
what it took to make a success of whatever she attempted. It was her doubt in her strength, determination, and perseverance—in
herself
—that was her demon. Whether she could conquer that demon or not, Lucien was unsure.

He forced his mind to the practicalities at hand.

“I’ll have Sharon bring you a job application. I’ll have a contract drawn up for you as an interim chef. Saturday is market
day,” he said, picking up an invoice and studying it. “Since you’re so adroit at driving a race car, I assume you can drive
a four-wheel-drive truck?”

He glanced up when she didn’t immediately reply. “You might have heard how much I value locally grown food in my restaurants.
I want the freshest, most pristine, locally grown ingredients. It’s one of my chef’s duties to shop for the items he or she
needs for the week at a farmers’ market. There is more to being a chef than just cooking, Elise,” he added when she continued
to look amazed.

“Of course. I know how important marketing is,” she said defensively.

He nodded. “But being new in town—in the country, for that matter—I’m sure you’ll need some guidance through the process.
Usually Javier or Evan will go with you to assist, but this Saturday, I will. We should get there early to get the best produce.
Can you be ready by six?”

“Yes.”

He studied her through a narrowed gaze, sensing her bewilderment.
Good
. She’d been throwing him off balance since her arrival last night. It was about time she looked a little tongue-tied. “I’ll
need your address in order to pick you up.”

“I’ll just meet you near the market if you tell me where,” she said breathlessly.

He designated an intersection in the Gold Coast neighborhood for them to meet.

“I will set up medical exams for both of us tomorrow,” he said.

“Medical exams?”

“Yes,” he said calmly. “We should both know we are safe for sexual interaction. I know that I am, but I want to assure you
of the same. Are you on birth control?” he asked levelly.

She nodded.

“Good. In the meantime . . .”

“Yes, darling?” she prodded when he faded off.

His gaze flashed to meet hers.
Darling
. The word sounded completely contrived, frequently practiced, and yet . . . undoubtedly alluring uttered from her flushed,
ripe lips. Damn her. Always turning the tables. She waited, just a hint of amusement shining in her eyes.

“You are my employee. We’ll keep our distance from each other, for the time being.”

Her eyes widened in angry disbelief.

“You were the one who begged for the job,” he reminded her mildly.

“But that has nothing to do with—”

“It
does
,” he said sharply, shooting her a challenging look. “Remember? My rules? We’ll go at my pace, or you’ll feel a consequence.”

Her hand flickered to the side of her bottom, as if she’d suddenly re-experienced the sting of his hand. He scowled; his
cock lurched.

“Elise?” he prompted, waiting for her agreement.

“Oh,
fine
,” she muttered, giving him a mutinous glance before she started for the door.

“One more thing.”

She turned her chin over her shoulder, meeting his stare.

“Don’t ever call me darling again,” he growled softly. “I’m not one of your panting, disposable boy toys. I’m not even remotely
the same animal.”

He saw her throat convulse as she swallowed.

As he watched her scurry out of his office, his cock throbbing furiously, his emotional state raw, he wondered whether he’d
just untied the first knot in his sack, or tied off and tightened the monster of them all.

Later that evening, Lucien stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows of his sixty-second-floor penthouse onto a gray, brooding
Lake Michigan, holding a snifter of cognac in his hand. Originally, he hadn’t planned to be alone tonight. He’d had a date
following his match. He’d planned to spend the evening as he traditionally spent time after a polo match.

But then today had occurred. Then
Elise
had happened. And here he was, alone with a mess of unfinished business, a headful of doubt, and a hard-on that would not
remit, no matter how much he distracted himself.

They had won the match tonight, despite his fierce Argentinian-bred polo pony’s fouls. His teammates had joked that no one
could handle Jax save Lucien, but it wasn’t his horse that had been an unruly beast this afternoon. It’d been Lucien. Jax
had just caught his surly mood and become too aggressive in his defensive bumps of other players, incurring fouls.

His temper had been unregulated when he was a child and young man. He’d learned control beneath the hand of an older lover
at the age of eighteen. Natalia had sensed his need to master his emotions and desires and had tutored him in BDSM sex, Natalia
typically taking the role of master in the bedroom. It hadn’t taken long for Lucien’s dominant nature to assert itself, however,
and the couple had decided to amicably part ways. Lucien would forever be thankful to Natalia for teaching him the value of
control. At thirty-one, he didn’t consider himself to be a hard-core dominant, and didn’t require it in order to have satisfactory
sex with casual lovers. When it came to Elise, however, he sensed the importance of immediately asserting his role as the
sexual dominant. It would be such a pleasure to dominate her, but he intuited that it was important to Elise. She needed to
learn the power of not only self-control but of relinquishing control to another.

She needed to learn to trust. He
needed
her to put his trust in him. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to ask it of her, given her history of fragile, impermanent connections,
but he wanted it nonetheless.

How could he expect Elise to trust him when he harbored seeds of doubt about his very identity . . . about the fundamental
rightness
of his existence?

Don’t think about that
. It will get you nowhere but the bottom of a black pit of despair, he told himself irritably. What he’d told Ian Noble earlier
had been true. A man chose his fate of his own free will. Lucien understood that he was more secure in that knowledge than
Ian.

Still . . . the taint lingered; it’s legacy a haunting self-doubt that Lucien absolutely refused to let overcome him.

He forced his brain back onto the memory of the match this afternoon. Despite his typical discipline, he had allowed his
foul mood—not to mention his high and dry state—to get the better of him during the polo match, and that rankled at him.