A Perfect Storm (16 page)

Lucien grunted, “Suit yourself,” and pulled his laptop across the desk.

In a stalemate, neither of them moved or made another comment until Emma entered hours later to announce dinner.

Chapter Eight

“I swear, Miranda,” Sophie said over the phone, “everything here is fine.” Sophie’s skin heated as she deliberately left out any part of what had happened in Lucien’s study yesterday afternoon. That would definitely
not
be part of their Raven Island story. “Better than, even. Mr. Cabot has agreed to let us do the piece. It’s just a matter of waiting for access to Ravenstoke so you can get a feel for it and the story yourself. While we’re waiting, I’m getting in a lot of research about its history.”

“The mainland is still trashed,” Miranda shared. “And the marina looks like some kid was playing a violent game of pirates in his bathtub and wrecked all his toy boats. Everyone at the station has been out covering the cleanup nonstop. I’ve barely been home to sleep.”

“Who’s producing you?” Sophie itched to dive fully back into her job. Withdrawal symptoms had her circling the meeting area on the second level of Ravenstoke with a prowling gait. “Bill better not have put you with Dirk the Jerk.” The guy’s reputation for being just enough of a prick to the women at the station to be annoying but not enough to get him fired was legendary. Sophie had ambition that went well beyond producing the lead stories for the prime hours of local newscasts. She wanted Bill’s job one day. She wanted to call the shots. Every day, with every story she produced, she told herself patience and hard work would eventually get her there.

“He teamed me with Brad, so it’s been good. But not great,” Miranda added. “I want you back.”

“Hopefully within a week.” The pulsing drive inside Sophie to get back to work warred with her growing need to delve deeper inside Lucien’s head and heart to learn the secrets of the private man. Shaking herself back into the moment, she said, “I know you barely have a free minute, but start reading those files I emailed you when you get a chance.”

“I already took a quick peek. It looks like it’ll be a great story.” Masculine murmurs sounded through the phone, and then Miranda said, “That’s Brad. I have to go. Talk to you soon.”

“Stay safe.”

Miranda’s laugh cackled through the earpiece. “For some reason, I still think I should be saying that to you. Bye!”

“Bye.”

After ending the call, Sophie threw herself down on the couch, determined to get back to work. She grabbed one of Lucien’s folders, filled with copies of correspondences to William’s wife from family and friends she’d left in England. Fingering the first sheet of paper did nothing to corral her focus. It only slipped her thoughts to the polite silence that had existed for hours in Lucien’s study yesterday after he’d made her come.

Sophie grumbled where she sat, still wanting to spit glass in the face of Lucien’s willpower. No, that wasn’t exactly right. His coolness toward her did smart, but more than that, it dismayed and confused her. Lucien’s ability to turn his sexual needs on and off, with so much overwhelming carnal desire on full display all around him, had her wondering if a major component of his makeup was robot rather than human. She knew he had feelings; she’d picked up on him fighting his temper in the face of some of the challenges she’d thrown his way in the last few days. Then there was the playfulness he’d exhibited with Owen in the snow too. But the sheer mental strength he’d possessed to talk down his raging hard-on and not let himself orgasm when everyone else around him had stunned her. Maybe concerned her as well. Made Sophie wonder if Lucien had the ability to control every other aspect of his life so ruthlessly too.

Shivering, she recalled how an Internet search last night for information about Josh Cabot’s death hadn’t turned up a single piece of information for anyone with that name, alive or dead, in the last ten years. No variation of the first name had succeeded either. Sophie knew the man had to be real and that he had passed away; Emma would not speak of Owen’s father to the boy in that manner, nor would Lucien, for that matter, as part of some con on Sophie. Rather, for Sophie, it displayed more of the absolute power Lucien had and how he could direct it when he chose to. He clearly controlled the information about him and his brother on the Internet, and right now Sophie did not have access to deeper, more expensive types of searches.
I’m stuck
. Sophie chuckled with derision.
Just where he wants me.

Every hair on Sophie’s arms suddenly tingled and lifted. She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to know Lucien walked down the hall behind her.
Shoot
. Each quiet step that brought him closer to her ignited a response deep in her core.

By the time Lucien rounded the couch and came into Sophie’s line of sight, her throat had gone dry. One look at him, with his austere, beautiful face and cool stare, attached her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t even let herself absorb the rest of his sinewy, hard body in snug black clothing. She knew if she did, she would visibly tremble under his casual scrutiny.

“Good morning, Miss Emerson.” Lucien offered her an abbreviated bow. “You’re up early.”

It took a moment to get moisture back into her mouth, but Sophie managed to reply, “This is more on par with my normal wakeup time. I don’t usually keep the late hours I had the first few nights of my stay.” With the images of why she hadn’t slept much filling her brain, an immediate warmth suffused Sophie’s sex, but she successfully overpowered the urge to cross her legs. “It took me a few days to adjust, but I think I’m there.”

“Let Emma know if you need anything.” With a slight dip of his head, Lucien turned to leave.

Don’t do it. Don’t do it. You’re poking a barely caged animal
. “Is this who you are, Mr. Cabot?” Sophie blurted anyway.

From the top of the stairs, Lucien turned and narrowed that citrine focus on her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Needing to be on at least a somewhat more level ground with him, Sophie stood and moved to stand in front of him. She still had to look up to see into his eyes, but at least she no longer felt as if she was cowering on the couch. “Are you the kind of guy who introduces a woman to exhibitionism and makes her come, only to then behave as though it never happened?”

Lucien arched one of his raven brows. “I wasn’t aware you wanted to have a conversation about it. What would you like to say?”

“God, you are such a frustrating man.” Sophie clenched her fingers so that she didn’t grab the fine knit of his black sweater and shake him.

“That’s not exactly news to me.” His grin would tempt the pope to smack him.

With a glare, Sophie muttered through clenched teeth, “And you just looovvve watching me twist uncomfortably in the wind.”

“I don’t wish you any discomfort at all.” Lucien maintained that maddening rational tone. “You showed an interest in what happens at Ravenstoke. I gave you a sample of it. If you’d like another taste, then simply ask, and I will happily accommodate you. Your problem, Miss Emerson”—he dipped down to speak softly at her ear—“is that you want what happened to be more complicated than it is. I imagine that’s the producer in you searching for connections and a story.”

“No,” she retorted, “that’s the human being inside me looking for some subtle human acknowledgment from you that you had your fingers buried inside me until you made me come. Twice.” Her voice had reached a shrieklike state, but dang, she could not control it. “In front of other people!”

Lucien looked as if they were having a casual brunch in a restaurant full of people. “How would you like me to acknowledge it? Should I have kissed you good morning?” The gold flecks in his irises twinkled. “Or maybe you’d rather I drag you to bed and fuck you as a hello.”

“At this precise moment, I promise you that screwing me is the very last thing I want you to do.” Every ounce of control Lucien exhibited so easily, something he clearly relished showing her, pushed Sophie’s control to its breaking point. “God, you are a son of a bitch sometimes.”

Lucien clasped his hands behind his back. “I’m aware of that too.”

Damn it
. Sophie gritted her teeth.
Darn it
. She’d just realized he made her curse. Few people got under her skin enough to make that happen. “Never mind, then.” Sophie strode back to the couch and her work. She’d surely have better luck getting straight answers out of a bunch of dead people. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

In three long strides, Lucien had himself at Sophie’s side. He braced his weight on the arm and the back of the couch, and dipped down until he looked right in her eyes. “Miss Emerson, I have no intention of denying what I did to you in my study yesterday. In fact, I would like to do it again. My fingers smelled of you all afternoon and night, and I spent much of that time hard.” His eyes slid closed for just a moment, and the slightest tension lined his jaw. He quickly trapped her in his gaze once more, though, and continued. “But that is purely sexual, and I embrace it as part of my desires. Everybody at Ravenstoke does. These things are not usually followed by undying confessions of love, no matter what Jade and Emma said to each other. What we do here is about desire and arousal and fulfilling those parts of ourselves, not love. Before you join in again, you have to decide if you can play in the same arena. Now”—he pushed to stand upright and then moved back to the stairs—“I leave you to your research.”

Once again, Sophie ignored her better judgment. “Mr. Cabot.”

“My dear Miss Emerson.” With one turn to face her, that sly, arrogant smile Lucien so clearly loved appeared again. “You think you’re irritating me when you address me like that, but in truth, you have no idea what it does to my cock.”

Somehow, Sophie managed to keep her gaze from dropping to his crotch. “Yes, well…”
Darn it
. Irritation, aimed at herself this time, nipped at Sophie’s heels.
Just ask already
. “If said appendage was so hard yesterday, why didn’t you take care of it?” Her heart hammered a bit too hard for comfort, but she held his stare. “Why didn’t you let me do it?”

If Sophie hadn’t been paying close attention, she would have missed it. But it happened. Lucien flinched.

“As I told you,” he replied, recovering quickly, “that’s not how it works.” He bowed again, much stiffer this time. “I’m sure I’ll see you later.”

Sophie watched Lucien as he walked down the stairs, and she didn’t blink or look away until she could no longer see him. The whole time, one question buzzed in her head above the thousand others: What in the heck did his comment
“that’s not how it works”
mean?

She used to love mysteries and puzzles. She recalled fondly how just a few days ago she’d relished the idea of finding out everything she could about Ravenstoke and its master. Now the same thoughts spiked a dull pain behind her left eye. At the same time, it was barely eight thirty in the morning and she already needed a fresh pair of panties. Lucien’s very presence, no matter how much she didn’t want it to, made her wetter than she’d ever experienced in her life.

With a groan, Sophie banged the side of her head against the arm of the couch. The truth was, she needed to start examining herself more closely to find the answer to the most important question of all: What was it about Lucien Cabot that made her care about him and his castle so much more than what was needed for a story?

* * * *

This time, when Lucien felt someone enter the study, he looked up before speaking. He could not risk the kind of slip-up he’d let happen yesterday. Lucien easily could have said something about his plans for Sophie, to the very woman herself, and killed the whole reason for her presence. Luck would not be on his side twice.

Before Magnus took a second step, Lucien told the man to shut the door behind him.

Once Magnus complied, he sent a sideways glance Lucien’s way. “What’s going on? I thought you wanted Sophie to have open-door access to you during the day. That’s how she’s going to get lulled into trusting everyone during her time at Ravenstoke.” The pointed look Magnus shot Lucien’s way would have unmanned someone with a kinder soul. “Right?”

“I don’t have the patience for your judgmental stares and innuendo, Magnus.” Lucien snarled with the same vehemence Magnus put into his glare. “Sophie could have walked away from what happened yesterday at any moment, had she wished to. Just because I clasped her arms behind her back didn’t mean I ever held her against her will.”

“You got what you wanted out of her,” Magnus said while letting his gaze slide to the conference table, “so why haven’t you taken the next step?”

With a snort, Lucien tossed his pen on the desk. “It’s not enough. We are not even close to an eye for an eye yet, so do not stand there and act as though we are.”

Deep swirls clouded Magnus’s violet stare. “You are wrong, Lucien. You have taken this to a terrible extreme, all on the word of the one person you should not trust.”

Lucien’s jaw clenched, and he battled slipping back to sitting beside his brother’s bed and the miraculous yet horrific last moments of Josh’s life. “It was on his deathbed.” Roughness filled Lucien’s voice. “You were there. He had no reason to lie.”

Shaking his downturned head, Magnus sighed. “Your judgment is clouded by love and grief. It has made you forget the choices you made about Josh before that night changed everything.”

Emotion clogged Lucien’s throat, making each word a challenge to speak. “For just a few moments, there was clarity.” Lucien looked to Magnus but instead could see the sunken face of his brother before his eyes, and the brief flash of brightness in Josh’s hazel/green gaze. “He looked me right in the eyes as he told me what happened.”

“Just as he did not blink when he told you he could not have fathered Emma’s child.”

“Not the same.” Heat sliced through Lucien’s system, quickly boiling his blood. “He was scared then. He didn’t know how I would react.”

Magnus shook his head, and his hard mouth pulled in a frown. “In point of fact, he knew exactly how you would respond, which was why he spent every second up to that DNA test praying Emma had naively let someone else from the club have unprotected sex with her. Not to mention, he knew it would have a trigger effect on—”