Coming Home (24 page)

“Yes.”

She understood she was supposed to hand over some authority to him over the next thirty days, but this was not what they discussed. “But he’s
my
instructor.”

“I’ve arranged for you to use a boardroom on the ninth floor for your lessons. There’s a Smart Board and other items that may help. Welcome to school, Evelyn. Today you’ll be visiting your first classroom.”

She stilled, processing what he’d said. A classroom. Not her rinky-dink table that barely had a large enough surface for two books. Perhaps this was what he’d meant by making things easier for her. He hadn’t done anything but provide a space for them to work more efficiently, a space that likely would have been vacant on a day like today.

While most people might dread the idea of passing endless hours in a classroom, it was a novel experience for her, and she looked forward to it. Many times over the past week she and Jason had struggled to make room at her tiny table. Between the books, worksheets, and other notes there was a lot to manage. A larger table and classroom would be ideal.

“Thank you. That’ll probably make things a lot easier.”

He smiled and kissed her nose. “The room is yours as long as you need it. I’ve ordered the concierge to mark it as occupied until otherwise instructed. Feel free to hang things on the walls and leave your books there so you don’t have to lug more than you need back and forth. Your clothes are laid out on the bed.”

She flinched at the sudden change of subject. Glancing to the unmade bed, she saw denim and cotton folded neatly beneath a wisp of black lace. “You’re picking out my clothes now?”

“You never wear shorts. I wanted to see you in them.”

She thought for a moment, supposing she never wore shorts because they were impractical. Skin was the body’s best defense against outside objects. Long jeans were a precautionary form of armor. More than once she’d cut her knee slipping under a chain link fence.

He didn’t wait for her acquiescence. When he disappeared into the walk-in closet, she stepped over to the bed. The shorts were khaki and the shirt was a soft pink button-down with capped sleeves. There was also a white tank top to go underneath, no doubt to cover up the black demi bra he’d selected. Matching panties rested in a tiny drape of fabric.

Slipping out of her towel, she made quick work of dressing. Peeking out beneath the dust ruffle were two small sandals. She scooped them up and examined them. Flip-flops. Another type of clothing she never attempted for sensible reasons.

“Here, it may be chilly later and the boardrooms maintain a lower temperature because of the electrical equipment.” He stepped out of the closet, holding a white cardigan, and stilled. “You look lovely dressed like that.”

His gaze traveled down her legs and her cheeks warmed. “Where are all these clothes coming from?”

“The girls at the stores we visited in the fall have a record of your sizes. I told them you were in need of a summer wardrobe.”

It seemed her Lucian had truly returned, making snap decisions at the speed of light. “When did you contact them?”

“Last week when I noticed your sneakers were getting a bit worn. There are several new pairs in the closet.”

His fingers deftly flipped the navy silk of his tie and knotted the loop, cinching it tight at the collar. He slipped into his jacket and kissed her again. “I’ll make an appointment for your torture session downstairs and have them call up with the time. They’ll fit you in before Jason gets here.”

“Lucian, I have to go home.”

He turned and frowned. “Why?”

“Because I don’t live here.”

He stepped close and smiled. “What would you do at home until your lesson?”

She frowned. Nothing. She had everything she needed here: clothes, her books, her phone. She didn’t even leave a dish in her sink. There was no reason for her to leave.

She had intended to go to the salon eventually, knowing he preferred her waxed with only a trimmed patch at the top. Looked like he’d thought of everything. She supposed she could indulge him for his thirty days. What was the harm? So long as he wasn’t interrupting her plans with Jason, she saw no trouble in humoring his request. “I guess I could stay here.”

“Good.” He kissed her lips, a satisfied grin on his face.

She took a few experimental steps in her flip-flops. The smack of the shoe against her heel made her frown. God, she was like an alien, always trying to get used to new things.
Get over it, Keats. They’re shoes.

Lucian hustled in and out of the room, sorting through his money on the bureau, returning to the bathroom to tidy his hair, and finally to kiss her good-bye. When he left, the condo was filled with impenetrable silence. She wandered around for several moments, pondering what she should do for the next few hours.

The sharp ring of the house phone startled her. “Hello?”

“Ms. Keats?”

“Yes?”

“This is Camille from the salon. Mr. Patras asked me to call and inform you your appointment is at eleven.”

She glanced at the clock. It was quarter to. “Oh, okay. I’ll be right down.”

“He wanted me to remind you to bring a book so you have something to do during your paraffin treatment and pedicure.”

So he
had
decided what she would be doing with the remaining hours of the day. She smiled. If she shoved away the initial offense at being coddled, she could actually get used to feeling so cared for. “Okay. Thank you.”

She hung up the phone and went to her bag. Evelyn wasn’t going to bust out her elementary workbook at the salon, so she grabbed her dictionary. She’d practice reading words. Jason had been working on combination sounds and consonant blends with her. She’d play around in the
ph
section for a while, because that still threw her off.

Chapter 16

Speak Easy

Over the following days, Evelyn discovered a side to herself she only knew from distant musings. Lucian decided everything for her from the type of panties she wore to what vegetables she ate with her dinner. She couldn’t imagine how such an arrangement was benefiting him. She, on the other hand was making out like a bandit.

She saw no fault in temporarily indulging his request to take better care of her, so long as he didn’t override her decision to continue with her education. Her lessons with Jason took an incredible amount of time. The work she did on her own often left her tired, but Lucian was encouraging her every step of the way. His determination to control the little details was actually helping her focus on her top priorities.

The freedom of not having to make one decision after another cleared her head into a state of purity she never experienced before. Her tasks were simple: focus on her schooling, rest, tend to Lucian—which was never a chore—and simply be.

It was a vacation from herself in a fundamental but intangible way she was quickly learning to live with. And she
liked
his choices, from the style of underwear to the menu. He knew her so well, knew what she liked, and appeared to understand exactly what she needed.

On Friday morning, Lucian arranged for Dugan to take her to visit Pearl. Evelyn complained, still feeling beaten down from her last visit with her mother, but he felt it was for the best that she replace her recent memories with better ones. In the end, she was glad he pushed her.

Pearl was quiet, somewhat withdrawn, but the presence of sullen doubt and jaded opinions helped to put Evelyn’s world back on its proper axis. As always, her mother complained about her stay at the rehab as though she were an imprisoned criminal, voicing falsehoods of how good she used to have it on the streets.

Evelyn took stock of the increased thickness of her mother’s wrists, the fullness of her hair, and the lack of sallowness in her skin. These were the evidence of better living. Lucian had done this as well. Her mother, who had been malnourished and withered since Evelyn could remember, was finally beginning to look like a somewhat healthy person. Her jaded, cynical opinions of the world said otherwise, as did her nonsensical ramblings that indicated mental illness, but Evelyn had grown used to such tendencies.

Nevertheless, Lucian had suggested setting Pearl up with a specialist capable of performing evaluations of her mental health and possibly getting her on additional medication. Evelyn agreed it wouldn’t hurt to utilize the professionals at her mother’s disposal, but it was still a lot to take in. Her mother was not normal and would always be a little bit broken. Seeing physical improvement at least made up for something.

Once her visit with Pearl was over, Evelyn saw that Lucian was again right. Seeing her mother had healed some of the hurt from her prior visit. Once back at the penthouse, she’d called Lucian and thanked him, telling him she’d like to see her again soon. Lucian seemed touched by her gratitude and wished her a good rest of the day. Next it was off to her lesson with Jason.

***

As she sat, distracted by the clock, impatient for Lucian to return home, Jason read a page from the light chapter book they were working on. It was about a seal named Sam. Or was he a starfish? She wasn’t paying much attention.

“Evelyn, it’s your turn.”

She looked away from the clock on the wall. “Oh. Sorry.”

He laughed. “Just like the rest of my students. Here,” he said, pointing to the paragraph they were on.

She fumbled over the words slowly, mispronouncing several. Jason never gave her the answers like she sometimes wished he would. Rather, he prompted her to take a second look and notice certain letter combinations. Evelyn easily became frustrated with her inability to simply read, but Jason had patience in spades.

“Very good,” he said when she finished the paragraph.

He read the next one, and she admired the way his voice easily flowed over the words. She hoped one day she too could read so smoothly. It was as if he somehow predicted the tone in which the characters intended to speak. Her words always came out jagged and segmented in a way that made it difficult to comprehend the purpose of each sentence.

They worked for several hours and she was getting hungry. His phone vibrated quietly on the table. He glanced at it and she paused in her reading. “Keep going,” he said, typing into his phone and putting it aside.

When she finished he shut the book. “We’re done?” she asked.

“Looks that way. Lucian asked that I wrap things up.”

“Oh.” She should’ve never given him Jason’s number.

“I’ll be back tomorrow at ten, so no homework tonight.”

“You’re coming tomorrow?”

“Yes, but not again until Monday afternoon. I’d like to see you do the pages I circled in your workbook by then. And I have another assignment for you, a sort of project.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

“I want you to start texting. No abbreviations, real words only. You have a smartphone, so there’s auto correct. Seeing the full spelling pop up will help with your recognition and increase your fluency. You’ll start picking up on sight words from the first syllables. I want you to try to send a text every hour you’re awake. Do you know how?”

She shook her head and he reached for her phone. He explained how to open the little speech bubble icon and plugged Lucian’s name in from her contacts. “Once the message is opened, all you have to do is click on the line and type your text. Try writing ‘On my way.’”

He slid her the phone and she searched the keys. “They aren’t in order.” Where the hell was the
O
?

“You’ll get used to that after a while. Just take it one word at a time.”

After several minutes of hunting for the right letters, she typed “On my wa,” and then auto correct plugged in the
y
she didn’t know went with “way.”

“Good. Now hit Send.”

She did, and her phone made a little
vip
sound that sent a little thrill through her. “I did it!”

“Yup.” Jason stood and collected his things. Her phone whistled and she frowned at the screen. “Did he reply?”

She slid her thumb over the screen and there was a text from Lucian. “It says . . .” The words were big. “I can’t read it.”

Jason looked at the phone and frowned. “We’ll have to tell him to start with smaller words. That first word is
anxiously.
You try reading the rest. Remember to break them down.”

She sounded out the next word. “A-wait-ing you.”

Jason smiled and she grinned as well, feeling her cheeks warm slightly. “Better get going.”

They parted at the elevators and she traveled up to the penthouse suites. The private elevator announced her arrival with a soft chime and her phone whistled. Reaching in the pocket of her shorts, she withdrew the cell just as she slid her key into the door. It was another text from Lucian.

Stop

She stilled, knowing the word stop. The door shut behind her and her phone whistled again. Her feet remained planted in the entrance of the suite just by the coat closet.

Clothes off

Her lip curled in a half smile as her neck stretched, trying to spot him. His tie coiled in a circle on the small accent table to her right. He was home.

She removed her shirt and shorts and toed off her flip-flops. Her thumbs glided under the band of her panties, and her arms slid out of her bra. Lastly, she undid her ponytail.

Her fingers snatched up her phone from the table and texted back. It took forever to find the keys. She tried to type
done
, but the word didn’t look right. So she went with a word she knew.

off

She heard the soft buzz of his phone receiving the text and assumed he was at his desk. A moment later, her phone whistled.

Let me see

She smirked and left the phone on the table as she slowly walked into the sitting area. Lucian sat behind his mahogany desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin, collar undone. He looked handsome as hell.

“Hi.”

His gaze traveled over her form. “You learned to text,” he said, smiling.

“I did.”

“I like it.” He slid his chair back. Warm sunlight filtered through the enormous glass wall behind him, catching highlights in his ebony hair. “Come here.”

Her bare feet pressed into the carpet as she stepped around his desk. Papers were piled haphazardly over the surface. Her body stood in the space just outside of the V of his knees. His gaze roamed up her legs and settled on her breasts. He didn’t move, just watched her.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

How could she forget? He terrified her. She thought he was a guest at the hotel and, because she had inadvertently knocked over some things on his desk, was going to get her fired. “Yes.”

“I’ve left something for you in the guest room. Go put it on and come back here.”

She turned and followed the hall to the spare room. When she entered, there was an object sitting on the bed in a pile of folded satin that looked like an animal. Approaching the bed, she saw it was a feather duster. She laughed.

Her fingers pushed it aside and lifted the satin, discovering a maid’s uniform. It was nothing like the uniform she’d worn while employed at Patras. No, this was sinfully provocative.

The bodice was a whaleboned black corset. The skirt was more of a ballerina tutu made up of crinoline with a short lace apron tied up with ruched bows. Beneath the costume sat a matching lace bonnet and wide-net thigh highs topped with bows. Looking down, she spotted a very dangerous pair of platform pumps.

Is he kidding with the shoes?

She picked them up and her eyes widened. Clearly a man invented them. The heels reached from the tip of her middle finger to her wrist, easily over six inches. The soles were devil red. It simply wasn’t natural for a foot to arch that far.

She sat on the bed and shimmied into the costume. Cool air brushed her bare cheeks peeking out the ruffled skirt as she pulled on each thigh high. Taking a deep breath, she slid her feet into the shoes. Someone could get a nosebleed at this altitude.

She grabbed her bonnet and wobbled over to the mirror. After fitting the band to her head and finding her balance she—
carefully—
walked back to the common area, grabbing her feather duster along the way.

She entered the room, and in her best French accent, she said, “
Bonjour
,
Monsieur Patras
. You called for housekeeping?” She didn’t know where the French words came from. She supposed, after so many months at the hotel, she’d picked it up from some of the staff.

Great satisfaction filled her as his lips parted and he breathed, “Jesus.”

She smiled. “Shall I dust for you?”

He cleared his throat and shifted his weight in his seat. “Yes. I’d like you to dust my desk.”

Trying hard not to snap her neck or break an ankle, she did her best impression of a sexy walk. When she was within arm’s length of him and his desk, she pouted. “Oh, but I have strict instructions not to touch Monsieur Patras’s desk.”

“You’ll have to be careful not to make a mess.”

She smiled over her shoulder and bent enough to give him a peek at her bare behind as she proceeded to dust around his many papers. A ghostlike touch traced up the inside of her leg, and she paused. Her body arched over the right side of the desk and she continued to dust. A sheaf of papers on the far left corner tumbled to the ground, and she stilled.

“You knocked over my papers,” he said. She knew full well he deliberately pushed them over on purpose. “Better pick them up.”

She lowered herself to the ground and crawled to the papers. After stacking them in some sort of order, she slid them onto the desk. “I’m so sorry, Monsieur. Perhaps I can make it up to you?”

He grinned. “How?”

“I’ll do whatever you ask.”

Raising an eyebrow, he said, “Take out my cock.”

Her belly tightened as she crawled between his knees and undid his zipper. He was hard when she pulled him out. She looked to him for instruction.

“Put me in your mouth.”

Leaning forward, she engulfed him with her mouth and proceeded to suck him off. He didn’t touch her as she worked his flesh. When his length twitched over her tongue like he was about to come, he said, “Stop.”

His cock slid from her lips as she settled back on her heels. Something hot and liquid tightened in the pit of her belly.

“Do you like sucking my cock, Ms. Keats?”

“Yes, sir.”

He growled. “I’d like a scotch on the rocks.”

She rose from the floor. Her shoes elevated her, and the netting of the stockings sensitized her legs. The short skirt rustled, and cool air touched her sex as she carefully sauntered to the bar. Fishing out three cubes of ice, she poured the amber liquid and carefully carried the glass back to the desk. She handed it to him, but he didn’t take it.

“Straddle me.”

Glancing at the desk, she looked back at him askance.

“Put it on the coaster.” She did as instructed.

Balancing on one wobbly foot, she lifted her leg over his knees and lowered her body. He caught her hips and drew her close. His cock stood between them as he reached for her bodice and split the fabric wide with a quick tug. The satin material shredded to her bellybutton. She gasped and his hands cupped her breasts, fingers brushed over her nipples until they drew into sharp little points.

He growled and released her, reaching around for the glass and taking a sip. Her eyes watched the curve of his throat, his Adam’s apple slowly rising as he took a long swallow of scotch. He placed the glass back on the desk and leaned forward to capture her nipple in his mouth.

She hissed at the cool touch of his tongue and realized he’d stolen an ice cube from the glass. The brush of frozen water to her heated flesh sent chills up her spine and down her chest. She shivered and he chuckled as he moved to her other breast.

He played with her nipples until she felt like she might come. His fingers tugged and pulled at the nubs while his frosty mouth teased. She rocked over him, grinding against his cock, and he gripped her hips. “Are you stealing from me?”