received a call and disappeared on the other side of the wet bar to take it. Lucien walked away to get another drink.
Francesca begged off from Justin’s manic dancing and went to follow Ian. Elise glanced over a few minutes later in the midst
of conversation with Davie, Caden, and Justin and saw Francesca in Ian’s arms at the far corner of the deck, her face reflecting
in the moonlight as she looked up at him and they talked, their manner subdued . . . intense. Francesca nodded, as if in reassurance,
and Ian leaned down to kiss her, his head lingering.
As a particularly boisterous song came to an end, she saw Ian walking toward the door to the penthouse while Francesca busied
herself refilling guests’ glasses, passing hors d’oeuvres, and chatting with Jacob. Elise watched from the corner of her eye,
her curiosity mounting, as Lucien set his glass on the bar. His tall form melted into the shadows in the direction Ian had
just taken.
Lucien stood with his back next to the wall, listening intently through the partially opened mahogany door.
“Those are my only two options?” he heard Ian’s deep voice resonate from inside the library office. Lucien knew from his
many visits to the penthouse that it was the room Ian used for business while he was working at home. He’d hoped that since
Ian made the call inside, he’d use the house phone—Lucien could have more easily eavesdropped on the conversation then. Although
Ian had sought out the privacy of his office, however, he still used his cell phone. There was a pause as Ian listened to
whoever was on the other end of the phone speaking.
“I understand what you’re saying, but surely there must be more choices than to either try this new medication or insert
a feeding tube.” Lucien’s brow furrowed as he moved another inch inside the opened door, straining to hear. Ian sighed. “Fine.
Let’s do the medication, if it will make her eat. Yes, I understand,” Ian said, sounding grim. Weary. “If she doesn’t respond
to the new medication, a feeding tube will have to be inserted. Damn it, it’s so barbaric,” Lucien thought he heard the other
man hiss.
He froze when something drew his attention away from Ian’s tense conversation. Elise stood several feet away from him in
the hallway, her brows arched in amazement.
“I can’t be there for a few days yet. Fax the authorization papers to my residence,” Ian was saying. “We both know she hasn’t
been reacting well to the sight of me anyway,” he said, his voice sounding hollow . . . barren. “If anything, I’d say
I’ve
been the trigger to her worst periods recently, Julia.”
Elise opened her mouth. Before she could get off the first word of her demand to know what he was doing, Lucien lunged across
the space that separated them. He cupped her face and covered her mouth with his own. He applied pressure, swallowing her
tiny squeak of surprise, his entire focus on the man in the office.
Had Ian heard anything? he wondered distractedly.
Ian resumed his conversation with whoever was on the phone, but suddenly Lucien couldn’t comprehend a word he was saying.
Elise’s body was pressed against his, her breath coming in shallow, rapid gasps next to lips that had meant to silence, but
now were molding . . . shaping. He leaned down and fit the tight curves of her hips in his palms, his cock jumping at the
perfect fit. His fingers reached, digging into the firm, ripe flesh of her ass. He penetrated her lips with his tongue. Her
taste surged into his awareness.
She was clean and delicious, tasting of strawberries and champagne . . . and Elise.
She gave a muffled cry, but this one of arousal, not shock. He knew, because her tongue began to duel with his, hesitantly
at first, but as the friction built . . . energetically.
Yes
, this was the Elise he knew. So eager, so sweet, so addictive; he was a fool to have ever taken a taste in these circumstances.
Francesca begged off from Justin’s manic dancing and went to follow Ian. Elise glanced over a few minutes later in the midst
of conversation with Davie, Caden, and Justin and saw Francesca in Ian’s arms at the far corner of the deck, her face reflecting
in the moonlight as she looked up at him and they talked, their manner subdued . . . intense. Francesca nodded, as if in reassurance,
and Ian leaned down to kiss her, his head lingering.
As a particularly boisterous song came to an end, she saw Ian walking toward the door to the penthouse while Francesca busied
herself refilling guests’ glasses, passing hors d’oeuvres, and chatting with Jacob. Elise watched from the corner of her eye,
her curiosity mounting, as Lucien set his glass on the bar. His tall form melted into the shadows in the direction Ian had
just taken.
Lucien stood with his back next to the wall, listening intently through the partially opened mahogany door.
“Those are my only two options?” he heard Ian’s deep voice resonate from inside the library office. Lucien knew from his
many visits to the penthouse that it was the room Ian used for business while he was working at home. He’d hoped that since
Ian made the call inside, he’d use the house phone—Lucien could have more easily eavesdropped on the conversation then. Although
Ian had sought out the privacy of his office, however, he still used his cell phone. There was a pause as Ian listened to
whoever was on the other end of the phone speaking.
“I understand what you’re saying, but surely there must be more choices than to either try this new medication or insert
a feeding tube.” Lucien’s brow furrowed as he moved another inch inside the opened door, straining to hear. Ian sighed. “Fine.
Let’s do the medication, if it will make her eat. Yes, I understand,” Ian said, sounding grim. Weary. “If she doesn’t respond
to the new medication, a feeding tube will have to be inserted. Damn it, it’s so barbaric,” Lucien thought he heard the other
man hiss.
He froze when something drew his attention away from Ian’s tense conversation. Elise stood several feet away from him in
the hallway, her brows arched in amazement.
“I can’t be there for a few days yet. Fax the authorization papers to my residence,” Ian was saying. “We both know she hasn’t
been reacting well to the sight of me anyway,” he said, his voice sounding hollow . . . barren. “If anything, I’d say
I’ve
been the trigger to her worst periods recently, Julia.”
Elise opened her mouth. Before she could get off the first word of her demand to know what he was doing, Lucien lunged across
the space that separated them. He cupped her face and covered her mouth with his own. He applied pressure, swallowing her
tiny squeak of surprise, his entire focus on the man in the office.
Had Ian heard anything? he wondered distractedly.
Ian resumed his conversation with whoever was on the phone, but suddenly Lucien couldn’t comprehend a word he was saying.
Elise’s body was pressed against his, her breath coming in shallow, rapid gasps next to lips that had meant to silence, but
now were molding . . . shaping. He leaned down and fit the tight curves of her hips in his palms, his cock jumping at the
perfect fit. His fingers reached, digging into the firm, ripe flesh of her ass. He penetrated her lips with his tongue. Her
taste surged into his awareness.
She was clean and delicious, tasting of strawberries and champagne . . . and Elise.
She gave a muffled cry, but this one of arousal, not shock. He knew, because her tongue began to duel with his, hesitantly
at first, but as the friction built . . . energetically.
Yes
, this was the Elise he knew. So eager, so sweet, so addictive; he was a fool to have ever taken a taste in these circumstances.
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