No, Lucien was the one. She trusted him with her body and her well-being, despite all this bewildering domination business, not to mention her unprecedented sexual reaction to it.
Even though she’d agreed to this thing with him, she didn’t want him to know about her vulnerability . . . her relative naïveté. Especially since he’d proposed such a sophisticated sexual arrangement. First of all, he’d never believe her, given all the hyped-up press about her. His disdain would hurt. Second of all, the idea of giving herself wholly when he knew of her weakness made her feel too raw. Too exposed.
Lucien had his secrets. It was only fair that she have one of her own.
Lucien stalked through the empty, hushed interior of Fusion, feeling particularly energized at the prospect of his upcoming meeting. A switch had been flipped in him recently. He’d discovered a newfound purpose here in Chicago, and it had nothing to do with Ian Noble.
He was considering buying a lovely vintage building ideally located in the South Loop near the once venerable, still atmospheric Prairie Avenue District. The location would make it the perfect spot for a restaurant and elegant boutique hotel. It was unusual for him not to have several new business ventures going at once. He’d restrained himself in the past year, however, unsure how long his business in Chicago would take. He still had several restaurants in Paris and one in Monte Carlo, along with four thriving European luxury resort hotels. He’d learned the hotel business firsthand from his father years ago. Each of the businesses he owned today had been acquired and cultivated completely on his own, however, without his father’s money or assistance. The only debt he owed his father was the excellent training Adrien had provided by allowing him to manage several of his hotels. Lucien figured he’d repaid that debt amply in hard work and lucrative business decisions. Elise may have called him an heir the other night, but in truth Lucien had never touched a cent of his inheritance. He’d built a respectable fortune of his own, and he’d be damned if he ever pocketed dirty money.
The decision to begin a new business signaled a change was in the offing for him. It felt like a breath of fresh air flowing over the dark oppression of the past few years.
The thought of fresh air made his head turn toward the kitchen.
It was three thirty in the afternoon, the calm between the lunch and dinner bustle in the restaurant. In the distance, he heard the metallic sound of cookware and pictured Elise in the kitchen, her lovely face sober as she focused her entire attention on her culinary task. The memory of how she’d tasted when he’d spontaneously kissed her the other day sprung into his mind in vivid detail. The taste of maple syrup had lingered on her tongue, but the flavor of her—Elise—had been sweeter still.
It’d been a week since he’d caved and hired her as his interim chef, seven increasingly brutal nights since he’d come to a decision about her. He’d kept his distance with the exception of that regrettable kiss, all too aware that he must wait. She was his employee, after all.
For the time being.
He’d kept close tabs on her. All reports about her cooking from his staff and patrons had been stellar. Sharon had expressed her amazement yesterday when she’d come into his office, announcing the arrival of another chef candidate for Lucien to interview.
“Are you unhappy with Ms. Martin’s work?” Sharon had asked.
“Not at all. Should I be?”
“No, everyone is raving about her food. And she’s very pleasant to work with. Have you ever noticed everyone smiles when she’s around? There’s certainly a new pep to Evan and Javier’s stride.”
“I pay her to cook, not perk up my male employees,” he’d muttered dryly.
“It’s not just the male employees,” Sharon had continued, undeterred by his frown. It was one of the reasons he liked Sharon. She had a mind of her own. “She’s a nice change for all of us. Do you know Maryanne won tickets to the symphony but couldn’t go because of her kids?” Sharon asked him, referring to one of their waitresses, a single mother. “Elise volunteered to watch Allie and David so Maryanne could go. That meant a lot to Maryanne. It meant a lot to me, too,” Sharon added thoughtfully. “And she’s doing a marvelous job of cooking. Why do you need another chef?”
“Ms. Martin isn’t a fully qualified chef yet,” Lucien had said briskly as he cleared his desk in preparation for the interview.
“Tell that to your elated customers,” Sharon had said wryly before she left to retrieve the chef candidate.
He’d pretended to be brusque, but in truth he’d been pleased that Elise had won Sharon over as a protector. Sharon was no pushover, and all of his employees looked up to her.
Another part of him was tense, however, waiting for the other shoe to drop. A calm atmosphere and Elise did not go together.
She was a storm waiting to break.
The thought flew into his head as he opened the smoked-glass doors of Fusion and saw Elise standing in the lobby of the Noble Enterprises tower wearing her chef’s smock and talking to Francesca Arno, Ian’s lover. She was several inches shorter than Francesca, although he doubted most people would notice the inequity of the two women’s heights. Elise was so vibrant and animated, like a flickering flame. As he watched, several casual passersby turned to look at her, and not just men. Her strength of character and palpable charm had always amazed him, even when she’d been a child.
Elise’s expression shifted when she took notice of his approach, but she kept chatting amiably until he arrived by her side.