Lucien(56)

“No.”



“But—”



“Elise, the money didn’t come from me.”



“It didn’t?”



He shook his head, a slight smile touching the corners of his mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but… my grandfather took care of it.”



Now she was even more confused. “Your grandfather took care of it? How? Why?”



“You’re the one who told me that Moonbeam collects men.” Luc chuckled softly and smoothed a thumb across her furrowed brow. “Lucas tells me that Moonbeam’s never had a sugar daddy before.”



“You mean to tell me that… your grandfather and my mother are,” Elise gulped, “having an affair? Since when?”



“Since the wedding. Uh-uh, no more pacing for you,” he said as she started to stand up. “Get back under here.” Luc stole a kiss, then slipped an arm around her waist and dragged her under the blankets. “Elise?”



“Hmm?” Her mind was distracted with her own thoughts as she snuggled down next to him. Moonbeam and Lucas? The New Age Princess and the Cynical Billionaire were having an affair? What in the world did they have to talk about?



“Thank you.”



“For what?” Lucas and Moonbeam couldn’t be any more opposite. Maybe the old saying—opposites attract—was true, but how long would the affair last? And why hadn’t Raven told her that Moonbeam had caught herself a sugar daddy?



Luc pulled her close and murmured against her temple, “For not wanting the money.”



Elise blinked, clearing her errant thoughts. “I didn’t marry you for the money.”



“Yes, you did.”



“No, I didn’t.” She smiled as he moved, hovering over her and studying her face. “I never wanted your money.”



“But you took it.”



“Lucien, if you had gone down on one knee and proposed instead of manipulating me, I would have told you to keep your money then instead of waiting until tonight.” She caressed his stubbled cheek. “Do you really believe that I—an old-fashioned, hopeless romantic—would have married you just to save my brother the pain of selling his motorcycle? To sacrifice my emotional happiness for a male status symbol? The guilt might have worked if Raven had ever let me drive Aphrodite, but he didn’t.”



His gaze drilled into her. “Then… why did you take the money?”



“To punish you for manipulating me.” Elise paused. “Those whiskey sours must have affected my logic more than I originally thought. I suffered more taking the money than you did for manipulating me.”



“I suffered, Elise. I didn’t realize how much until now, but I suffered.”



She brightened. “You did? I mean, um, that serves you right. The next time you try and manipulate me—”



He silenced her with a kiss. “There won’t be a next time. As long as you don’t count manipulating you out of your clothes and into a compromising position.” She melted as his voice turned husky and he plucked at one of the two buttons holding her shirt together. “Did I mention how good you look in my shirt?”



“Mmm, I don’t believe you did.” She arched her back as he dragged his tongue down her throat. “How good do I look in your shirt?”



“You look…,” he trailed off, lifting his head.



Elise tensed. “What? What’s wrong?”



“If you didn’t do it for the money, then why did you marry me?”



“Because I’m a sucker for Southern boys who can melt me with a look.” She gave him a tremulous smile and wound her arms around his neck, threading her finger though his thick, silky hair. “I never would have forgiven myself if I hadn’t married a man who respected my opinion, praised my competence, and valued my intelligence. A gentleman who understands my old-fashioned nature and holds the door for me and pulls out the chair for me. Someone I can respect and trust with my fanciful dreams.”



“Is that all,” he asked, his voice gruff.



“No.” Elise was drowning in his tender expression. His eyes were bright and smoky with emotions and she sensed the wariness in him as he waited for her to continue, but she couldn’t go on. She was suddenly swamped with insecurities, afraid to speak the words she felt so deeply. Terrified of how he would react or—even worse—not react.



“Tell me, Elise.” His whisper was hoarse and urgent. “Tell me why you you’re here. In my bed as my wife.”



The intensity of his voice sliced through her fear and she licked her lips, preparing to expose her heart, soul, and dreams to his haunted eyes. “I love you, Lucien.”