“It…was five years ago. Before I left home.” In the warmth of his arms, I find myself clinging to his strength. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you.”
Lucian pulls back, holding me at arm’s length. “Lia, you don’t have anything to be sorry about, and I’m an asshole if I made you think that. Honey, I know I don’t have any right to ask you this, but did he…were you, fuck, did he rape you?”
“No,” I whisper. “After a while, he didn’t want me that way.” I drop my head back to his chest, soaking up the comfort he offers.
“Thank fuck,” he sighs, holding me closer for another moment. We stand that way for another few minutes. I sense he wants to question me further, but he doesn’t, and I’m grateful; I don’t want more of my past ugliness spilled onto him. We both start dressing, and he helps me into my shirt. His cellphone seems to be alternating between texts and ringing, and I know he needs to go. He quickly leads me through the apartment and quietly answers my questions. The place is mostly clean, and I can’t imagine having more than an hour of work to do here. As I walk him to the door, he rubs my arm, saying, “You know this isn’t necessary. I don’t need you to be my housekeeper. I would much prefer hiring someone and having you concentrate on your schoolwork. Hell, if I could keep my damn hands off you, the office would be a much better place for you to learn something beneficial.”
My first smile since the revelation in the bathroom stretches across my face. Despite my scar, he still wants me. I release a breath I hadn’t been aware of holding. “I don’t mind, Luc. I’ve never been given anything for free, and I don’t intend to start now. I would love to witness the inner workings of your company, but not if it would be a distraction for you.” Giving him a teasing grin, I add, “Since you don’t seem to be a slob, this should be an easy job with a flexible schedule for school.” He still looked undecided, so I push him gently toward the door. “Go to work and make some millions or whatever brilliant thing you do there. I’ve got countertops to clean.”
He throws his head back, laughing at my reference to his counters and our earlier activities. “All right, point taken. I had better go before Sam stops calling and comes up here to drag me out.” We both look uncertain for a moment. Should I kiss him goodbye? Thankfully, he takes the decision from my hands and drops a quick kiss on my lips. Thank God; if it had been the forehead, self-doubt would have reared its ugly head again to choke me. “Lock the door behind me,” he orders, and then he is gone.
After I lock the door, I turn to survey his home. Floor-to-ceiling windows make up the living and dining room areas. Two cream-colored leather sofas provide comfortable, but modern, seating areas in front of a large fireplace. The adjacent dining room has seating for eight around a long, mahogany table. Rich hardwood floors flow into the kitchen I briefly glimpsed this morning. I figure this was a good place to start my new duties. As with the rest of the apartment, it appears mostly clean. I empty the coffee maker, cleaning it before resetting it for Lucian. I find some granite cleaner under the cabinet and wipe down all the surfaces. I know I am blushing as I remember what we had been doing on the kitchen island just a short time ago.
Lucian has a restaurant-grade stainless steel stove I take a moment to familiarize myself with. I don’t know if cooking is part of my job description, but I think it would be nice to have a meal for him this evening. I can always leave it in the refrigerator if he doesn’t arrive home before I leave.
After finishing in the kitchen, I head to the laundry room. I wash the items in the basket, but assume from the dry-cleaning bags in his closet that he must have his suits professionally cleaned. That is a huge relief since I have no desire to ruin something so obviously expensive.
His bedroom is large but relaxing. The walls are painted a tan color with the darker brown bedding that’s a perfect complement. The hardwoods are here, as well, with rugs on each side of the bed. There is nothing worse than putting your feet on cold floors first thing in the morning, and apparently Lucian feels the same. I quickly make his bed, stopping only to appreciate the soft sheets; the thread count is probably off the charts on these babies. The bed smells of Lucian, and I have to fight the urge to lie down and snuggle into the sheets.
The bathroom is next on my agenda, and I pause for a moment there. Discomfort floods through me at the memory of Lucian touching my scar. I was moved that he was so angry on my behalf, embarrassed he knows what had happened to me at the hands of my stepfather, and curious as to his strong reaction; his anger had been palpable when he struck the wall. Running my hands over the area, I feel a small indention. Had it been my pain that he’d felt or had it brought back memories of his past?