I jerk my head. “Yes,” I say quickly. Having him this close is tipping my equilibrium. I mean, yes, I’m faithful and monogamous, but I am female and only human, for God’s sake, and Lucien is a rare specimen of gorgeous male. He smells good, too—like an expensive man.
Kissing me on both cheeks, he says goodbye and takes his leave. I rush to my room to pack and text Ian, letting him know I’m coming home and what flight I’ll be on. I sit down to worry about what awaits me when I get there and began contemplating how strange it is that life took me to Ian in the first place.
My flight is delayed by nearly an hour so I arrive at Portland International at 11:03 a.m. that same day. It was odd because I’d left Venice at 10:30 in the morning and I arrived in Portland at eleven so it was as if I never lost any time. I am startled to see that Ian is waiting for me just past the security gate as I make my way out. Seeing him stops me in my tracks for a moment: he looks mouthwateringly good. Before I even know what I am doing, I run into his arms.
“Ian!”
He catches me, but is clearly not expecting my… enthusiasm. “Ella. Did you have a good trip?”
“Yes, but why didn’t you call me or text me or take my calls?”
He ignores my question. “Do you have luggage to collect?”
“No. I only brought my carry-on. I’m an efficient packer.”
He takes my hand and leads me toward the exit and parking lot.
“So… are you going to answer my question?”
“I was angry, Ella. I didn’t think it productive to continue to argue with you and I knew any conversation would devolve into an argument. I’ve made my feelings crystal clear when it comes to your job.”
“Yes.” I bite my lip, wondering whether I should tell him about Lucien showing up in Venice. I decide to put it off for now and change the subject. “Ian, how do you know Mo Jackson?”
His expression is blank. “Mo Jackson? I don’t.”
“She claims to know you… or know of you.”
“Describe her to me.” Funny that he uses the exact same words as Lucien did before him.
“Tiny, about five feet without heels but she wears giant ones, dark red hair, cute, sort of elfin face, late thirties, maybe early forties, dresses very expensively.”
“And she claims she knows me?”
“Yes.”
“Mo,” he says, thinking. “Mo is short for Maureen, isn’t it?”
“Is it? I don’t know.”
“A few years ago I was spending months at a time in New York—almost relocated there, as a matter of fact. I still own my downtown loft in the financial district, though currently there’s a tenant subletting. The woman I was… seeing… had a friend who threw these BDSM-themed parties in a loft in the meatpacking district. That’s probably how she knows me. I seem to recall someone of that description being one of the regulars.”
“There is no way Mo is a submissive. She’s crazy strong.”
“I didn’t say she was a submissive. But there was a tiny, redheaded Domme…”
The laugh that erupts from my throat sounds more like a death rattle. “You have got to be kidding me? Is everyone in the world some kind of deviant?”
He gives me a sidelong glance and smirks. “Everyone in New York, certainly. Personally I felt very comfortable there… Now, tell me about Venice.”
Chapter 19
“Venice?” she repeats, as if stalling for time. Ian doesn’t like the hesitant look on her face. “What about it?”
He couldn’t wait for Ella to return to Portland, and unequivocally refused to analyze his feelings for her—mainly because it rather terrified him. Ever since Natasha, he’d managed to keep emotionally detached from every woman with whom he’d become sexually involved, no matter how attractive or affectionate she turned out to be. After what he’d endured five years ago, he vowed never to let down his guard and he hadn’t. For some reason, though, Ella Strong wasn’t letting him get on with the program.
What was it about her? Not only did he immensely enjoy her company, the joking and the verbal sparring, but he also felt very protective of her. Right now those protective instincts were kicking into high gear over the prospect of Alexis getting anywhere near Ella. He’d already pulled the glass house off the market and his staff would move his things from the houseboat to the estate while they were in Japan. He’d tell Ella about the threat once they were out of the country—he didn’t want to worry her. He was pissed because he’d been really enjoying his life on the water with fewer layers between him and the rest of the world. Now he’d have to retreat behind his self-constructed walls again… but he aimed to take Ella with him this time around.