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