Page 27 of Is This Real or Just Pretend?

But the rest of his words were lost as Alex leaned forward and gently licked his earlobe.

She had never done such a thing before. Had never even thought to do such a thing.

But in this moment it felt essential. Like she would go mad if she didn’t do it.

Lucien let out another strangled moan and turned his face toward her, capturing her mouth in a deep kiss that seemed to melt into another and then another, until it was endless.

When Alex regained slightly more of her sense, she stroked him even harder and his hips began to jerk upward, as if seeking more of her touch.

She was determined to satisfy him and had just resolved to unbutton his trousers when Lucien grunted a curse as his whole body stiffened.

It took her a moment to realize what had happened. Alex blinked and looked up, bewildered.

Lucien stepped back, looking absolutely mortified as he covered his face with his hands. “I—I’m sorry.”

He had spent in his trousers. He had wanted her so much that he couldn’t control himself. Alex supposed she should be disappointed, but she only felt a kind of power surging through her.

“Don’t apologize,” she murmured. “It’s fine.”

He let out a hoarse laugh and pulled a frustrated hand through his mussed hair. “It’s really not.”

“I’m told it can happen,” she began matter-of-factly. “Especially if one has not indulged in some time.” A straightforward approach seemed the best way to minimize his embarrassment.

But Lucien just scoffed. “Or never,” he muttered as he walked around the desk and fetched his satchel.

Alex stared after him, then cocked her head. No. He couldn’t possibly mean…

“You—are you saying you’re a virgin?”

“Try not to sound so surprised,” Lucien said sarcastically as he picked up his satchel.

“But, the earring,” she sputtered. “The tattoo. Paris .”

He shot her a challenging look. “Well? What of it?” Then he stilled as another thought seemed to occur to him. “Are you not a virgin?”

Alex lifted her chin. “No.” The idea that a woman could be ruined by the very same activity that men were applauded for had always irked her. She certainly didn’t shout it from the rooftops, but she wouldn’t be shamed by him either. “Does that bother you?”

Lucien stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. “It bothers you, though.”

“Nonsense,” Alex said firmly. “I’m just surprised.”

Lucien’s shoulders tightened. “Because of my age.”

“Well, no. You aren’t that old.”

“And yet, most men would have already bedded a dozen women.”

“I can’t speak to that figure,” Alex demurred, trying not to laugh as this was clearly a sensitive subject for him. “But I was under the impression that you had an affair with Madame Deveraux, your business partner’s paramour.”

Lucien’s mouth dropped open in shock. “How on earth did you hear about that?”

“I hired a private investigator based in Paris look into you,” Alex said simply. “Just like I would anyone I planned to partner with.”

“A private investigator?” Lucien stared at her hotly. “Don’t you think that was a touch excessive?”

Alex shrugged. “It’s good business.”

“But you could have just asked me.”

“I wouldn’t have known if you were telling me the truth.”

“Right,” he scoffed. “You had no choice but to invade my privacy because simply trusting me was out of the question,” Lucien bit off as he picked up his satchel. “It isn’t true, by the way. Though I suppose you’ve pieced that together yourself.”

“Lucien—”

“I can’t believe I ever thought you—” Then he paused.

“What?” Alex demanded as she came around the desk. “What were you going to say?”

“Never mind.”

She put her hands on her hips and stood right in from of him. “You might as well come out with it, since the truth is so important to you,” she added, failing to hide the sarcasm in her tone.

Lucien stared down at her, his eyes now black with anger. “You really are as heartless as everyone says,” he said with perfect clarity, then turned and stalked out of the room.

Alex had expected those words—it would have been a surprise if he had said anything else—and yet they still struck her chest like a weight. She slouched against her desk as Lucien’s angry footfalls receded down the hall. Until the only sound left was her own breaths. Until she was alone once again.

A few days later Lucien nearly tripped as he raced up the gleaming marble steps of The Bedivere Club.

London’s private gentlemen’s clubs had always felt even more absurdly out of reach than the parlors and ballrooms of Mayfair.

Yet here he was, entering one of the city’s most exclusive establishments.

Behind him a line of fine carriages waited out front and it was not lost on him that if fate had offered even a slightly different hand, he might have been among them. A coachman like his father.

You still could be if this doesn’t work out.

Lucien grimaced at the unwelcome reminder.

He needed to impress Benjamin Chisolm whether or not they decided to partner together.

He was respected enough that he could sink Lucien’s chances for finding alternative funding with only a few words.

And then even Alex’s support wouldn’t be able to save him.

If you still have it.

But Lucien dismissed the thought as he stepped into the small lobby. A beady-eyed man behind an imposing host’s stand gave him a dismissive once-over. “May I help you?” he asked in a tone that indicated the complete opposite.

Lucien knew he didn’t quite fit in here, with his non–Savile Row suit, hair in desperate need of a trim, and gold earring. But he was still the guest of a member. And in the end that was all that mattered. “Lucien Taylor to see Mr. Chisolm,” he replied, lifting his chin a little.

The host flicked a glance over an open book then arched his brow. “Wait here while I inform him of your arrival,” he said reluctantly.

Lucien let out a breath as the host disappeared behind a large oak door, leaving him blessedly alone for the moment.

A particularly lurid mural depicting the seduction of Leda by Zeus disguised as a swan took up most of one wall.

Lucien turned toward the large gilt-framed mirror hanging on the opposite wall and tried to calm his rattled nerves.

“You can do this,” he murmured to his reflection as he adjusted his already straight tie.

Then he opened his satchel and considered reading through his proposal one more time, though by this point he had the blasted thing memorized.

He forced himself to take a seat instead, but that left him with an excellent view of the mural.

Lucien pulled out the proposal and began mindlessly leafing through the pages.

He had been so incensed by Alex’s frank admission that he actually stormed out of her office without it.

That bloody woman seemed to think nothing of hiring someone to dig into his private life—and they hadn’t done a particularly good job if they couldn’t determine that the rumors of his affair with Madame Deveraux were just that.

Rumors. Rumors spread by Rene to cast blame on Lucien and distract from his own affair with the woman, along with his embezzling.

Lucien had always maintained his innocence, but the truth was no match for a delicious piece of gossip.

And certainly no one would believe that Lucien couldn’t possibly have bedded the woman because he was still a virgin .

But regardless of his anger over Alex’s actions, Lucien still needed to be prepared to explain why the Parisian supper club had disbanded so suddenly.

Chisolm would certainly ask. And he intended to be honest—about the embezzlement, at least.

The morning after his encounter with Alex, the proposal had been delivered to Alain’s flat along with a brief note:

Lucien,

Please accept my sincere apologies for last night. I never intended to upset you, but I suppose my intentions are irrelevant.

Here are my notes on your proposal. Best wishes on your meeting tomorrow.

Yours,

Alex

He had stared at that closing for far longer than he would ever admit.

Yours.

Had she meant it? Did she even comprehend what it meant to belong to someone?

It seemed like a wildly intimate gesture for a woman who barely bothered to acknowledge most people.

Even more so than touching his cock. He immediately began to read through her edits so as not to linger on that particular memory.

There weren’t as many as he anticipated, which was a relief.

But as he flipped through the pages, Lucien muttered a curse.

She was nothing short of brilliant. Her suggestions, though sparse, were so sharp and insightful that he felt like an absolute idiot for not writing it that way in the first place.

No wonder those employees left her office in near tears.

Lucien then swallowed his pride and incorporated all of her suggestions into his proposal. By the next morning his ego had recovered and he mostly felt a sense of gratitude toward Alex.

Mostly.

“Follow me, Mr. Taylor.”

The host’s command brought Lucien back to the moment. It was time.

He was led through the heavy oak door and down a dark hallway that opened into a surprisingly cavernous, wood-paneled room.

Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the late afternoon sunlight while a fire sedately crackled away in the massive fireplace topped with an ornate jade mantel.

Gentlemen turned out in impeccable suits that likely cost more than the investment Lucien was seeking were scattered about the room talking quietly or reading newspapers.

Nearly everyone had a drink in hand. Benjamin Chisolm was seated comfortably near the fire in a forest-green leather club chair but quickly rose once he’d spotted Lucien.

“Hello there!” He shook his hand. “So glad you could meet me here. Did you have any trouble finding the place?”

“Ah, no—”

“Excellent.” Chisolm addressed the host, who hovered behind them. “Baxter, get my friend a drink.” Then he turned to Lucien. “You’ll have one, won’t you?”

“Yes—”

“Whatever he wants,” Chisolm announced with a lordly wave of his hand.

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Good lad,” he said with a wink. “A whiskey for Mr. Taylor and another for me. Quickly now, Baxter.”

“Of course, sir.” The host scraped a bow and scurried off, but not before casting one last look of disapproval at Lucien.

“Sit, sit.” Chisolm gestured to the chair opposite his own. “I must say, I’m very excited to hear your proposal. I’ve mostly been involved in industrial endeavors. But the future is entertainment, or so I’m told. Especially for the middle classes, now that they have a bit of extra money to spend.”

Lucien nodded. “Yes, that is one of the groups I hope to aim for.” Indeed, that was what had made the club such a success in Paris. It was designed to be accessible to more than only the very wealthy. “When the artists started coming, that was when things really took off.”

Chisolm grinned. “I love it. You must have enjoyed some raucous nights with that crowd, I imagine,” he added, waggling his eyebrows.

Lucien managed a smile. “A few.” He hadn’t expected such a blunt comment during a business meeting. “But for me it was work, you know. I never forgot that.”

Some of his clients treated his stoic refusal to participate in the festivities as a kind of game and took turns dangling all sorts of temptations before him: liquor, women—men. But Lucien never broke. Though he had desperately wanted to a time or two.

Chisolm gave him a sly look. “Of course. Work .”

Before the man could press him further, their drinks arrived. Chisolm made a toast and then gestured to Lucien. “All right. Let’s hear it.”

As Lucien launched into his little spiel, Chisolm asked him a number of pointed questions. He had come prepared. Luckily, so had Lucien. They spent close to an hour discussing his vision for the business and what he would need to get it started before Chisolm settled back in his chair.

“You’ve given me much to think about, Taylor. Now we can get down to the real business,” he said. “Are the rumors true, then? That you’re courting Alex—I mean, Miss Atkinson,” Chisolm finished with a sheepish grin that Lucien didn’t believe for a second.

“Yes. I am.”

Chisolm nodded sagely. “Good. Poor girl’s a waste sitting on the shelf. Someone should be able to enjoy those charms of hers,” he added quietly before taking a sip.

Lucien narrowed his eyes. Chisolm sounded awfully certain about that. “And yet, you turned her down.”

He let out a dry laugh. “Well, not at first. But then I found that we weren’t…” He paused, as if searching for the right word. “Compatible.”

Did this man really have the audacity to make such an insinuation? Lucien recalled Alex lifting her chin and boldly pronouncing her lack of virginity. Chisolm had to have been her partner. And the bastard looked damned proud of it.

“I beg your pardon,” Lucien demanded. Despite his lingering anger over Alex’s invasion of his privacy, he very much wanted to punch this man in his smug face.

“Don’t tell me I’ve shocked you,” Chisolm said with genuine surprise. “I took you for a man of the world. And you certainly know Miss Atkinson can fend for herself. No one could coerce her into doing anything she didn’t want to do.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened even while he privately acknowledged this. “Nevertheless, I trust you don’t make it a habit of discussing this with people.”

Chisolm had the decency to look chastened. “No, of course not.”

“Let’s move on, then.”

The man seemed all too happy to oblige, and as they discussed how Paris compared to London, their conversation moved along with much of its earlier breeziness.

But in Lucien’s case it was all for show.

He left a short while later determined that under no circumstances would he partner with that man. Ever.