Chapter 9

Elena had expected Lucien to take her somewhere intimidating. A private dining room in an expensive hotel, perhaps, or one of those restaurants where everyone spoke in low voices and the waiters looked as though they had been trained never to blink. Instead, twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of a small Italian restaurant tucked between two older buildings on a quiet street. There was no line of expensive cars outside, no photographers, and no obvious security. Elena looked through the window at the warm lights inside and then at Lucien, who was already opening his door.

"This is it?"

Lucien glanced at her. "Were you expecting a palace?"

"Considering your reputation, yes."

"My reputation has nothing to do with where I eat."

"That's disappointing."

"You've known me for three days and you're already disappointed in me?"

"I've had a difficult week. Let me have this."

He gave her a look that made the corner of her mouth lift.

"Come on."

She followed him inside.

The restaurant wasn't empty, but it was quiet enough that Elena immediately noticed when the owner hurried over to greet Lucien. The older man shook his hand warmly, said something in Italian that she didn't understand, and then led them to a secluded table near the back.

Elena waited until they were seated before looking at Lucien.

"So you actually have friends."

"I didn't say that."

"The owner hugged you."

"He likes me."

"That's practically friendship."

"Don't tell him. He'll get ideas."

She laughed.

The waiter arrived with menus, but Lucien barely glanced at his.

"Bring her whatever she wants."

Elena looked at him. "Excuse me?"

"You've been staring at the menu for thirty seconds."

"I was reading."

"You're hungry."

"You don't know that."

"I know you skipped breakfast."

She lowered the menu slowly.

"How do you know that?"

"You ordered coffee when you came to my office yesterday and didn't touch the pastries."

"You remember what I eat?"

"I remember details."

"That's slightly creepy."

"You're welcome."

Elena tried not to smile.

"Fine. I'll choose."

"Good."

She opened the menu again.

For the next few minutes, they actually discussed food. It was strangely normal. Lucien argued that she was choosing too much, Elena insisted that he was simply cheap, and he informed her that the restaurant charged by the dish rather than by the number of women trying to impress him. By the time the waiter left, Elena had forgotten that she was sitting across from one of the most feared men in the city.

Then she remembered.

"You know," she said, resting her chin on her hand, "this is probably the strangest lunch I've ever had."

"Why?"

"Yesterday I was sleeping in a hotel room because my husband threw me out. Today I'm sitting in a restaurant with a man whose name people lower their voices to mention."

"That sounds dramatic."

"It is."

"You'll get used to it."

"I don't think I want to."

Lucien looked at her for a moment.

"Neither do I."

Something about the answer made her pause.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

"No. You said that too quickly."

"You've become very persistent."

"I've always been persistent."

"I noticed."

She leaned forward. "Then answer me."

Lucien sighed.

"You want to know why I brought you here?"

"Yes."

"Because you haven't had a normal meal since this started."

Elena blinked.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"You could have said that."

"I just did."

She looked down at the table.

Nobody had asked whether she had eaten since she left Adrian.

Her father hadn't.

Her friends hadn't.

Adrian certainly hadn't.

Lucien had noticed.

It shouldn't have mattered.

It did.

She tried to hide the emotion creeping into her expression by reaching for her glass.

"Thank you."

Lucien nodded.

Then, after a moment, he said, "You don't have to thank me every time I do something decent."

"Why not?"

"Because I'll start expecting it."

She smiled.

"You're impossible."

"So you've said."

Their food arrived, and for a while they ate without discussing Adrian or Vantage Meridian. Elena found herself telling Lucien about things she hadn't intended to mention: how she hated overly sweet coffee, how she had once ruined an expensive dress trying to cook dinner for Adrian, how her father had laughed for an entire week when she accidentally called an important investor by the wrong name during her first business meeting.

Lucien listened.

Actually listened.

He didn't interrupt to tell her how she should have behaved. He didn't turn the conversation back toward business. He simply listened, occasionally asking questions that made her realize he had remembered something she'd said several minutes earlier.

Eventually Elena caught herself.

"You haven't told me anything."

Lucien raised an eyebrow.

"About?"

"Yourself."

"I answered your question earlier."

"One question."

"That's enough."

"No, it isn't."

"You've talked enough for both of us."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you saying I talk too much?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you smiling?"

His expression changed.

"I am not."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"Lucien."

"What?"

"You are."

He looked away.

Elena laughed.

"I knew it."

"You've become very pleased with yourself."

"I rarely get to win arguments with you."

"You haven't won anything."

"I just made you smile."

That made him look back at her.

The amusement in his eyes disappeared.

For a second, the space between them seemed to shrink.

Elena's smile faded too.

Lucien's voice was quieter when he spoke.

"You do that often."

"Do what?"

"Make people forget you're hurt."

Her fingers tightened around her fork.

"I'm not hiding anything."

"I didn't say you were."

"You keep looking at me like you know things I don't."

"Maybe I do."

"Then tell me."

He was silent.

Elena waited.

Finally, he said, "You don't have to prove that you're strong every second."

Her chest tightened.

"Who says I'm trying to?"

"I do."

She looked away.

"Maybe I don't have a choice."

"You do."

"No, I don't."

Lucien leaned back.

"Everyone keeps telling me I should be strong. My father wants me to fight. My lawyers want me to fight. Adrian wants me to disappear. Vivian probably wants me to crawl under a rock and die so she can wear my wedding ring without feeling guilty. And now you're telling me I don't have to prove anything."

"I am."

"Why?"

His answer came quietly.

"Because I don't think you're weak."

Elena looked at him.

"Then what do you think I am?"

Lucien held her gaze.

"Angry."

She smiled faintly.

"You've said that before."

"Because it's still true."

"And what if I don't want to be angry anymore?"

"Then stop giving them reasons to control how you feel."

Elena stared at him.

There was no grand speech. No promise to destroy Adrian. No dramatic declaration that he would protect her.

Just those words.

And somehow they stayed with her.

When they finished eating, Elena reached for her handbag.

"I should go."

Lucien looked at his watch.

"You're leaving already?"

"You have somewhere to be."

"I canceled it."

She looked at him.

"You canceled a meeting?"

"Yes."

"Because of me?"

"No."

She smiled knowingly.

"You're lying again."

"I've told you before. I don't lie."

"You really need to stop saying that."

He stood.

Outside, the evening air was cooler than Elena expected. She wrapped her arms around herself as they walked toward the car.

Lucien noticed.

Without saying anything, he removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders.

Elena stopped.

"You'll be cold."

"I'm fine."

She looked down at the jacket around her.

It smelled like him.

She looked back up.

"Thank you."

Lucien opened the car door.

"You're welcome."

She hesitated before getting inside.

"Lucien?"

He looked at her.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

His expression became unreadable.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"Maybe you're just not used to being treated properly."

The words struck deeper than he could have known.

Elena stared at him.

He closed the door gently.

As the car pulled away, she looked through the window and watched him disappear behind her.

For the first time since Adrian had betrayed her, Elena caught herself thinking something she wasn't ready to admit.

Maybe she had not lost everything.

Maybe she had simply lost the wrong man.