“I’m Lucian Patras, hotel tycoon and seasoned entrepreneur. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Keats. Now that everyone’s been introduced, I’d like to eat.”
No. It couldn’t be. No.
He sighed and crossed his arms over his broad chest. His strong build was evident even covered by the silk of his dress shirt.
“What’s the problem, Evelyn?”
“I—I don’t . . . understand. You own the hotel?”
“Correct.”
“Are you firing me?”
He laughed. “Why would I fire you?”
“Because of yesterday.”
All humor fled his expression. “You told me it was an accident, that you weren’t rummaging through my personal papers. Did you lie to me, Evelyn?”
“No.” Her jaw trembled. What was happening here?
“Then you have nothing to worry about so long as you never lie to me.” He paused and looked over her clothing. “Your shoes are too big.”
Scout awkwardly tried to hide her feet from his view. “I don’t understand what’s happening here, Mr. Patras.”
“Lucian.”
“I can’t call you that.”
“Why not? I have no problem calling you Evelyn.”
“No one calls me that.”
“Scout’s no name for a beautiful woman.”
His words made her incredibly uncomfortable. Her brain ran out of things to say. Lucian Patras was a man of great determination and she found his presence exhaustingly challenging. He was breaking her down, but she wasn’t sure why. Her hunger had become more than the unending nagging ache it always was, and she was suddenly very weary.
He narrowed his eyes at her then reached for the phone. She stood silently as he dialed.
“Ms. Jones, Lucian Patras. Evelyn Keats is finished for the day. She’ll be back in the morning. Please make sure she’s paid for the rest of the afternoon.” He waited a moment. “Very good.” The phone returned to the cradle with a light click.
Chapter 4
In Good Company
“Sit down, Evelyn. We’re going to eat and then we’re going to talk.”
Her body slowly lowered to the settee. Lucian pulled her plate closer to him and made quick work of slicing her meat. Once the white meat was stacked in neat little bite-size pieces, he slid it closer to her and handed her a fork.
“Eat.”
The silverware was cool and heavy. She slowly stabbed a piece of food and placed it in her mouth. She wanted to say she was too shocked to process the flavor, but that would be a lie. It was perhaps the most divine thing she’d ever tasted.
They ate in silence. The beans were so fresh and flavorful Scout could’ve cried. The potatoes were unlike anything she’d ever tasted before, crisp yet fluffy, nothing like the bulbous, mushy spuds they served at the shelter. She wanted to bring some back for Parker to taste, but that would be impossible.
As her mouth closed over the last bit of food, embarrassment had her blood rising. Lucian still had quite a bit of food on his plate. With a trembling hand she placed her fork on the edge of her plate like he had done. The touch of heavy silver to the delicate china seemed all too loud and uncultured to her ears.
“Thank you. That was amazing.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Do you like working at Patras Hotel, Evelyn?”
Her limbs trembled, knowing what was coming. He’d lied. He did plan on firing her.
“Yes, sir.”
“Where did you work before you took this job?”
Her fingers nervously wrung her napkin in her hands and she looked at her lap. “I was a waitress for a while.”
“And before that?”
“I worked at a car wash and answered phones for a mechanic.”
He nodded and eased his body back against the back of the settee. “A jack of all trades.”
“And a master of none,” she said dryly.
He chuckled. It was deep and rumbled from within his chest. “Not everyone is intended to be a master, Ms. Keats. Why did you leave your previous jobs?”
“I lost my waitressing job when my register came up short.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How short?”
“Three hundred seventy-six dollars.”
“Did you take the money?”
“No. I don’t steal.”
“Good. And the job at the mechanic’s?”
“I was young. It was me working with three men. I didn’t like going there after a while.”
“Why?”
She glared up at him. He only met her challenge with endless patience in his stare. Her shoulders lowered.
“The youngest mechanic was the owner’s nephew. He used to wait for me outside of the bathroom and try to make me . . . pay a toll before he’d let me go back to the front office.”
His jaw ticked and she sympathized with anyone who came face-to-face with Mr. Patras in business. He had a menacing presence when he wanted to show one.
“Did you pay the toll?”
“No,” she said clearly. “I broke his nose.”
He laughed long and hard and she found herself laughing too, perhaps a bit out of nervousness.
“I like you, Evelyn. You’re a lot feistier than you first come off.”
His compliment made her oddly proud. Their laughter faded and her lips twitched, wanting to keep the moment going, but she had no more to add.