Lucien stepped back, inclining his head briefly. “I’ll have someone pick her up tomorrow. And I won’t be staying for dinner, it’s no longer necessary.”
Then he was gone, the door swinging in his wake. I sat frozen for a brief moment, my heart thudding, and then I jumped to my feet. Ignoring my father’s glare, I ran down the hall after him and burst through the front door. A chilly wind had set in since we’d been inside and the sky was thick with storm clouds.
He sat in the sports car parked in the driveway and when he saw me he narrowed his eyes and turned the engine off. I scrambled across the pavement, my arms wrapping around my body to fend off the cool wind, and leaned against the side of his topless car.
“What’s wrong?” he said briskly.
“Why did you do that?” I panted. “How do you know I even want to live with you anyway?”
“Given the choice between being slapped and starved and living with your fiancé, I assumed you’d choose the latter. Am I wrong?”
Ice bored into me from beneath his heavy lids. His arm rested on his steering wheel, his hand hanging. The graceful curve of his square, masculine hand caught my attention and that familiar shiver went through me. Someday soon this man would put those hands on my body and he would give me pain or pleasure. Or perhaps both.
Thunder clapped in the distance and I looked up at the side yard and saw a wall of rain advancing over the hills. Lucien stood in his seat and pulled the top of his car up and slid it into place just as the storm hit with vengeance. Large, cold droplets spattered over me, soaking me to the skin in seconds.
The passenger door opened and Lucien leaned over, beckoning me to get in the car. I hesitated, water streaming down my face, before sliding inside. The seats were buttery soft against my thighs and the leather interior smelled of cool pine. I turned and my heart flipped as I took in Lucien, so close I could feel his body heat and smell his clean scent.
I hadn’t noticed before that his lashes were soft and dark around his hazel eyes. And I hadn’t noticed how his throat, broad and tanned, had a vein that pulsed beneath his skin, leading my eyes down to the skin between his collarbones. A wild urge to reach out and touch it, to trace a line beneath the collar of his shirt, hit me and I looked away, hoping he couldn’t guess my thoughts.
“You’re soaked,” he said.
“I hadn’t noticed,” I said.
“Cut that out,” he said, his eyes fixed on the blinding rain spattering across the windshield, blocking anyone who might try to look inside the car.
“What?”
“I know you want some control, Olivia, but you have to respect me. You can’t speak to me like that,” he said calmly. “I expect you to be obedient and respectful when we’re around others and if you have a snarky comment, save it.”
“So you’re telling me to be good wife who never gets to express her thoughts?” I cringed inwardly at my tone, knowing I was pushing it.
“You’re being combative for no reason. I expect us to have a united front as a couple. If you have a grievance with me, take it back to our bedroom and we can resolve it there. In private.”
Our bedroom. The words threw me off guard. I looked up at this man, collected and icy, and yet so powerfully masculine and undeniably attractive. My mind kept going back to the knowledge that I would have to face him on our wedding night. That he would take my virginity and we would sleep beside one another and wake up as husband and wife.
“What are you thinking?” he said.
I swallowed and looked out the window at the pounding raindrops. “Can I be honest?”
“I expect you to tell me only the truth.”
“I’m wondering how it can be that we’ve never spoken before today and yet, in months, we’ll be married. And then we’re supposed to just live together and…you know.”
His mouth twitched. “Are you talking about sex?”
I felt a hot flush creep up my throat and over my cheeks. “We don’t love each other, so I don’t understand how that sort of thing is going to work.”
I could tell he was amused, but he kept his face impassive. His jaw worked as he considered what I’d said and then he gave a short sigh.
“There’s nothing about sex that requires love.”
The way he said it caught me off guard. There was so much detachment in his tone, bordering on glacial, but somehow completely without malice. I studied him for a long moment, my heart thumping irregularly, uncomfortable with discussing such a private thing with him.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
I dipped my head, subdued by his words. I’d never thought deeply about what our life would look like beyond our marriage and wedding night, but a small part of me had assumed that we would work towards love. But from how Lucien was talking now, it seemed like he didn’t have any interest in love, or even affection.
“I’m fine, I just was thinking,” I said quietly.