The next morning, I woke to my curtains being thrown ajar and I sat up, rubbing my eyes at the unexpected light. My mother stood there, a white paper bag in her hand. She was already dressed in a pencil dress and her hair was tied up at the nape of her neck without a strand out of place.
“Get dressed,” she said. “Lucien called earlier and said he’d send someone at noon to pick you up.”
I blinked, still sleepy, and obeyed. “What time is it?”
“Almost ten. You slept late.” Her tone was short, but she wasn’t nearly as angry as I’d expected her to be. “I brought your birth control refill and I set up for the doctor to send it to you, at Lucien’s, for a while. At least until you’ve gotten the wedding over with. That way you won’t have to worry about it until later.”
I stared at her. She rarely did anything without an ulterior motive and every alarm was going off in my head. I kept quiet as she took the pink purse where she kept my birth control out of the bag and passed it to me.
“Make sure to do as Lucien says,” she said. “And don’t talk back to him.”
Then she was gone, her perfect heels tapping down the hall until the sound died out. I went into the bathroom and took the package from the bag and frowned. The pills were larger this time and they were in different packaging. Perhaps my mother had had the doctor change my prescription without bothering to tell me. Nothing would surprise me.
I took one out and laid it on my tongue and swallowed it dry. I’d forgotten to take it for the last few days, but knowing I would be going to Lucien’s mansion, I should probably start being more careful. Perhaps he would do the honorable thing and not touch me before the wedding, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He was a made man after all.
An image of Lucien’s mouth, open and hot against the flesh of my throat, burst into my mind and I shivered. He was sexy, there was no denying that, even with all the passionless ice behind his eyes. Perhaps he was right, perhaps sex with him could be good. He did have a impressive body that looked incredible in his suits.
Perhaps the heat that now rose between my thighs would be enough to make our marriage good.
My two small suitcases were lined up by the door. I’d packed everything sentimental to me in a single case last night before bed. I’d cried quietly as I did, never having realized how few sentimental items I owned. There was only a few DVDs from my childhood, some jewelry my cousin had given me, and a photo of my brother and I at one of his soccer games years ago.
My brother wasn’t home yet. Most likely my parents hadn’t thought to tell him I was leaving and he had no idea what was going on. I sat down on the edge of my bed, my stomach hollowed out, my heart throbbing with lingering sadness.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible in Lucien’s house. Perhaps he would be kind, or even gentle, and I could finally live without fear.
I didn’t leave my room for the rest of the morning. I didn’t want to have to face my parents and pretend to be sad that I was leaving. They didn’t seem to care because no one else knocked on my door or called for me to come downstairs.
Five minutes past noon, I heard the sound of a car coming up the drive. I stood and brushed my shirt off and adjusted the legs of my jeans. Then I leaned over and checked myself in the mirror, fluffing my thin bangs and twisting the longer bits that hung before my ears. The rest of my dark hair hung down my back in a curled ponytail. Then I pulled on a white sweater and padded down the hall, dragging my luggage behind me.
Neither my mother nor my father appeared as I moved down the hall. A pang went through me as I stood by the door, soaking in my last moments in my childhood home. It hadn’t been a happy nineteen years. I left the house and let the door swing shut behind me as I walked down the stairs.
The car door opened and Lucien rose in a graceful movement. I paused, surprised to see him. I’d expected a valet or a bodyguard to pick me up. Instead it was the underboss himself, dressed smartly in dark dress pants and a matching shirt, an expensive watch glittering at his wrist.
“Where are your parents?” he said, frowning.
I opened my mouth and coughed to clear my throat. “I don’t know.”
His mouth pressed together, but he said nothing as he took my suitcases and opened the passenger door. I slid into the SUV and watched him circle the car and get in beside me. He was as relaxed and impassive as he’d been yesterday and it was impossible to tell what he was feeling.
“I thought you were sending someone to pick me up,” I said.
“I prefer to handle my own business when possible.”
We pulled out onto the road and I turned around to watch the house disappear into the distance. My chest was empty of anything save fluttering nerves and I was almost glad when it was gone from sight.
“Would you like anything?” he asked.
I turned, unsure what he meant. “What?”
“Would you like to stop for anything? A coffee? Lunch?” He turned his flat gaze on me for a moment before flicking it back to the road.
“Coffee would be amazing,” I said.
It was strange to be asked what I wanted. Lucien pulled onto the highway and we drove for a while in silence. I dared to look over at him once and my attention was captured by a muscle working in his jaw as if he were grinding his teeth.
We stopped at a small coffee shop as soon as we reached the city. I waited in the car while Lucien walked casually inside and returned with two cups. I’d never met a made man who had the confidence to walk about like that without protection. I accepted my coffee from him, breathing in the scent of caramel and espresso. My mother never let me get sweetener in my coffee and just the smell of it had me almost melting.
I curled up in the seat, pulling my sweater closer, and sipped at the sweet foam. Lucien had black coffee, which he drank slowly. He had a way of drinking that fascinated me—a swallow and then a tensing of his jaw and tightening of his lips as he did. It was oddly sexy, watching his mouth and jaw move like that.