Anger pools in my stomach. “How dare you,” I say, my words sharp.
Lucian glances up and is seemingly unaffected by my entrance. His face remains expressionless as he sips from his mug. “Ah, sweetheart, I wondered when you would finally grace us with your presence.”
“Sweetheart?” My voice rises an octave.
The man at the table turns, and I recognise him immediately from the papers as Lucian’s older brother, Malachi Calloway. His hair is as black as the night sky, and when touched by natural light, flecks of midnight blue appear throughout. He offers a tight-lipped smile, a neatly cut beard framing his angular jaw.
There is a harshness in his dark gaze that makes me feel uneasy. He possesses an aura and a coldness that demands respect. “Nice to finally meet you, Chelsea. I believe a celebratory drink is in order.”
“A celebratory drink?” I’m waiting for the punchline.
Chair legs squeak against the wooden floorboards as Lucian gets to his feet and makes his way toward me. “Come.” He grips my arm and I attempt to pull myself free, though his grip is firm. Without a word he walks me into the hallway and toward a nearby room. Once we’re inside he closes the door behind us.
“Let me explain—” he begins, but I don’t allow him to finish. I reel back and slap his cheek.
“Bastard. You kidnapped me!” I hiss.
A red handprint mars Lucian’s perfect face. He does nothing to acknowledge the blow and instead folds his arms in front of his chest. “I did not kidnap you.”
“Liar.” I raise my hand again, about to slap him for a second time when Lucian catches my wrist in mid-flight.
“I will let you have the first one. But if you strike me again, so help me God, I will throw you over my knee and grace your milky white behind with a red handprint of my own. Do I make myself clear?”
His words are firm and authoritative. Though his eyes, his eyes are daring me to defy him. I sigh heavily. “Where am I?”
“In my Surrey estate.”
My mouth dries instantly. “Surrey? As in Surrey near London?”
“That is correct.”
“But that’s…” I begin, but fall silent for a beat. “That’s a four-hour drive from Heller St Claire.”
“Four and a half hours, to be precise.”
I can’t help wondering what time we arrived. No wonder I slept in. Lucian walks around the room, which I see is a home office. He perches on a large desk and motions for me to sit in the swivel chair. I don’t move, not so much as an inch. I place my hand on my hip and tap my foot against the floor. “Why are we here?”
“I’m here because I have a few prior engagements pencilled in that require me to be in the City.” Lucian looks me up and down before continuing. “You are here because you asked to come back with me, practically begged.”
I laugh. “I would never…”
“Let me finish.” His tone is sharp, and I immediately stop talking.
“You said you didn’t want to be alone. I couldn’t very well stay in your flat with you. It would have been highly inappropriate to share a bed given the state you were in, and I didn’t fancy sleeping on the sofa. You coming home with me was the only logical thing to do. You had no objections and came of your own free will.”
“I was drunk, you tool.”
“Yes. Very much so. Another reason why you shouldn’t have been left alone. I had my female staff members check on you on the hour. Just to make sure that you hadn’t choked on your own vomit.”
“How thoughtful of you,” I deadpan.
Lucian nods. “Yes, I thought so too.”
A wicked smile tugs at Lucian’s lips. I lower my hand to my side, realising that I may have overreacted. “Thank you,” I mumble.
Lucian holds his hand to his ear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”
“I said thank you,” I say, loud enough that he can hear.