Sacrifice (The Venus Chronicles #1)

Chapter 19

Nineteen

Enormous excitement gave way to blind panic.

Lucien had rather casually suggested that she throw a few things into an overnight bag. ‘Something for business and something for pleasure,’ he’d said offhandedly. She was almost certain she’d detected a wink in his voice, and she squirmed with delight at the thought of it.

At the time, it had seemed like such a simple request, but now, as she faced her open wardrobe, it was perfectly obvious she had nothing to wear.

Eve flicked through the loaded hangers in desperation. Business attire was not something she’d had much use for and the options were limited to a ‘smart’ pair of navy trousers she suspected might once have been school uniform, and a skirt suit she’d bought for interviews post-Uni. She yanked it out and held it against herself to look in the mirror.

It hadn’t seen much action, so it was still in good condition and the skirt was a bit short, but it looked like the best bet. She tossed it to her bed and threw a plain white shirt on top. That was as good as it was going to get.

Now pleasure. Pleasure was a tricky one, too. Were we talking about sight-seeing comfortable shoes and hoodie type pleasure? Or the kind that involved a fancy dinner in heels? She had no idea what Lucien was planning or how close they might get. She yanked open her underwear draw to rifle through it. Anything vaguely grey or frumpy was a definite no go.

Selections made, she crammed everything into a hold-all and settled down for a fitful night’s sleep.

The next morning, the suit and heels weren’t quite as comfortable as remembered. After so much time spent in jeans and t-shirts, business attire felt restricting. It made Eve hold herself differently, much more stiffly. But that upright posture brought unexpected consequences. It brought about in Eve a certain confidence. Sliding into Lucien’s limo, she felt positively executive and climbing the steps to his jet, like she was having an out-of-body experience.

She grinned inwardly. Could this job actually get any better? It was becoming surreal.

His private jet, LK1 was a dream of luxury. All gleaming surfaces and soft leather, it was spacious inside beyond all expectation.

Lucien shucked off his jacket for the hostess and directed her to a pair of seats on either side of a table. Others lodged in a convivial curve. There was even a sofa. Eve scanned around the plane, amazed.

“Unless you’d prefer somewhere else?”

“No, this is fine.” She smiled and shook her head. ‘Fine’ was the understatement of the century.

She unbuttoned her jacket and gave it to the hostess, too.

“Welcome on board. Can I get you a drink, Mr Knight?”

“Champagne, please Cecile.”

“And for you, Miss Areli?”

“Seems rude not to,” said Eve. She shuffled awkwardly into her seat.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” said Lucien, “Relax. It’s just us.”

His voice was a soft purr that made it very difficult for Eve to relax. Quite the contrary. Being so close to Lucien made her senses prick up. His very proximity raised goosebumps on her arms. She sank into her seat, grateful for Lucien’s choice of seating. Being on either side of a table provided camouflage for the too short skirt she was starting to regret. It rode uncontrollably up her thigh. Lucien settled in opposite, folding back his shirt sleeves to reveal tanned and muscular forearms. Energy fizzed over Eve’s skin. She was going to have to get a grip on herself.

“Here’s to a successful trip,” Lucien said, lifting his newly delivered flute.

“To success,” Eve echoed and chinked her glass against his. She took a sip. The champagne was dry and light. “Not how I was expecting my Friday morning to pan out. Thank you.”

Lucien nodded his acceptance.

“Not a bad ride you’ve got here.” She looked around with undisguised incredulity. “Little did I know when I chucked my coffee all over you it was probably Gucci I was ruining.”

Lucien shrugged. “It wasn’t a favorite.”

Eve looked horrified. “Oh god, it was.”

“Expensive things are still just things. Everything becomes normal after a while.”

She supposed that was true, but still. She took another sip. “This is lovely.”

“Perhaps if you drink it all, you might relax. Come on.” He sank his own in one swallow and watched her expectantly.

“Ha. Right.” Eve did the same and had to wipe a little overflow from the corner of her mouth. She cringed.

“I make you nervous,” Lucien stated baldly.

Truth was, Lucien gave Eve the impression that he was preparing to devour her.

“Don’t worry, I won’t eat you,” he said, a bit too close to the bone, and waved at Cecile, who came over to refill their glasses.

Eve blinked at him in surprise, took another sip from her refilled glass, and a deep breath. “A bit out of my comfort zone,” she said.

Lucien tipped his head in acknowledgement. “Where is that, your comfort zone? Tell me about Eve.”

Oh good, a spotlight.

Eve shrugged. “Oh, well, nothing quite so grand as what you’re used to.”

He narrowed his eyes in a smile.

Eve dropped her shoulders a little. “Oh alright. Eve Esther Areli, only child of Diane and Harry Areli, and resident of 25 Garfield Terrance, Southwark. But you know that.”

Lucien nodded his head. His limo had visited her home address a couple of times now. “Something a little more revealing?”

Eve pulled at the rising hem of her skirt. It was like it had a life of its own. “Well, I’ve always been a bit of a history buff. Gran’s family come from the middle east and she used to take me to the British Museum to see the exhibits when I was a little kid. She really brought it to life, you know? It used to feel like we were visiting family. Funny really.” Eve smiled to herself. “School friends used to think it was odd to be so interested in history, geeky.” She shrugged, “but it just came naturally.”

“I understand entirely,” said Lucien.

“You got your love of it from grandparents, too?”

Lucien shrugged. “Certainly, the many intricacies of the gods and belief systems have surrounded me my whole life.”

“Your father…”

Lucien eyed her quizzically.

“Wikipedia...”

He smiled, sank his drink, and waved a hand at Eve’s, suggesting she do the same.

She sank it. “We’ll be hammered by the time we get there at this rate.”

He waved over the hostess. “One can but hope.”

The next half hour passed in an increasingly relaxed back and forth as the champagne was consumed and Eve regaled Lucien with the story of her life.

“Time off school became a regular thing after that,” Eve said with a shrug. She’d been relating the tale of the childhood headaches that had kicked in with a vengeance at puberty. “The doctors never could pin down the cause, so days spent in darkened rooms every month or so became normal. They blamed hormones, but somehow, I never really believed that.”

She glanced out of the window to assess the gathering storm clouds on the horizon. “Maybe it’s a coincidence, but I’m convinced the weather’s got something to do with it. High pressure, or low pressure. I don’t know. Something.”

Lucien passed a fingertip distractedly back and forth over the bow of his top lip, and Eve’s eyes fell to follow it. “That is fascinating,” he said, and Eve huffed out a laugh.

“You’re making fun of me.”

“Not at all. Sympathy with the weather is the hallmark of a goddess.”

“You are making fun of me.”

“Actually, our little exhibition touches upon just that.”

“ Actually, I know.” Eve’s mind summoned up the books she had borrowed from Henry, “Ishtar liked to wield a storm to punish enemies. I’ve been reading up.”

“Excellent,” said Lucien, “That will help.” He reached across the table to touch her arm. The fizz of energy that rushed across her skin made Eve jump. “Us running into each other was fate, Miss Areli. I think you are a perfect complement to my ambitions. We will do great things, you and I.”

He held his flute up in invitation.

“Cheers to that,” Eve said and tapped her own glass against his with a ching.