Chapter 9
Laurent
Her scent infiltrated my space—and for once, it didn’t infuriate me.
Over the past few weeks, I’d grown to… appreciate my ex-PA.
Allison was competent—efficient, even. But she didn’t jump when I barked.
She didn’t blush when I passed by. Lucia’s little startled flinches and that wide-eyed innocence had become my addiction.
Habits that once grated on me were now endearing.
Memory had twisted them into something sweeter.
Something I missed.
I side-eyed the person of my obsession as she gulped down the water so fast that rivulets trickled down the side of her mouth.
I looked away—before they travelled down her neck—only to meet Garrett’s smug face in the rearview mirror.
Fuck him.
He knew.
He knew all about me combing Lucia’s social media, trying to see if she’d ever dated women.
He knew—because it was his suggestion.
I grabbed a few tissues from the holder and passed them to Lucia.
“Thank you,” she said, a little breathless as she took them.
She dabbed at her lips, her jaw, then the slender curve of her neck.
It was a pity the armrest was between us.
I didn’t want anything between us.
But I knew I had to be patient.
?? ?? ??
She wore a navy trouser suit, and the jacket was just short enough to give me a perfect look at her ass.
Behind me, Garrett smothered a laugh with a cough as she began to ascend.
I turned to flip him off, then quickly followed.
The ride to the airport had been quiet but comfortable.
I felt her little glances every now and then.
I didn’t give them too much thought.
I was busy recalculating her likely ovulation window based on a post she’d made three months ago. It wasn't great since I had to use the average cycle, but it was the best I could do with the tools I had.
The stewardess smiled and welcomed us aboard. Lucia returned the greeting, while I nodded and passed her. Garrett’s burly ass followed us in, but he’d sit closer to the door—giving me some privacy with Lucia.
She stood in the aisle, waiting for my instruction.
I smiled.
She frowned and glanced behind me at Garrett. Her expression turned inquisitive… then suspicious. Her eyebrow lifted slightly.
I cleared my throat.
“Sit down, Ms Hart. We don’t have all day.”
Relief visibly softened her posture. She nodded and took a seat at the table. The relief didn’t last long when I sat directly across from her. It made me briefly consider how my prior behaviour might have been perceived.
I didn’t dwell on it.
That was in the past.
She stared at every fixture and fitting in my plane. In fact, she looked everywhere but at me.
The stewardess approached, but I kept my eyes on Lucia.
“Hello, would either of you like a drink?”
“No, thank you,” Lucia said, offering her a polite smile.
“Scotch on the rocks,” I replied. Then, turning to Lucia, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a drink?”
“Um… no thanks. I’m not much of a drinker.”
Mm. Yet she was in the Bloodhound every Friday night, breast-smushing her colleagues like some cheerful little party slut. Sure.
I’d make sure she left her inhibitions at the door.
My scheme was flawless.
Four days.
Four nights.
My suite.
My rules.
She didn’t know what she was walking into.
Not yet.
But she would.
By the end of the weekend, she won’t just want it—she’d beg for it.
For the weight of my body.
The bite of my command.
The sting of my hand if she’s bratty enough.
I’d pin those trembling hands above her head and make her look me in the eye when she came all over my dick.
Make her admit she was made for it.
For me.
I’d waited while she left.
And still, every damn day, I woke up harder than stone, thinking about how she’d taste.
How she’d sound.
How she’d look, pinned beneath me, full of me—stuffed so deep she wouldn’t be able to walk straight for days.
And by the time we returned to London?
She’d be mine.
The way she was always meant to be.
Dripping, panting and wrecked, but begging for more.
The stewardess placed my drink on the table, but I never looked away from Lucia. Not when my sexy little slut sat in front of me. It was open season and I was more than ready to hunt.
I forced myself to lean back and lift my glass.
One drink. Then I’d start the game.
?? ?? ??
“How are you finding working with the board of directors?” I asked, pushing my glass aside.
“Enlightening,” she said, toying with the edge of her phone.
“How so?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“You set the vision alongside the chairman and lead director until it filters through the board into action. It’s good to see another aspect of how the company works. Smooth and fierce.”
Not just a pretty face.
“And how’s Monica to work with?”
She tilted her head, that damn brow lifting. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Sure.”
“She works hard. But she’s fair.”
Fair.
The word settled between us, heavier than it should have.
So that’s what fair looked like. That’s what she preferred.
A woman in power who followed the rules. Who didn’t raise her voice. Monica didn’t have the weight of the company’s future on her shoulders.
I leaned back slightly, letting the silence stretch.
She stared down at her phone, and I wondered who she was messaging.
“Who are you texting?”
“I’m emailing the girls at work. Some of them are throwing a party because you’re gone,” she said with a cheeky smile.
I’d allow the insolence—for now.
“Is that right?” I drawled. “I’ll bet Allison is the ringleader.”
She squirmed in her seat but didn’t confirm.
Loyal.
I smiled.
I liked that.
She was obedient without grovelling. A rare balance. She didn’t seek attention, but she commanded mine regardless. Quiet strength. Unpolished grace.
My loyal subject.
I rolled the empty glass in my hand.
“You’ve always known your place, haven’t you?” I said, voice low. “Even when you disagreed, you knew when to hold your tongue.”
Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t answer.
Good girl.
“It’s a trait I value highly,” I added. “Loyalty, silence, discipline.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, uncertain now. Curious but cautious.
She didn’t realise she’d already been chosen.
She’d already been claimed.
I reached forward and adjusted the cufflink at my wrist. Slowly. Deliberately. “You’ll be rewarded for it, Lucia. In time.”
Her throat bobbed, and for a moment she looked away—out the window like there might be an escape at thirty thousand feet.
But there wasn’t.
Not from me.