Chapter 2 Lucian
LUCIAN
Snow pelted the windows of my stretch limo while my driver navigated Chicago's streets at a crawl. The powder created a blanket of insulation, drowning the sound of traffic and swallowing it whole.
What should have been a twenty-minute ride stretched closer to an hour, but I found myself reluctant to complain.
Tessa perched on the edge of her seat across from me, hands folded in her lap, shoulders rigid with tension that radiated from every line of her body.
The champagne stain on her dress had dried to a darker shade, and she kept glancing at it with mortification written across her face.
Her hair had escaped its usual perfect arrangement, loose strands framing her cheeks in a way that made her appear more mature than her twenty-six years.
"I'm so sorry about tonight," she said for the third time since we'd left the office. "The caterer, the lights, the storm—everything went wrong at once. I should have had backup plans for my backup plans."
I opened the mini fridge built into the partition and withdrew a bottle of champagne, the good stuff I kept for clients who demanded the best.
Dom Pérignon, vintage that cost a small fortune as far as champagne goes. "You can't control the weather, Tessa." The cork released with a satisfying pop, and I caught the bubbles in a flute as they rose and spilled out. "Natural disasters aren't part of your job description."
"But the gala—"
"Will be rescheduled." I poured the golden liquid out into one flute, then a second, watching the bubbles rise in perfect streams. "The world won't end because we postpone a party."
She accepted the glass with careful fingers, as if afraid she might drop it and add another disaster to her evening's tally.
"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who spent three months coordinating with vendors and venues, dealing with temperamental florists and caterers who think they're artists. "
The champagne bubbles tickled my nose as I took a sip, studying her over the rim of my glass.
Since the day she started working for me, Tessa had never shown this level of visible distress. She handled crises with remarkable composure, fielding angry board members and impossible deadlines without breaking stride.
I'd seen her manage hostile takeovers with more equanimity than she displayed now. Seeing her rattled revealed something new—she cared deeply about her work, perhaps more deeply than I'd realized.
"Let's talk about work," I said, settling back against the leather. The seat molded to my body, Italian craftsmanship I had insisted on, sparing no expense. "Do you enjoy being my assistant?" Shifting the conversation to something more familiar, I hoped to help her calm down a little bit.
Soon, we'd be at my penthouse with bottles of wine, and we'd return to the office to save the day for the few stragglers who remained.
The question seemed to surprise her. She took a tentative sip of champagne before answering, her throat working as she swallowed. "It's challenging. I learn something new every day."
"That's not what I asked."
Her eyes met mine, then darted away to focus on the bubbles rising in her glass. The movement exposed the elegant line of her neck, pale skin that looked impossibly soft. "I do enjoy it. Most of the time. The work is engaging, and I get to see how the company operates from the inside. But…"
"But?"
"I'd love to be more involved in the actual investment side. I'm finishing my finance degree—night classes when I can manage them—and I hope to eventually transition into a more active role." Her voice grew stronger as she spoke, confidence replacing uncertainty.
I raised an eyebrow. In four years, she'd never mentioned pursuing additional education. The revelation was a pleasant surprise. "What's your timeline for graduation?"
"Another year, maybe eighteen months if I can't maintain full course loads every semester.
" She took another sip, liquid courage working its magic.
"The schedule's brutal between work and classes, but I'm managing.
I've been studying our portfolio companies, analyzing market trends in my spare time.
I have ideas about emerging sectors that might be worth exploring. "
"Such as?"
Her entire demeanor shifted, shoulders straightening as she warmed to the subject. The transformation was remarkable—gone was the flustered assistant, replaced by someone with genuine passion for the work. I knew the subject shift was good, but I had no idea she was this invested in her future.
"Sustainable technology infrastructure. Not the flashy consumer products everyone's chasing, but the backbone systems that make renewable energy scalable. Grid storage, smart distribution networks, materials science for more efficient solar cells."
I found myself leaning forward, genuinely intrigued. The woman who organized my meetings and managed my calendar possessed a strategic mind I'd never tapped.
Four years of untapped potential sitting outside my office. "You've done research on this?"
"Extensive research. I have spreadsheets breaking down market penetration rates, regulatory environments by state, projected ROI timelines.
" Her cheeks flushed, whether from the champagne or enthusiasm, I couldn't tell.
The color made her eyes appear more green than hazel.
"I know it's presumptuous, but I thought maybe someday, I could present my findings to you formally. "
"Why haven't you?"
The flush deepened, spreading down her throat. "Because I'm your assistant." Her eyes darted away as she looked down at her hands, then back at my face. "You hired me to handle your schedule, not pitch investment strategies. There's a hierarchy, boundaries that shouldn't be crossed."
The limo lurched slightly as we navigated a particularly snowy intersection, and Tessa gripped her glass to keep it steady.
Outside, the city moved at a turtle's pace, brake lights painting the falling snow red.
Emergency vehicles crawled past us, their flashing lights creating a kaleidoscope effect through the storm.
"What else drives your ambition?" I asked, genuinely curious now. "Beyond career advancement."
She was quiet for a long moment, as if considering her words carefully. "I want security. Real security, not the paycheck-to-paycheck existence I grew up with. I want to build something solid."
"And?"
"And I want a family someday. Children." I noticed the way the corner of her mouth turned up as she said the word. "I know that might sound old-fashioned in today's world, but I've always imagined just being a mom."
The image of Tessa made sense—her gentle hands, her patient manner with difficult clients, the way she remembered everyone's birthdays and preferences without needing reminders.
She would make an excellent, devoted mother. It made me think of my own childrearing days and brought a bitter taste to my mouth.
"That's not old-fashioned," I said. "It's human. Most people want to leave something behind, create meaning beyond themselves."
She smiled, the first genuine smile I'd seen from her all evening.
It transformed her face completely, erasing the stress lines and revealing the beauty I'd somehow overlooked for years.
"My mother keeps asking when I'm going to settle down and give her grandchildren.
She doesn't understand why I'm prioritizing my career right now, why I'm not out there dating and looking for Mr. Right. "
"And why are you prioritizing career over relationships?"
"Because I watched her struggle as a single parent.
She worked two jobs and still barely kept us afloat.
Ramen noodles for dinner most nights, hand-me-down clothes, never knowing if the rent would get paid on time.
" Her jaw set with quiet determination that I recognized—the same steel I saw in the mirror every morning when I styled my hair.
"I won't put my children through that uncertainty.
I want to build a foundation, something stable they can depend on. "
The revelation shifted my perception of her entirely. I'd seen Tessa as competent but unremarkable, a capable assistant without broader aspirations.
Now I understood she'd been playing a longer game, methodically building toward goals I'd never suspected she harbored. The realization stirred respect, certainly, but also a more complex emotion I couldn't immediately name. Admiration, perhaps. Recognition of a kindred spirit.
"Your mother lives where now?"
"Florida. She moved there two years ago, and now she's met someone new." Tessa's expression softened with genuine affection. "He's good to her, treats her the way she deserves after all those years of sacrifice. She deserves happiness after everything she gave up for me."
"You support the relationship?"
"Completely. He makes her laugh, takes care of her, shows her off to his friends. She lights up when she talks about him." Her smile turned wistful. "It's nice seeing her prioritize herself for once instead of worrying about everyone else."
The limo finally pulled to a stop outside my building, the doorman already moving to clear snow from our path before opening the door for us.
Through the windows, I could see the accumulation had reached several inches, maybe a foot, transforming Chicago into a winter wonderland that would paralyze traffic for hours. The storm showed no signs of abating.
"We'll need to move quickly," I told her, helping her from the car. My hand found the small of her back, guiding her toward shelter. "The snow's getting heavier."
The biting cold hit us immediately. Wind whipped through the canyon of buildings, driving snow into our faces.
Tessa pulled her coat tighter as we hurried toward the entrance, our feet crunching through the pristine white layer that muffled the usual city sounds.
The doorman held the door with an apologetic expression on his face.
"Evening, Mr. Cross. Roads are getting bad out there. Heard they're talking about closing some of the major arteries."
"So I noticed." I guided Tessa toward the elevator, my hand remaining at her back longer than strictly necessary. "We won't be long."
The elevator ride to the penthouse passed with both of us catching our breath from the cold. Tessa studied her reflection in the polished steel, attempting to smooth her hair back into order.
I found myself watching her efforts, noting the graceful movements of her hands and the way her earrings drew my eye to her pulse point.
I was finding myself attracted to her, this twenty-something almost young enough to be one of my children. And it wasn't just physical—though she was almost ethereal in her appearance.
The added depth I'd learned about this evening made her seem almost too tempting to control myself.
When the doors opened into my foyer, I gestured toward the living room. "Make yourself comfortable. I need to change out of this champagne shirt."
She nodded, still clutching her coat shut, and I noticed her cheeks were bright red, whether from the cold or embarrassment she still felt, I didn’t know.
I left her examining the city view from my floor-to-ceiling windows and headed off to change.
In my bedroom, I shed the ruined tuxedo jacket and shirt, tossing them toward the hamper. The events of the evening played through my mind as I selected a fresh white dress shirt from my closet, Italian cotton that felt good against my skin.
The woman waiting in my living room bore little resemblance to the assistant I thought I knew.
Ambitious, thoughtful, driven by deeper motivations than I'd credited her with, she intrigued me and turned me on a little, and it plastered a stupid grin to my face I had to rub my hand across to remove.
When I returned to the living room, shirt unbuttoned and black tie draped around my neck, I found Tessa frozen by the windows.
She'd removed her coat, revealing the full lines of her dress, the way the fabric hugged her curves. She turned at the sound of my approach, and the expression on her face stopped me in my tracks.
Her eyes had gone wide, lips slightly parted, a flush creeping up her throat. She stared at my chest, at the tattoos normally hidden beneath expensive fabric, and I watched her pulse flutter visibly at the base of her neck.
The look was unmistakably one of attraction, raw and unguarded in a way that sent heat straight through me. I watched her drink me in and felt my dick pulsing with arousal.
I made no move to button my shirt. It felt somehow like a sacrilege to cover what she seemed to admire so much.
"Would you care for a drink while we're here?" I asked, moving toward the bar cart. There was no sense in rushing back when the ride would take another hour. "Something to warm you up after that walk through the snow?"
Her gaze followed my movement, lingering on the ink that decorated my chest and arms—remnants of a younger, more reckless version of myself that few people ever glimpsed.
"I…" She swallowed hard. The sound of her throat catching made me smirk as I turned away. "I don't think… We should get the wine and champagne and head back. People will be wondering where we are."
The polite rejection didn't surprise me, but something in her tone suggested it cost her effort to voice it. Professional boundaries warring with personal desire, perhaps?
I set down the whiskey I'd been ready to pour, respecting her wishes even as I noticed the way her eyes kept drifting back to my exposed skin.
"Of course." I reached for the top button of my shirt. "Let me just—"
My phone erupted with an emergency alert, the harsh sound cutting through the quiet apartment. I grabbed it from the coffee table, frowning at the screen.
DuPage County—the alert was for my house in Hinsdale, but if they were declaring Level 3 emergencies in the suburbs, it meant the roads downtown would be too dangerous too.
LEVEL 3 SNOW EMERGENCY DECLARED FOR DUPAGE COUNTY. ALL ROADS CLOSED TO NON-EMERGENCY PERSONNEL. SHELTER IN PLACE ORDERS IN EFFECT UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE—flashed across my screen with a large yellow triangle.
"What is it?" Tessa asked, looking up from her own phone with confusion. "I didn't get anything."
"DuPage County just went to Level 3," I said, showing her my screen. "I have a house there, so I get their alerts. If the neighboring county is shutting down completely, Chicago won't be far behind."
Her face went pale, eyes wide with the realization of what this meant.
We were about to be trapped together, possibly for hours.