11. Risotto #3
His mouth returned to mine, more determined this time, while the hand at my waist pulled me flush against him. Something hard pressed into my thigh, and I gasped as I realized it was his erection.
Daniel Lyons was hard. For me.
My cheeks suddenly felt like they were inside a bread oven.
“Fuck.” Daniel’s mouth drifted across my face while he ground against my leg. “You’re so fucking hot. I haven’t felt this hard in years . I swear to God, Marie, I need you. I’m gonna die if I don’t?—”
BANG BANG BANG
A loud, authoritative knock on the pool house door made us spring apart like we were on a trampoline.
“Daniel.” Lucas’s deep voice carried through the oak, calm but commanding. “Is Marie in there with you?”
I frowned. Lucas was looking for me ?
Oh, God.
This was it.
Ondine was right. I was a dish towel, not a napkin. A cook, not a girlfriend. I wasn’t supposed to be here, in this beautiful room, on this beautiful estate. Not with Daniel. Not with anyone.
“Goddamn it,” Daniel muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
The sudden sharpness in his voice made me take another step back just as the door opened, and Lucas entered. His eyes found me and didn’t move.
“All right?”
For some reason, I didn’t think he was asking both of us.
He wore the same clothes he had at dinner, the same clothes he’d worn almost every day since I’d known him, minus the suit jacket and tie, which he’d removed this late in the evening.
Tailored suit pants clung to his lean, muscled thighs, and his white oxford shirt was now rolled up to his elbows.
His expression was unreadable as he took in the scene.
Daniel’s rumpled hair, my swollen lips, the remnants of lipstick on Daniel’s face? Yeah, we didn’t exactly look innocent.
I nodded. “Yeah—yes. I’m all right.”
His gaze floated to the kerchief holding back my hair and warmed slightly. “I like that scarf, Marie. Another flea market find?”
I touched the kerchief. “I—yes, actually.”
Why did he seem to notice everything?
“Lucas, do you know that you have the worst fucking timing?” Daniel took another long drink.
Lucas’s gaze moved to him like he had just remembered he was there. “Quite the evening.” His tone was suddenly glacial.
“Can we help you?” Daniel tipped back the other half of his drink in one big gulp.
Lucas’s eyes seemed to follow its progression until he cleared his throat and turned to me. “Yes. Marie, I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, but I thought you’d want time to pack. We leave early in the morning for S?o Paulo.”
“What?” Daniel spoke a little too loudly, swaying in place. “Why?”
I blinked between them. “I…you’re taking me to Brazil?”
The idea sounded intimate, though I knew it wasn’t. That didn’t stop the flutter in my stomach from growing exponentially at the idea of being whisked off to exotic locations with Lucas Lyons.
It was broken. My flutter had to be broken.
“Correct,” Lucas said. “Followed by Tokyo, then London. I have to tour some of our investments, meet with stakeholders, finish some deals, among other things. We’ll be gone about a month.”
“And you want me to go with you?” The words came out choked, while Daniel looked like he wanted to punch his brother in the face.
Lucas shrugged. “I just paid a fortune to develop a private chef. I’d like her to accompany me while I travel instead of eating who-knows-what from random restaurants the entire time.”
He made it sound like he’d eat McDonald’s and cheap pizza for thirty days when we all knew he could close down a five-star kitchen for every meal and not dent his accounts.
Still, he had a point. I was his chef, not Daniel’s girlfriend. One of these titles took precedence. And while Ondine used to be the one who traveled with the family, it made sense that I’d be transitioning into that role before she retired.
“Does Ondine know?” I asked.
“She suggested it,” Lucas replied. “She doesn’t want to make the long trips anymore. Says she’s too old.”
“Suuuure she did,” Daniel muttered, right before Lucas silenced him with a glare.
“You might want to get some sleep,” Lucas told him. “Tomorrow you’re going to another dinner with the Hubbards. They’ve requested you specifically.”
Daniel straightened. “You can’t make me do that.”
“Can’t I?”
Something passed between the brothers. Something I couldn’t read, though the tension could have been plucked like a string.
Finally, Daniel relaxed before he downed the rest of his scotch. “You’re an asshole, Lucas. You know that, right?”
“And you’re drunk, Daniel.”
I looked between them, suddenly more than uncomfortable. “I should, um, probably go pack, then. What time do we leave?”
“Seven.” Lucas was still engaged in a stare down with his brother. But when his gaze moved back to me, it softened again. Just a little. “Lawrence and I will meet you out front.”
“Who the hell is Lawrence?” Daniel wondered.
“The driver,” Lucas and I said at the same time.
He nodded with a slight smile.
All our names. He always knew all our names.
“Good night, Marie.” He stepped aside. “I need a quick word with my brother.”
“I bet you do,” Daniel snarled from the wet bar, where he was already making himself another drink.
I edged around Lucas, who opened the door for me. Before leaving, however, I turned back to Daniel, who was still measuring out his scotch.
“Well, bye then,” I called out. “I’ll…”
What could I say? That I’d call from Brazil? That I’d see him in a month?
I waited a moment, thinking he might look up from his drink. Thinking he might come back, kiss me on the cheek, wish me a good trip, or tell me he’d miss me or something .
Lucas glanced between us and gave a heavy sigh before he took my hand and squeezed it briefly. Electrically. And then released it just as quickly.
“He’ll be in touch. I’ll see you in the morning, Marie.”
My name, in his deep timbre, hung in the air like a bell that had just been rung.
“Good night, Lucas.”
The door closed, and right after, there was a crash of glass hitting wood behind me.
I turned, but when the door didn’t open, I hurried away into the night.