The little crack that cut through her composure before is bigger and more noticeable now. She stares at me like I just asked her to build a dirty bomb.
She’s stunned—and there’s something else I can’t put my finger on. But why is she acting like this? She can’t possibly think I’d never fall in love. Or…did she honestly believe that I would fall for her? After what she’s pulled?
A lot of people consider me one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. I’m young enough and—more importantly—wealthy and well connected. Lots of women have wanted to be Mrs. Sebastian Lasker, and none of them worked out. I have plans for my married life—or did. Meet a nice, scandal-free woman who shares the same values I do. She can’t be stupid or lazy or boring. And we’ll have a peaceful and dignified life together.
Lucienne Peery doesnotfit the bill.
Suddenly, she lets out a soft laugh. “Love?Surely you don’t believe in such a thing, Sebastian.”
Something hot grips me by my dick at the way my name rolled off her tongue, and I hate my body’s reaction to her. Okay, so she’s pretty. That doesn’t mean I want to fuck her.
My penis disagrees.
Fine, I want to fuck her, but that doesn’t mean anything. Jesus, I’m a man. Of course I want to fuck a pretty woman.
Not all of them. You didn’t want to fuck Shawnie,my brain reminds me.
Shawnie and I had no chemistry. That’s why. And I don’t want the names of all the pretty young things who have left me cold.
“You’re too practical for something as sentimental as love,” Lucienne adds with a smile that appears strangely self-deprecating. Her quiet, resigned response doesn’t make sense, but I ignore the slight unease in my gut. “By the way, if it makes you feel better, you were my first choice. Your grandparents thought Preston might be better because we’re closer in age.”
It's a ridiculous lie. Mom already told me I wasn’t her first choice, and nothing Lucienne says is going to lessen my anger over how close I came to losing Sebastian Jewelry. “I’m seeing somebody right now, you know.”
Uncertainty ripples over her face, but when she blinks, it’s gone. “Is she the one you fell in love with?” she asks softly.
“Yes.” A lie for a lie.
She bites her lip, her eyes flicking away briefly. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was feeling guilty, even hurt. But why would she be affected by my lie? She and I don’t know each other.
Suddenly, she puts on a bright smile. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about the arrangements. However, I’ll do what I can to make up for it.”
“I don’t know what you can possibly do to compensate, but…”How the hell does she think she can make up for something like that?
“Anyway, I don’t care what people say about our marriage, but will it bother you if people gossip that there’s something off about us?” Lucienne asks.
The smooth mask is back on her face, and the sight of it both relieves and frustrates me. I don’t want to see her be vulnerable, but I also don’t want her to hide her reactions. It makes it difficult to gauge how to deliver damage.
“Gossip?” I say it dismissively, although I’m not looking forward to the whispers to come. I hate being the topic of idiotic speculation, and Lucienne’s pushing me onto center stage. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but everything is off about us.”
“Fine, then. Why don’t we do a couple of ‘dates’?”
I shoot her a sardonic smile. “So everyone knows you moved on as soon as you caught my half-brother in bed with your sister?”
“Half-sister,” she says. “Somebody I wish wasn’t related to me, truth to be told. I don’t suppose you approve of Preston?”
“No.”
“Well. We have that in common, at least.” She gives me a smile that’s trying a little too hard.
Her oscillating between uncertainty and calmness betrays her nerves and anxiety. The fact that she’s standing her ground despite my overt hostility is commendable. Most men can’t, and women usually just break down into tears.
“Anyway, about the dating—”
“I don’t have time to waste on this silly charade. Unlike you, I actually run my company.”
If the jab hits the mark, she doesn’t show it. “Surely you need to eat.”
“I eat at my desk,” I say, trying my best to sound like an asshole. It’s another lie. I try to have a normal lunch break when possible. I work to live, not live to work. Enjoying a good meal is part of the deal.
