When You Defy Me (When I'm With You Part 2) by Beth Kery Read Free Book Online Page A

to get me into bed.”
    He gave her a weary glance and walked toward his desk. “Right. That dress you were wearing screamed a practical day at the
     office. I hired the best candidate for the job, but I’m not at all unhappy that she’s a female, the truth be told. I know
     the effect you have on men. They lose about forty points off their IQ in your vicinity. No need to light the fuse if it can
     be avoided.”
    “I resent your constant allegations that I’m promiscuous.”
    “That’s funny,” he said, unconcerned by her offended act. He lowered to the chair behind his desk. “Because
I
resented learning about your constant displays of promiscuity. I even witnessed them a time or two.”
    She stilled. “What do you mean?” she asked slowly, not sure she actually wanted an answer.
    “Half of Europe saw that photo of you dancing nude on top of a cocktail table at the engagement party for the son of the
     archduke of Luxembourg,” he said dryly.
    “I was wearing a thong,” she defended, chin up. Lucien’s sharp, annoyed glance made her wilt on the inside, however.
    “And how about the night I came upon you in a secluded alcove at the Opéra de Paris?
You were busy demonstrating what was apparently your enthusiastic,
deep
affection for a married, middle-aged politician. I believe you were nineteen at the time. Do you recall?”
    “I . . . you . . .
wait
.” Her heart squeezed tight and seemed to stop in her chest. “Was that
you
who interrupted when I was with Hugh Langier?”
    His sarcastic expression was her answer.
    Enthusiastic
, deep
affection
.
    Oh no. She shut her eyes, but Lucien’s stare continued to score her. She hadn’t seen who had walked in on her tryst with
     Langier; she only knew someone had. Knowing that
someone
was Lucien made her feel light-headed with shame. How could she have been so impulsive—so
stupid
—at times?
    No. She wouldn’t think of it. She
wasn’t
that person anymore.
    “I doubt you’d like what I did to your paramour when he came into Renygat two nights later,” Lucien muttered. “Slimy sod.”
    “He
wasn’t
my paramour,” she bit out, but then she fully absorbed what he’d said. “Did you hit him or something?” Lucien gave her a
     bland glance. “You got in a fight with a
senator
?”
    Over me?
    He didn’t comment further, but she saw the way his nostrils flared, a sure sign he was subduing his anger. What he’d referred
     to had occurred during the height of her careless self-indulgence. There’d been a time when she found life meaningless, when
     everything had been a joke. Her only concern was to have as much fun as she could, and damn the consequences. Acquaintances
     in Paris—not to mention her parents—had looked the other way during her wildest, most desperate, period.
    Wasn’t it better that Lucien was angry versus uncaring?
    “I know you believe in me, Lucien. Even if only a little bit. I know you’re not so callous as you behave. I wish you’d quit
     putting on the act,” she said, plucking up her façade of confidence.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Ms. Riordan told me that you specified that her job was provisional upon her taking me on as a stage.”
    A silence stretched between them. She’d been stunned and pleased when Ms. Riordan had revealed that morsel of information
     during their discussion.
    “And I told you, if you are to live in this city, I’d just as soon have you nearby where I can monitor you. Speaking of which,”
     he said, talking over the disgusted sound she made. She knew very well he’d just sidestepped her revelation that he’d done
     something kind for her. “I’d like to escort you tomorrow evening to Ian and Francesca’s party.”
    Her heart leapt. Denise Riordan had been hired. Francesca was no longer his employee. Lucien would feel freer now to act
     on his proposed relationship. A thought struck her, deflating her ballooning excitement like a dead-on torpedo.
    “You want to supervise me, don’t