Falling In (The Surrender Trilogy 1)

“Who?”

“A friend.”

“A male friend?”

She frowned. “What difference does that make?”

“I find it makes quite a bit of difference. Until our time together expires I expect you to treat our situation monogamously.”

“I will.”

He was quiet for a moment and they both looked out opposite windows. “Who is he?”

“Who?”

“The gentleman you were with this morning?”

“How do you know I was with a gentleman?” He gave her a dubious look and understanding dawned. “Oh my God, you had me followed!”

“Don’t act so surprised. Do you mind telling me what you were doing all the way in lower Folsom? My man tells me you were in one of the poorest sections of the city.”

“Your man?”

She was still reeling at the idea of being followed. She thought about last night and Lucian’s descriptions of the pawns in the game of chess. He was the king and she was his asset and his pawns would do everything in their power to protect the queen.

“I cannot believe you had me followed! Where I went and who I was with is none of your business.”

She turned away and he gripped her arm tightly, almost painfully.

“Be very careful, Evelyn. We have an agreement. Until you or I end our arrangement, you are, for all intents and purposes, in my care. I wouldn’t drive my favorite car in that section of Folsom. Don’t expect me to let something much more valuable go there.”

“Something? Do you hear yourself? I—am—a—person! Not a thing!”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m aware that you’re a living, breathing, flesh and blood woman, Evelyn. It hasn’t slipped my attention since the moment I found you rummaging through my desk.”

She scoffed. “I was not rummaging.”

“Regardless, I don’t want you visiting that part of town again.”

Scout turned and scowled out the window, seething. That part of Folsom was her home. Big, stupid, rich moron!

After several minutes Lucian said, “I spoke to Vivian.”

It took her a moment to realize he was referring to Dr. Sheffield. When she did, she stilled. He could not expect sex after they just had an argument.

“She seemed very adamant that we proceed slowly. Care to tell me why?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Scout said with feigned indifference.

“Don’t play games with me, Evelyn. I want to know why Vivian’s so concerned with my intentions toward you.”

“Maybe she’s just being nice. People do like me, Lucian. Maybe she liked me and is just trying to be a friend.”

“She is a friend. My friend. Now tell me what she meant.”

Her shoulders sagged and she faced him. “She meant nothing. I’m clean as a whistle so we can go on with our arrangement as planned. Whatever the reason behind her warning, I assure you, it isn’t necessary. I’m a big girl and I know perfectly well what I’m getting myself into.”

He contemplated her for a moment. When they arrived at the hotel he said, “No, I believe I’ll wait. Dugan, please see that Ms. Keats makes it to her room safely. I’ll stay here until you return.”

Scout turned, shocked. “You aren’t coming up with me?”

“Not tonight, Evelyn. I think I’ll go out for a bit.”

She wanted to throw something at him. Her nerves had been a wreck all night, and where the hell did he think he was going? Her eyes suddenly glazed with tears of frustration. She lifted her chin and turned on her heel, marching right up and over the damn red runner with gold tassels.

Once she made it back to her room, she shut the door on Dugan and threw her shoe at the wall. What was happening to her? Her trembling fingers wiped her eyes and she was appalled to find she was crying.

How silly. Almost as silly as a five-thousand-dollar dinner at an overvalued flea market showing off a hodgepodge of crap!

Scout stripped out of her dress and went to the bathroom to wash off her makeup, hating Evelyn, wanting Scout back. Sniffling, she plucked the pins from her hair and tossed them all over the vanity, some pinging to the tile floor.

She looked like the bride of Frankenstein with her hair still sprayed into place and mascara marks beneath her eyes.

“You are a jerk, Lucian Patras,” she said, narrowing her eyes at the mirror. Something about being in that man’s presence unhinged her, leaving her raw and vulnerable. Such self-doubt was unfamiliar and unwelcome.

Her gaze moved to her underwear and the fancy lace bra she wore. None of this was her. He may have thought she was being stubborn, but she was actually trying very hard to be what he expected. Scout stripped out of her underwear and dug through the bags of clothing. Nothing was right.

From the closet she pulled on the big terrycloth robe, then grabbed her old bag and curled up on the bed, tucking her feet beneath her. Digging deep in the inside pocket, she found the picture she was looking for. She stared at it and wiped her eyes as the tears continued to fall. She was overwhelmed by so many unfamiliar things, angry at her inability to keep up with this sort of life, and, most of all, frustrated that he’d some how managed to affect her in such a way.