Chapter 46

Lucien was sitting up in bed, staring dazedly into the dark. He couldn’t sleep.

When had his mind turned into an internal torture device?

Over and over, he spat insults at himself, filled with disgust and horror at his own thoughts. How could he have thought such a thing about Kendall, of all people?

He'd slept with several women. He even had a membership at a private club where he got his needs taken care of whenever he had the time. So, why would he turn his lust onto someone as pure and innocent as Kendall?

She was pure and innocent, wasn’t she? She had to be.

He convinced himself that she was, even if something else haunted him.

Her face.

When he’d touched her chin, when he’d tilted her head back to make her look up at him and when he’d been imagining something so filthy that he couldn’t say it aloud, her facial expression had been so interesting.

That blush had spread across her skin, and that look had entered her eyes again.

Now that Lucien thought about it, he’d seen that look often. He wanted to believe it was just her flu, but the flu couldn’t possibly make her look at him that way.

Like she’d been thinking the same thing as him. Like she’d wanted him to do it to her, to corrupt her.

He shut his eyes, squeezing them shut. This wasn’t right. He had to stop this train of thought immediately.

She was half his age, he’d watched her grow up. And there was no way she’d actually felt like that. This was just his own lust projecting onto her in his mind.

Releasing a heavy breath, he opened his eyes.

But, still, the thoughts persisted. What about the subtle things in her behaviour that now seemed glaringly obvious when he thought back? Whenever they were alone in his car, she seemed like she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t meet his gaze and seemed to be in agony when he came close, even if it was just to reach into the glovebox.

Why did she react that way? She’d already vehemently denied hating his guts or being scared of him, so what else was left?

He felt her lingering gaze on him during meetings. At the time, he’d thought she’d just been admiring him as he led and directed his employees.

He’d noticed her subtle tremors when he brushed by her in the elevator, her nearly inaudible gasps when she accidentally made contact with his body. Then that blush would flutter over her skin, and she’d glance nervously up at him with those eyes of hers.

Lucien swallowed hard, feeling both self-loathing and a shameful twinge of intrigue.

Not anger, not fear. So, what else was left?

Lucien decided he wouldn’t find out. He’d pretend nothing had happened.

He hadn’t had any thoughts about Kendall, and he hadn’t noticed anything strange in her reactions toward him. Nothing was wrong.

He went to work as usual for the rest of the week, and so did she. Like they’d had a telepathic agreement, they were both at the peak of their professionalism.

They only spoke to each other when it was necessary and kept other interactions to a minimum.

He was quick to miss her random visits to offer him coffee, and the way she always knew what he wanted to eat for lunch. Now, she only brought him coffee in the morning, and he went out for lunch on his own while she ate at the cafeteria.

Lucien still had the discomfort of wondering if his employees were telling her rumours about him, but couldn’t allow himself to ask her.

It felt unnatural to be so uncomfortable around Kendall, but he had to accept it to avoid making things worse than they already were.

He also avoided working overtime. That way, she could get home before it got dark, and there was no need for them to be alone in his car. Lucien was doing everything he could to prevent something that felt like an impending disaster.

It was five p.m. He turned off his computer and tossed his things into his bag before grabbing his jacket and leaving the office.

“Home time, Kendall,” he said casually, striding past her desk.

She straightened in her seat. “Oh. H-have a good evening, Mr Sinclair!”

He was already gone. Sighing, she melted back into her seat.

Slowly, she started packing her bag. She turned off her computer and stood, rolling her chair in.

When Kendall walked out of the reception area and made her way toward the elevators, she hadn’t expected him to still be standing there.

He felt her approach and cleared his throat. The tension was thickening again in that way that he hated. This was his daughter’s friend. There was no reason for it to feel this awkward between them!

Stubbornly, he looked at her and smiled.

Kendall blinked. “I’ll… I’ll take the stairs.”

“No!” Lucien caught himself, swallowing to moisten his throat. “No. You don’t have to. We’ve taken the elevator together countless times. It’s most people’s clock-off time, so…”

“The elevators are busy,” she softly concluded.

He nodded.

In silence, they stood side by side before the elevator doors.

Lucien was determined not to let the silence thicken. “You still okay at the hotel?”

She glanced at him. “Yeah. I’m just too busy to find a secure enough place.”

He nodded. “Let me know if you need help, I can find you a place. It’s not good for a girl as young as you to live alone in a hotel.”

She lowered her gaze, catching the hint perfectly. She was young. Too young.

She raised her chin. “I’m not alone.”

He looked at her. What did she mean? Was she staying with that Liam? He couldn’t bring himself to ask.

The elevator opened, and Kendall got on. He didn’t move.

She raised a brow. “Sir?”

Lucien blinked. “Yes.”

Clearing his throat, he entered the elevator.

Silently, she pressed a button for the ground floor and then pressed one for the parking lot.

Had he gotten her hint, she wondered? That she knew that he’d gotten the room next door to hers. Honestly, knowing that his room was next to hers made her feel so much safer. He hadn’t stayed in that room even once since the day she’d fainted, but knowing that it was there and available for her to run to was so soothing.

And she had run to it. More than once, in the past few days, Kendall had secretly slept in his bed.

She'd only been curious at first, then it turned into a bad habit. She just felt so much safer and much more comfortable there. She hadn’t expected the bed to smell like him, but it did. Just a faint scent that teased her nostrils and vanished again until she was lucky enough to catch it once more.

What would he do if he knew? That she tossed in his bed, tormented with thoughts of him.

Would he throw her out? Or make her dreams a reality?