Chapter 4 Promotion from hell
Iris let out an audible gasp, going pale. The shocked disbelief and fear bloomed in her wide eyes as glimpses of memories flashed before her-laughter, anticipation, the shriek of tires. "That... That was me. Who was I with?"
"Me." Lucien's voice dropped, thick and raspy. He killed the video and shoved his phone in his pocket, his hand finally rising to brush her cheek. It was a feather-light, searing caress. "We'd been seeing each other for months. Secretly. You were working for a competing company, and the crash wasn't an accident. They wanted to eliminate a bargaining chip they knew you were to me. I saved you. I dragged you out of that burning wreckage, and I held you as you bled out, whispering my name before you slipped away."
Tears pricked her eyes but she blinked them away fiercely; her will against the tide of fear and confusion was an incredibly fragile thing. She stumbled backward, breaking the contact though her skin burned from his touch. "If that's true why did you leave me? Let me wake up in a hospital with no memory of you and live all these long, dark years? Why didn't you just tell me the truth?"
A painful expression flashed across Lucien's face, bare for just a fraction of a second, then gone. His broad shoulders tightened, his fists clenching. "Because the doctors said even the slightest stress would cause irreparable damage to your brain. And the threats didn't stop. My proximity to you would have been a danger to you. I chose to protect you... From a distance. I bought this company; I built it up, and I gave you the lowly job you "earned" so I could be near you without you knowing. Every single promotion you received, every step up that ladder; that was me, insuring you stability, insuring you were safe."
Her heart thudded visibly against the fragile bones of her throat. She felt the surge of a million emotions all at once-betrayal at his manipulation, an uncomfortable draw to the man who'd saved her, outrage at the theft of her own life. "That wasn't protection; that was possession. You stole my life, my choices from me. And now you've summoned me like some prize?"
His eyes turned an dark, possessive color, and he framed her face again with his hands, thumbs stroking her wet cheeks gently, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall. "It was always going to end like this. You and I; you in my orbit, under my protection. I've waited all these years for you to be ready. The emails, the solvable problems, the opened doors... That was me trying to tell you the world could be good. That I could be good. To you."
She snatched his wrists, intending to push him away, but her fingers tightened reflexively around the hard bone of his arms. An immediate and electric flare ignited between them and her nipples tightened acheingly beneath her blouse as an unwanted desire mixed with her rage. "Let me go, Lucien. I'm not ready, I may never be ready. That... Whatever that was... That's gone."
"You feel it." He whispered, his voice hoarse. He moved closer, their foreheads almost touching. "The connection. The body's recognition of mine, even when the mind can't remember. Last night in my office, you were terrified for me. You still are."
Iris’s breathing hitched, her cheeks flushed with the potent combination of anger, fear and lust she couldn’t possibly disguise. She was strong, independent, resilient, but she was trapped in his gravity and she felt torn apart from the inside out. The stakes couldn't be higher-her freedom was slipping from her fingertips, her buried memories clawed at the edges of her consciousness and, worst of all, she was already tempted to desire the man who’d imprisoned her.
The sweet ding of an alarm on her new computer sounded, and Lucien slowly released her. He stepped back, his chest heaving with raw hunger, frustration, and a determined resolve. "Your first assignment. The competitor report. I want your candid analysis, unvarnished. I trust your mind implicitly, Iris. Use it to my disadvantage if you must. It only makes you more compelling."
Iris sank back into the chair, her legs weak and her eyes fixed on his face before he turned and disappeared back into his office, the glass wall between them transparent as ice, his eyes still on hers.