When I'm With You Part VI: When You Trust Me Read online

  Contents

  Also by Beth Kery

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Special Excerpt from Exposed To You

  About the Author

  When I’m With You

  PART I: WHEN WE TOUCH

  PART II: WHEN YOU DEFY ME

  PART III: WHEN YOU TEASE ME

  PART IV: WHEN I’M BAD

  PART V: WHEN YOU SUBMIT

  PART VI: WHEN YOU TRUST ME

  Because You Are Mine

  PART I: BECAUSE YOU TEMPT ME

  PART II: BECAUSE I COULD NOT RESIST

  PART III: BECAUSE YOU HAUNT ME

  PART IV: BECAUSE YOU MUST LEARN

  PART V: BECAUSE I SAID SO

  PART VI: BECAUSE YOU TORMENT ME

  PART VII: BECAUSE I NEED TO

  PART VIII: BECAUSE I AM YOURS

  Berkley Sensation titles by Beth Kery

  WICKED BURN

  DARING TIME

  Berkley Heat titles by Beth Kery

  SWEET RESTRAINT

  PARADISE RULES

  RELEASE

  EXPLOSIVE

  One Night of Passion series

  ADDICTED TO YOU (WRITING AS BETHANY KANE)

  EXPOSED TO YOU

  One Night of Passion Specials

  BOUND TO YOU

  CAPTURED BY YOU

  When I’m With You

  Part VI

  When You Trust Me

  Beth Kery

  INTERMIX BOOKS, NEW YORK

  INTERMIX BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  For more information about the Penguin Group visit penguin.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have control over and does not have any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  WHEN YOU TRUST ME

  An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  InterMix eBook edition / April 2013

  When I’m With You copyright © 2013 by Beth Kery.

  Excerpt from Exposed to You copyright © 2012 by Beth Kery.

  Cover design by Sarah Oberrender.

  Photo: Diamond-covered spoon full of pearls © Tooga/GettyImages.

  Satin background © Yellowj/Shutterstock.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN: 978-1-101-61663-5

  INTERMIX

  InterMix Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group

  and New American Library, divisions of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  INTERMIX and the “IM” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Chapter Eleven

  Elise grimaced as she glanced at the bedside chest at midnight. Part of her regretted not opening that drawer this evening. Part of her longed to do a replay of the past two nights and experience such intense pleasure . . . such intense intimacy with Lucien. They hadn’t just had mutual climaxes for the past two nights; they’d made love while they were half a world apart. He really was magical, the way he could pull off the impossible. Part of her wished she could just ignore her irritation.

  But she couldn’t.

  She picked up her ringing cell phone.

  “Bonjour,” she said crisply into the receiver.

  There was a pause. “Bonsoir. Don’t we sound businesslike,” Lucien said, sounding amused and wary.

  “I am in the mood for business. And not the business of the past two nights,” she said pointedly. It was technically a lie. She was in the mood for the business of gushing in pleasure and hearing Lucien’s voice go rough and sexy with lust as he instructed her and she did precisely what he commanded. But she had more crucial business at hand. “How was your day?”

  “Productive,” he said. “Atale and I are still getting the books in order for the Three Kings. It’s tedious work.”

  “I can imagine,” she said, compassion seeping into her awareness. No matter her annoyance at him, Lucien was going through a rough time right now. He sounded exhausted. “Don’t tell me you were up again all night?”

  “I’ll catch some sleep this morning,” he said, the hitch in his voice making her think he’d just fallen into bed. A sharp longing went through her to be there with him, to feel his arms around her— She interrupted her own thoughts before she sabotaged herself.

  “Francesca stopped by Fusion today. She asked you and me to come to dinner at Ian’s Monday night. Do you want to go?”

  “I should be back in town by then. Yes, if you do.” There was a pause and Elise simmered in the silence. “You might as well get to it,” he said.

  “Get to what?”

  “Whatever you’re pissed about. I assume there’s something, because you clearly haven’t been following my instructions,” he said levelly.

  “With good reason. Do you know what else Francesca asked me?” Elise demanded, launching into her attack. “If I would ask my father to design her wedding dress. Ian told her to ask me.”

  “Okay,” Lucien said slowly. His cautious confusion at her anger only amplified her irritation.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that Ian knew who I was?”

  “Was it important to you that he didn’t know?”

  “No,” she exclaimed heatedly. “It’s not important to me. I thought it was important to you to keep my family and background hushed up. I thought you were trying to keep people from asking questions about our past connection!”

  Lucien sighed. “If it’s any consolation to know it, I never told Ian specifically about your family. He found out himself. He knows everything about people that are in his life, even in the peripheral sense. It’s not only a precaution; it’s in his nature to know as much as he can in any given situation. He’s not the most trusting type, Ian. I imagine he comes by his paranoia honestly.”

  Elise’s mouth fell open. Her annoyance segued to outrage.

  “By your logic, Ian Noble would know everything about you and your past, then.” The silence rung in her ears. She threw caution to the wind. “He would know all about your father’s prosecution and imprisonment.”

  “He does know all about it. I confided in him after my father’s arrest. He supported me during the trial, just by listening. I never told you anything different,” he added when she remained silent in disbelief.

  “That’s because you never said anything to me period. Besides, you’ve told me from the beginning you didn’t want me screwing up and spilling the beans about your father and your identity.”

  “I never said that about my father. You just assumed it.”

  Hurt swamped her at his cool response. Her throat
grew tight. For a few seconds, she couldn’t speak. Lucien made a sound of frustration.

  “When you stormed into Fusion that day pretending to be my chef, and Ian walked in on us, I just thought it would be easiest and cleanest to say that we didn’t know each other. I couldn’t make things too complicated, given the situation.”

  “You couldn’t make your lie too complicated. Isn’t that what you mean?” she seethed.

  “If you prefer to put it that way. Yes.”

  “Did you know that Ian and Francesca realize that we’re lovers?”

  “I suspected they did, ever since the party at the penthouse.”

  “And you didn’t think it was important to tell me? No, no one can tell Elise anything,” she shouted into the phone. “She’s too much of a loose cannon. Just leave her in the dark and let her stumble around like a fool. That’s the best way to deal with a wild child.”

  “I don’t think you’re a loose cannon,” he said in a tight voice.

  “That’s precisely what you think. You even told me you needed to keep an eye on me . . . keep me in line—isn’t that what you said?”

  “Elise—”

  “Here’s a crazy idea,” Elise interrupted, her voice going high. “Why not just tell me why you’re being so crazy about Ian Noble, and then you won’t have to worry about me unintentionally setting off an explosion?”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not? Because you don’t trust me enough to tell me.” She answered her own question, her hurt turning to a burn in her chest. “You still think I’ll impulsively say something wrong . . . or worse, try to blackmail you with the knowledge.”

  “I don’t really think you’d try to blackmail me,” he said, frustration in his tone.

  “You said you did before.”

  “What if I did?” he said abruptly. “You were thinking about how you could use something against me to get what you wanted. I could see it in your eyes, that day in my office. Do you deny it?”

  She opened her mouth to do just that but bit her lip, halting her lie at the last second.

  “I didn’t think so,” he said after a charged pause. “That doesn’t mean I truly believe you’d do something underhanded to intentionally hurt me.”

  That admission let the pressure in her chest and throat remit enough to allow her to take a painful inhale, but she was still furious. And confused.

  “I wasn’t worried that you would intentionally undermine me, Elise,” Lucien repeated, suddenly sounding weary. “I just thought it’d be easier all around if you could be quiet about our past. I realized that I wasn’t giving you enough guidance and information on that. That’s why I said I wanted to keep an eye on you. It wasn’t because I don’t trust you.”

  The silence seemed to swell in her ears and in her throat.

  “If you believe that, then why don’t you just tell me the truth? Tell me what’s haunting you, Lucien.”

  Inexplicably, tears swelled in her eyes. She realized her reaction was because on some deep level, she recognized the truth of her words. He’d been behaving so inexplicably since he left Paris. Something was haunting Lucien, plaguing him. His secret was eating him alive from the inside out. Of course it was. Why hadn’t she understood that before?

  “I can’t,” he replied quietly. “It’s not my secret to tell. Not entirely, anyway.”

  “You don’t trust me,” she whispered, hurt strangling her voice . . . and panic, as well, that he wouldn’t let her in far enough to help him.

  “That’s not it,” he said edgily. “Look, we’ll talk about it more when I get home.”

  “When will that be?” she asked dully after a moment.

  “I’m not sure. The day after tomorrow, most likely. Elise?” he prompted when she didn’t speak.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry for leading you to believe that it was my father’s crimes that I was trying to keep from Ian. It was just more . . .”

  “Convenient to keep me quiet that way?” she asked when he faded off. It felt like there was a handful of marbles in her throat. “You knew how much I care about you. You knew that if I believed you were feeling vulnerable about Adrien’s incarceration for corporate espionage that I would keep quiet in order to protect you. You used my feelings for you against me to gain my compliance.”

  “I never did that intentionally.”

  “You don’t have to. It comes naturally, to maneuver to get what you want. You and I are alike. Haven’t you said that before?” she reminded him quietly. “You’ve accused me of learning manipulation at the cradle, but you’re no different. You did whatever was convenient to keep the fuse from being lit. You even suggested this relationship to keep me under control.”

  “I suggested our relationship because I care about you,” he said in a hard voice. “I know how proud you are. If you didn’t believe that I truly care about you, you wouldn’t have agreed to any of this between us. You wouldn’t be in my bedroom this very moment.”

  A silent spasm of emotion went through her. She thought of denying that she was, indeed, sitting on his bed as they spoke, just to spite him for his smugness. But what was the point? She did care about Lucien. She knew that he cared about her.

  He didn’t trust her, though. And that was what burned like acid.

  “I’ll be home soon,” Lucien said quietly. “We’ll talk more when I get there. Try to get some rest, ma chère.”

  “Good night,” she said with as much calm dignity as she could muster.

  * * *

  The next morning she arose before dawn and drove out to the stables for a ride on Kesara. Lucien had been kind enough to purchase her a membership at the club, but she wasn’t in the mood to think generous thoughts about him at the moment.

  It helped, the fresh, early-morning air and brisk gallop clearing some of the frustration and worry about her conversation with Lucien. Afterward, she returned to the city and showered. When Sharon came to open Fusion, Elise was waiting at the front doors. She poured all of her agitated energy into her work. By the time nine thirty p.m. came around, she was starting to drag.

  “Why don’t you take off early and get some rest?” Denise suggested. “You look dead on your feet.”

  “It’s Saturday night,” Elise reminded her as she arranged some greens on a plate.

  “We’re completely prepped for the post-theatre crowd, and Evan and Javier are both here. Go on, Elise. You worked like a maniac today. I don’t want you to get sick. I need you too much.”

  Elise gave the older woman a weary smile. “Maybe I will get some rest,” she conceded.

  “Good. There’s no time like the present,” Denise said briskly, taking the knife Elise was holding in preparation to slice a juicy loin of pork. “Have a wonderful weekend.”

  The penthouse was dim and silent when she unlocked the front door that evening, so she wasn’t sure what caused her to go still in the entryway. She listened intently, curious as to what had made her pause and go wary. All was quiet, but then she heard a scraping sound, as if a chair had been pulled a few inched across a wood floor. Her heart jumped into her throat. With her pitched hearing, she heard a man’s voice. It was too muffled to interpret what he’d said, but it sounded guttural and unfamiliar to Elise’s ears.

  There was someone in the penthouse.

  Chapter Twelve

  She fumbled in her backpack for her cell phone, starting to back out the door. She’d call the police and wait with the doorman downstairs until the authorities went up to check things out and hopefully arrest the interloper. Her cell phone screen flickered on. She’d missed a text from Lucien, she observed distractedly as she started to close the door behind her.

  She halted the door when it was an inch from closing. Lucien’s message said that he’d rushed to finish his work and would be on a plane by six p.m. Paris time. Given the time difference, he’d have been in Chicago now for hours.

  She warily reentered the penthouse and moved down the hallway,
her tread silenced by the thick carpeting. A flicker of relief went through her when she heard Lucien’s voice, although she couldn’t make out exactly what he said. A moment later, she stood outside Lucien’s closed office door.

  “I can’t believe he’s dead,” she heard Lucien say clearly.

  “The prison lifestyle isn’t a healthy one.”

  Elise’s mouth went dry. She’d been wrong to think the voice of the man Lucien spoke to was unfamiliar. She’d heard that German-accented voice once before, in Paris. It sounded like the same man Lucien spoke to that night she’d eavesdropped at Renygat.

  Were they talking about Adrien Sauvage? Dear God, he wasn’t dead, was he?

  She should back away. It was wrong to eavesdrop again. But what if she could learn something about Lucien’s secrets . . . about what was plaguing him? She held her breath, listening.

  “I’ll say this for him. He never tried to blackmail any of you, and that’s twenty in all. The bastard hinted there was more, both to me and the police, although he was always coy and clever about offering anything of substance, lest it bring him to trial again.”

  “Your powers of interview and interrogation must be huge. He opened up to you like no other.”

  “He was vain. I was someone to brag to. Besides, it gave him a chance to learn about you. He soaked up that information.”

  “And yet he refused to speak to me in person.”

  “Perhaps he possessed a sliver of a conscience. His guilt wouldn’t let him face you.”

  “That man didn’t know the meaning of guilt. What a sick fuck.”

  Elise started at the amount of venom in Lucien’s usually level tone. He sounded intimidating in that moment. Frightening.

  “Well, he’s gone now,” the man said.

  “Too bad he couldn’t take his twisted legacy with him.” Her heart began to pound in the ensuing silence. What could make Lucien sound so bitter? Was Lucien truly that angry at his father that he would speak of him this way if he died? No . . . there was something about that possibility that didn’t fit somehow.