Lucien chuckled. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked, moving toward the entrance to the large walnut bar. “Club soda with lime, right?”
“Yes,” Francesca said, pleasantly surprised that he’d recalled. Zoe sat next to her on one of the stools, asking her a few more questions about the painting. She noticed Lucien didn’t ask Zoe for her drink order, just automatically placed a bottle of ginger ale in front of her.
“So are you guys going out?” Francesca asked a few minutes later, taking a grateful sip of her soda. She blinked when she saw Lucien’s and Zoe’s startled expressions. “I mean . . . I just thought it looked like . . . never mind,” she said, taking another gulp and setting her glass back on the counter. “Just ignore me. I’m always saying stupid things.”
Lucien broke into laughter. Zoe gave a faltering smile. “It’s not that. Yes. Zoe and I are going out. We’re just trying to fly under the radar about it, that’s all.”
“Radar?” Francesca asked, confused.
“Ian, in a word,” Lucien said, still smiling.
“Ian? Why are you trying to avoid Ian?” Francesca asked.
“It’s frowned upon for Noble Enterprises employees to date, especially a manager and nonmanager,” Lucien said.
“I keep telling Lucien that I’m an assistant manager,” Zoe spoke up heatedly, glaring at Lucien. Obviously this was a much-talked-about, incendiary topic between the couple. “I don’t think we’re breaking any rules. We’re in two completely different industries for the company. Surely Ian wouldn’t mind.”
“Who cares if Ian minds?” Francesca blurted out, leaning forward on the bar and frowning. “Why does everyone have to defer to him like he’s the king of the realm or something? You two have the right to live your life based on what you want, not Ian Noble’s whims.”
A thick silence followed her outburst. It took Francesca a moment to realize that Lucien was staring behind her and that Zoe was turning slowly in her stool, her expression frozen.
Francesca shut her eyes and inhaled through constricted lungs. “Ian’s behind me, isn’t he?” she whispered to Lucien. Lucien’s flattened expression was her answer.
She twirled around on her stool, anxiety rising in her. He stood between the entrance of the restaurant and the portion of the bar where Zoe and she sat. The sight of him ripped a jagged, deep crack in her defenses. Longing welled up in her, so strong it stole her breath. He wore an impeccable black suit that highlighted the masculine lines of his long body to perfection, one of the crisp white dress shirts he favored, and a pale silver tie. His face was liked carved marble: beautiful, cold, impassive. His eyes gleamed with heat, however, as he studied her—and her alone—from the shadows of the dimly lit restaurant bar.
“When did you get back?” Francesca asked, her mouth dry.
“Just now,” he replied. “Mrs. Hanson said that you mentioned your plan to stop by the lobby. When I didn’t see you, I was headed to my office, and Pete—the security guard—told me about his encounter with a young woman who sat in the lobby all afternoon staring into space, occasionally taking pictures of nothing and who told him she was studying the light.” Did his full lips twitch slightly in amusement at that? “I got the feeling he wasn’t sure if you were a potential threat to security or a fairy.”
“Oh . . . I see,” Francesca said, feeling strangely as if he’d just reached out and caressed her with his last comment. She glanced uncomfortably at Zoe. Had her big mouth just gotten Lucien and Zoe in trouble?
“Taking a break, Ms. Charon?” Ian asked with brisk kindness.
Zoe slid down from her stool and smoothed her skirt, her cheeks taking on a rosy hue. “I was taking a break, but it’s time that I got back to the office.”
Ian nodded, glancing from her flustered appearance to Lucien. “Yes. It’s always best to be discreet in these matters,” he said, meeting Lucien’s stare.
Lucien nodded once. Francesca realized, dazedly, Ian had just told the couple he was okay with their relationship as long as they didn’t flaunt it.
“May I speak with you for a moment? There’s something I want to show you,” Ian said to Francesca. Zoe swept past them, clearly intent on making her escape while the going was good.
“I . . . okay,” Francesca said, feeling a little trapped by the situation, not to mention by Ian’s compelling eyes and her upsurge of raw longing. Had she really believed she could expunge him from her mind and soul so easily because of anger? What was fury to the swelling, inexplicable feelings she had for him?
She said good-bye to Lucien, giving him an apologetic glance in the process. Lucien smiled in reassurance.
“Where are we going?” Francesca asked Ian when she trailed him out of Fusion and they walked toward the exit of the lobby versus the elevators. She’d thought he’d take her to his office, but instead he led her through the turnabout to the sidewalk.
“Back to the penthouse. There’s something I want to show you there.”
She came to an abrupt halt, her gaze leaping to meet his. Something flickered across his stoic features, and she wondered if he’d also recalled how he’d said a similar thing to her weeks ago . . . the night when she’d first met him right here at Noble Enterprises.
“I don’t want to go to the penthouse with you,” she said stiffly. Had it sounded like a lie to him? It certainly had to her. Part of her very much wanted to go to the penthouse with him. Why did she have to find him so irresistible? He was like a drug in her system, but it was worse than that kind of addiction. Worse because her soul was involved. Worse because she couldn’t help but see a part of Ian’s soul as well . . . couldn’t help but be haunted by it.