Page 6 of Trapped with the Forbidden Duke
“Come,” she murmured, gesturing back towards the two leather armchairs in the center of the room.
The room was designed like an informal study combined with a parlor.
“Sit with me?” she suggested.
“I am here to discuss business, not sit idly about,” Lucien told her. “I am sure the man who invited me here thought to bring you as a distraction, but my time has been very much wasted. More so by you.”
Uncertainty flickered in the woman’s gaze—another curious thing, for women like her were usually accustomed to harsher words and slight rejections.
Perhaps this one was new to the job.
Instead of answering, she only drained her glass of whisky.
Bold.
But he quickly noticed her wince, as though she were unaccustomed to spirits.
Lucien held back a satisfied smirk, feeling as though he was growing more and more right about this woman.
“No, you are not a gift,” he observed. For a second, she looked outraged that he called her agift. “You are a trap. Your master, whoever he may be, is attempting to lure me into his proposal. To soften me up.”
He set his glass of whisky down on the desk, not taking his eyes off her. Instead, he approached her, his eyes raking up and down her body.
Her waist was wide, and with how tightly the dress hugged her, he got to see every curve. She was indeed attractive, with sparkling blue eyes that somehow appeared innocent and confident at once, and a hint of a clenched jaw that hardened her otherwise soft features. Her hair was so dark that it was almost black. It curled down her back, prettily decorated with a black ribbon.
As attractive as she was, Lucien was not falling for her tricks. He had seen it happen before, and the business deal was either a false investment, leaving some poor bastard out of pocket and unsatisfied, or it was a poor bargain, and the fool had been tricked into agreeing in the throes of lust.
It was common practice, but Lucien was no fool.
“I am no such thing,” she answered, her eyes meeting his. A soft blush bloomed across her neck and crept up her cheeks.
Lucien hummed. “And this lord you represent, what is his name?”
“I-I did not catch it.”
He could smell the lie as easily as the whisky in his discarded glass—strong, potent, intriguing.
“What business does he wish to speak of?”
The woman only laughed. “I am not here for business talk, Your Grace. Surely you know that is not a woman’s place.”
“And where do you believe that is?”
She leaned forward, her body swaying a little as the alcohol began to take effect. “I am sure you can guess.”
As far as seduction went, she was slightly awkward, her eyes darting around, lacking the confidence of a woman in her line of work.
“Do you often make a point of not learning about your employers?” he questioned.
“I…” She hesitated. “I hardly need to know a great deal when it is not them who my attention is focused on.”
“And, right now, what is it focused on?” Lucien asked her, stepping closer.
Her eyes went wide, and he heard her breath hitch. She swallowed, and her pretty throat bobbed. He felt the urge to tease her mercilessly, but he did not know whether it would be to rile her up or to appease himself.
“I believe you know.”
“Most women in your position are usually more forward with their answers.”
