“Let’s finish the job then.” I can only blame what happens next on my complete absorption in all things Lucian. As he twirls me around to face the wall, I laugh until I hear his harsh inhalation. Oh, fuck. Oh, my God, how could I have forgotten my back? As I attempt to jerk around, he holds me immobile. “What the fuck is this?” he asks too quietly. I shrink as far away from him as I can. I feel the need to apologize as if I have deceived him somehow.

“It’s just a scar,” I say instead, dropping my head in shame. Like Jackson, he won’t want me anymore. I am marked…ugly. “Please, let me go, Luc.” I hate that my voice wobbles as I beg him to release me. When instead I feel his hand softly gliding over my marred flesh, I jolt as if I can still feel the hot brand of the iron; no one has touched me there since that day.

“Lia…baby, how did you get this?” Before I can answer, he adds quietly, “It almost looks like an iron.” Whereas just a moment ago, I was laughing, I now feel tears start to flow, blending in with the water from the shower. I want to disappear, to escape the embarrassment beating down on me. How could I have forgotten? How could I have let him see my back? His grip on me has loosened as he stands looking at my back, and I take advantage of it, wrenching myself free and stumbling from the shower. I have to get away; I need to cover myself from his prying eyes. Not bothering with a towel, I try to pull my shirt on over my wet skin.

Lucian jumps out of the shower, taking in my struggle to dress in one glance. Without saying anything, he takes the shirt from my hand and wraps me instead in a fluffy bath towel. He puts another towel around his waist and then just stands, looking at me.

Picking imaginary lint from the towel, I say, “It is an iron; at least, it was.” He curses low under his breath but doesn’t move.

“Who?” he asks. Lying seems pointless; he doesn’t know me or my family, and I’m unlikely to see him again after this.

“My stepfather.” When his face goes molten and he throws his fist at the wall, I jump, stunned.

“Fucking hell!” he snarls. My teeth are chattering as I start to shake. His eyes widen as he takes in my reaction; he looks instantly contrite. He slowly approaches me, pulling me gently against his chest. “I’m sorry. Shit, I didn’t mean to scare you. That’s probably the last thing you need to see.” He works for a moment to get his breathing under control as he slowly strokes my back. “It just makes me sick to think of some bastard laying his hand on you, or any woman, for that matter. When did this happen? The scar doesn’t look recent, but it’s burned so deeply into your skin.”

“It…was five years ago. Before I left home.” In the warmth of his arms, I find myself clinging to his strength. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you.”

Lucian pulls back, holding me at arm’s length. “Lia, you don’t have anything to be sorry about, and I’m an asshole if I made you think that. Honey, I know I don’t have any right to ask you this, but did he…were you, fuck, did he rape you?”

“No,” I whisper. “After a while, he didn’t want me that way.” I drop my head back to his chest, soaking up the comfort he offers.

“Thank fuck,” he sighs, holding me closer for another moment. We stand that way for another few minutes. I sense he wants to question me further, but he doesn’t, and I’m grateful; I don’t want more of my past ugliness spilled onto him. We both start dressing, and he helps me into my shirt. His cellphone seems to be alternating between texts and ringing, and I know he needs to go. He quickly leads me through the apartment and quietly answers my questions. The place is mostly clean, and I can’t imagine having more than an hour of work to do here. As I walk him to the door, he rubs my arm, saying, “You know this isn’t necessary. I don’t need you to be my housekeeper. I would much prefer hiring someone and having you concentrate on your schoolwork. Hell, if I could keep my damn hands off you, the office would be a much better place for you to learn something beneficial.”

My first smile since the revelation in the bathroom stretches across my face. Despite my scar, he still wants me. I release a breath I hadn’t been aware of holding. “I don’t mind, Luc. I’ve never been given anything for free, and I don’t intend to start now. I would love to witness the inner workings of your company, but not if it would be a distraction for you.” Giving him a teasing grin, I add, “Since you don’t seem to be a slob, this should be an easy job with a flexible schedule for school.” He still looked undecided, so I push him gently toward the door. “Go to work and make some millions or whatever brilliant thing you do there. I’ve got countertops to clean.”

He throws his head back, laughing at my reference to his counters and our earlier activities. “All right, point taken. I had better go before Sam stops calling and comes up here to drag me out.” We both look uncertain for a moment. Should I kiss him goodbye? Thankfully, he takes the decision from my hands and drops a quick kiss on my lips. Thank God; if it had been the forehead, self-doubt would have reared its ugly head again to choke me. “Lock the door behind me,” he orders, and then he is gone.

After I lock the door, I turn to survey his home. Floor-to-ceiling windows make up the living and dining room areas. Two cream-colored leather sofas provide comfortable, but modern, seating areas in front of a large fireplace. The adjacent dining room has seating for eight around a long, mahogany table. Rich hardwood floors flow into the kitchen I briefly glimpsed this morning. I figure this was a good place to start my new duties. As with the rest of the apartment, it appears mostly clean. I empty the coffee maker, cleaning it before resetting it for Lucian. I find some granite cleaner under the cabinet and wipe down all the surfaces. I know I am blushing as I remember what we had been doing on the kitchen island just a short time ago.

Lucian has a restaurant-grade stainless steel stove I take a moment to familiarize myself with. I don’t know if cooking is part of my job description, but I think it would be nice to have a meal for him this evening. I can always leave it in the refrigerator if he doesn’t arrive home before I leave.

After finishing in the kitchen, I head to the laundry room. I wash the items in the basket, but assume from the dry-cleaning bags in his closet that he must have his suits professionally cleaned. That is a huge relief since I have no desire to ruin something so obviously expensive.