Riches to Rags Bride / The Heiress's Baby: Riches to Rags Bride / The Heiress's Baby

His thoughts were interrupted by Genevieve appearing in the doorway.

“That was a delivery of paint primer,” she told him with a frown.

“Something wrong with the order?”

She shook her head. “No, but up until now you and I have only spoken about what’s happening at Angie’s House. Here I was all set to show my stuff and prove that I could handle any situation, and all I had to do was tell him where to put everything. Nothing even remotely challenging about that.”

Lucas couldn’t help smiling just a little. “Don’t worry. You’ll face plenty of challenges before we’re through.

There are always setbacks and glitches. I suppose you’re looking forward to those.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “Is this a trick question?”

He chuckled. “No, no tricks, but if it’s empowerment you’re after …”

“It is.”

“Then come stay here.” Like a dog that couldn’t ignore the bone, he came back to the topic that was keeping thoughts of Genevieve simmering in his conscience.

“That’s not empowerment. It’s giving in.”

A trickle of admiration at her tenacity slid through Lucas. He knew Gen didn’t like conflict, but she was making a stand. Too bad her stand conflicted with his. And with a cold, hard truth.

“It’s not giving in,” he said. “Think about this. A lot of the women who’ll come to live at Angie’s House know all about neighborhoods like yours because they’ve been there, they’re trapped there. If they see you as someone who’s lived in that world, kicked free and survived to grow stronger … that’s inspirational and empowering. It makes you a role model.”

She stood there, staring at him, her eyes wary. “It feels exactly like quitting.”

“It’s not. Gen, a good portion of the residents where I used to live stayed there because they were powerless to get away or change their circumstances. I was like that. Getting out empowered me and changed my life. It meant that I was taking control of the situation.”

Lucas didn’t miss the war taking place in Genevieve’s eyes. She wanted to take up his offer, but taking what she saw as the easy way out didn’t fit with her new life’s plan to be a strong woman. He was losing her.

As he’d lost others.

No. No. Strike that thought. Focus on the now, on taking charge, making things right. So, he fought his instincts, fought the urge to put his fist through something. In the past he would have done just that. But not now. Now he was all about control. Control was survival.

So he couldn’t stop. Not until he had made sure Genevieve was safe and until he’d restored the “no personal interest” parameters of their relationship and kicked free of his fascination with her. It was the only way he could continue to function with her, given his past. Given what he’d learned about Angie.

He ached to turn back time and save Angie, but he couldn’t. The only one he could save today was Genevieve. But he didn’t want to break her spirit. He couldn’t let the cost be too high.

Lucas cleared his throat, cleared his mind, focused on the key elements, on the truth. He knew how much she valued the truth.

“Genevieve, I won’t deny that I’m worried about you living in such a dangerous place, mostly because I know all about predators and the damage they do.” He glanced away. That was enough of that. She didn’t need to know more.

“But as I said, think about the good you could do if you became the first resident of Angie’s House. Your experiences these past few months would help you understand what these women, the future residents, have dealt with for years. The simple act of standing in their shoes could be very useful in your job.” His voice trailed off. There was nothing more that he could say. If she didn’t want to move here, if his arguments hadn’t convinced her, he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—try to force her.

For several seconds Genevieve said nothing. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was frowning. “You’re used to controlling your empire, aren’t you?”

Her voice sounded wistful, but she quickly rushed on. “I didn’t mean that quite the way it sounded.”

She stood there looking beaten. For a moment, Lucas wanted to take back everything he’d said even though all of it was true.

But he didn’t. He waited, hoping for a positive outcome. Eventually, she took a deep, visible breath and pushed her shoulders back in that way he’d seen her do when she was facing adversity. She plastered on a resigned smile. A small smile. “So, you think moving here will help me do my job better. Are you sure you’re not just giving me an easy way out?”

He couldn’t help himself then. He dropped his head and groaned. Then he laughed. “Gen, do you call the conversation we just had taking the easy way out?”

When he looked up, she was smiling. “I guess it was pretty uncomfortable. But let me ask you this. Why do you care where I live?”

“Why does it matter where you live?” Man, there was the tough question. Lucas wondered if he even understood all the reasons why. And he had no intention of examining his motives too closely. There certainly wasn’t a chance in hell that he would tell Genevieve about waking up in the night. Or about Angie or any of the rest.

Letting her know that he’d lived in poverty? That was common knowledge. The fact that he had pulled himself out of the gutter and become a success was part of what engendered respect among his peers and the public. But sharing more? No. He never let anyone in on the more intimate details of his life, especially those from his past.

“Beyond the reasons I’ve already given you,” he said. “Let’s just say that I can’t have my employees getting hurt. And think how bad it would look for Angie’s House if anyone thought that I paid my project manager so poorly that she had to live in a place where she needed six locks on her door.” He finished with a smile, trying to somehow turn this into something light and teasing. Because now he knew how much she longed for independence and pride, a need he understood all too well.

Genevieve tilted her head. “You’re very good at getting your way, aren’t you?”

Her voice was wistful. He felt as if he’d just manhandled a defenseless kitten. “I don’t like unpredictable situations, especially when they pertain to work,” he admitted.

“And this is work.” Her tone was questioning.

“Yes.” He wouldn’t let it be anything else.

“You’ll let me pay rent.”

“No.” Not when he was practically forcing her into this transition. Not when he needed her to make this change as much as she needed it.

But he could see she was going to object. “It’s work, remember?” he said. “Part of your job.”

She still didn’t look totally convinced, but finally she nodded. “Well, then. All right, Lucas. I’ll live in Angie’s House and I’ll try to make use of the extra hours I’ll be there to get more done.”

Lucas scowled at that. He controlled things but he didn’t overwork his employees. “Overtime isn’t necessary.”

Genevieve had a trapped look in her eyes. Her slender body trembled and she licked her lips nervously. Finally, she closed her eyes, then looked to the side, lifting her chin a bit imperiously. “I would like to ask you to reconsider that point at least. If I’m your project manager and my staying here is to set the reputation of Angie’s House and bring attention to it, then I should have some say in how things proceed, shouldn’t I? The goal of Angie’s House is to reenergize the spirit of the women who live here, you told me. So, as the first inhabitant … I would very much like to either pay rent or work overtime in order to feel that I am truly contributing and so that my spirit will be reenergized.”

She never raised her voice, but it was clear that if he said no, she would feel as if he didn’t value her service. And after the heavy-handed method he had used to get her to agree to this change …

Lucas swore beneath his breath. Okay, she had him over a barrel. He could push the issue, but … she was clearly a woman who had been misused, whose ego had been trampled. And he had sworn he’d never damage a fragile female again. It was another reason why he only dated women like Rita, women who were just as cold and calculating as he was.

Genevieve was nothing like Rita. She wasn’t cold enough, hard enough or experienced enough. In fact, he should never have hired her, but … letting her go would certainly damage her. She’d be out on the streets with nowhere to go. Now that he fully understood that …

“A little overtime would be all right,” he conceded. Because in the end he had gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? She would be safe. That meant he wouldn’t have to think about her anymore. From that moment on, the two of them would only be about the job.

But hours later he realized that moving her hadn’t totally solved the Genevieve problem. Vulnerable green eyes crept into his thoughts. He knew why, too. He owned Angie’s House. And even though he was staying in a high-rent hotel all the way across town, the truth was that Genevieve was now living, breathing and sleeping beneath his roof.

Right now she was probably lying in bed.

Lucas groaned. He tried not to think about Genevieve’s beautiful copper-colored hair spread out across a pillow or those long bare legs….

“Stop it. Don’t go there. Just … speed this up. Let’s get this done—finished—so you can walk away as you always do,” he whispered. It was a good plan. Two months from now, Genevieve Patchett would no doubt be back making the debutante rounds, and he would be far away. She would barely be a blip in his memory base.