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Lucian abandons his work, swiveling toward me while leaning back in his chair. I sit forward, elbows braced on my thighs as I prepare to answer any questions he may have.
“Who got there first?”
“I did.”
“And how long before Caleb and Joanna showed up?”
“About an hour.”
Lucian stares at the surface of his desk, his head slowly shifting side to side as he reaches for his glass, tossing back the remainder of scotch.
“Okay, yes,” I rush to explain, suddenly regretting my decision to seek forgiveness over permission, “I know that seems sketch, but it was a simple mix up of times. I swear to you, he didn’t try anything.”
“Doesn’t really matter if he did, does it?” He lifts his shoulder in a defeated shrug whilst staring into his now-empty glass. “Not like I can risk calling him out on anything without taking a bat to the face. What Nicky C. says, goes.”
“Luc.” My voice is saddened with a mixture of sympathy and regret as I stand, motioning around his desk. “I’m telling you, I’m not—” My sentence cuts out when my gaze is drawn down to a thin peach-colored scrap of fabric discarded on the floor. It’s twisted, the distorted shape offering the possibility it may not be what I think. However, any doubts are laid to rest when my foot juts forward, the toe of my shoe dragging it out from beneath his chair.
Underwear.
Women’s lace underwear.
I blink several times, mouth falling open as I struggle to form a response.
“Are you kidding me?” I ask incredulously. “You’re sitting here giving me shit about having dinner at Nicky’s house with our best friends while you’ve been here fucking some skank?!” I shove at him, his chair jerking backward when my hands make contact with his chest.
He shoots up, stepping into me to bump his chest with mine. “Stop acting like you give a shit where I stick my dick.”
“You stick it everywhere!” The scream tears from my throat, culminating in a frustrated cry as I swipe up the glass from his desk and hurl it toward the wall, watching it shatter upon impact. “You promised me. You promised me you were gonna try!”
“Like you have?!” he roars in my face. Lucian reaches for me, the action causing me to involuntarily flinch away. My response throws him, the unexpected evasion tempering the threat of his impending wrath. The anger fades from his face, his brows pulling down as he’s overcome with remorse.
“I may have stepped out on this relationship, Daphne, but the truth is you never even hopped in.” Reaching out, he drags his brown leather chair back toward him before dropping down with a defeated sigh. “Two years. I have spent two years living in that man’s shadow. You’ve never once looked at me the way you look at him.” He falls forward, his head hanging low in his hands. “You think I don’t know you, but I do. There was a time we used to talk to each other—actually talk. And you would tell me about the things you wanted in life. I know you want to be independent and stand on your own two feet. But I also know you want marriage and babies. I want those things, too. I want them with you.” Luc glances up at me, all pretenses suddenly wiped clear. “Just because I don’t show my love the way you want me to, doesn’t make what I feel any less real.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be loved the way you love me.”
He winces slightly at my words, standing to retrieve his suit jacket from the corner coat rack before slipping it on and making his way toward the door. He pauses at the threshold, his gaze peering out into the darkness. “I’m not perfect, Daphne. I won’t pretend to be, but the love I’m offering is real, and that’s a hell of a lot more than anything Nicky C.’s ever offered you.”
Lucian exits the office, leaving me to unravel as my body slowly sinks to the floor in defeat. Sniffling back any tears, I slip my hand into the back pocket of my jeans to withdraw my cell.
When I hit Call, I lie and tell myself it’s for closure—that I need to feel the sting of rejection one final time so I can move on.
I ignore the whispers of the hopeless romantic that I’ve long since buried deep. The one who clings to the dreams of a life where I’m worthy of his love. I shush the hope that blooms in my heart as the line begins to ring. The kind that makes me believe some part of him wants this too… wants me.
“Hello?” a feminine voice slurs, prompting me to glance down at the screen.
His name stares back at me, confirming I’ve called the right number. With trembling fingers, I hesitantly place the phone back to my ear.
“Hell—oh shit.” The mystery woman giggles. “This isn’t my phone. Is this yours?” She asks, addressing someone on her end.
“If it ain’t yours, then hang it up.” A deep voice sounds somewhere in the distance, pulling a strangled sob from my throat. “Come put your mouth back where it belongs.”
“Oh my God!” Her laughter rings out. “You’re such a—”
My thumb connects with the red circle, my eyes affixed to the wall as I effectively cut the call. An hour. I haven’t even been gone an hour, and he’s already got some girl on her knees for him.
Don’t cry. Don’t you dare fucking cry.
The tremors grow more persistent, coiling in my stomach before clawing their way up my throat. My grasp tightens around the phone, struggling to find purchase as the room tilts around me.
