Page 32 of A Win-Win Situation
"Hi, fiancé," Leora greets me with a sarcastic tone.
I immediately point to the shiny object on her ring finger. "What is that, Leora?"
"Oh, this thing? It's the engagement ring you bought me. Isn't it cute?" She smiles as she brings her hand up, showing off the ring.
"It would be cute if I could see it," I retort, feeling the familiar knot start to build in my stomach. No one can see her wearing a ring like that. She’s going to ruin everything before it even starts.
My irritation grows when she doesn’t answer. "I'm waiting for you to pull out the real one."
She seems unfazed by my frustration. "It seems this ring is doing wonders to your ego."
I try to maintain my composure. "Leora, you need to buy another ring. I told you to get a good one."
"Well,Lucas, you weren’t the one buying the ring and I like this one—it's simple," she insists.
"Keep the same design but make it bigger. That ring on your finger looks to be less than half a carat," I counter.
"That’s because it’s point-two carats," she corrects me. I want to drag that ring off her finger and throw it out the window.
"Even worse," I snap.
"Lucas, the ring is not going to be the dealbreaker. If anything will, it's your behavior."
This back-and-forth is unfamiliar to me, and I'm not sure how to respond. Typically, people don’t challenge my decisions or engage in such ridiculousness. It's as if the usual script I'm accustomed to is being rewritten, and I find myself navigating uncharted territory.
"Leora, just go exchange the ring for another one you like, but bigger," I say through gritted teeth. "Or I'll send Camille to pick one out for you."
"You're such a control freak, and it’s not a good look on you." She sneers as she places the bag on my desk. "I'm not getting a new ring, and I think what you meant to say was . . ." She stands taller, her hands on her hips, before she starts talking, in a mocking tone. "Thank you so much for getting the wedding bands, Leora. Thank you for also buying yourself the engagement ringIshould have bought. I mean, it’s the least I could do after being an asshole." With that, she turns around and heads towards the door. My eyes immediately go to her round ass. At least I have something nice to stare at.
Deep breaths Lucas, you aren’t married yet and you can’t scare her away.
"My uncle wants to take us for dinner. Be ready at six," I say as I try to calm myself down.
"Yes sir," she salutes me over her shoulder.
I stare at the door as it shuts behind Leora. I haven’t been this frustrated with a person in a long time and that’s saying something. She bought that ring with the sole purpose of going against my request. It's like she's daring me to call her out on it—almost as if she enjoys pushing my buttons. And yet, even with how much she drives me crazy, there's something about her that draws me in.
Maybe it's the way she carries herself, or the fire in her eyes. Or maybe it's the way she challenges me, refusing to be controlled. Whatever it is, I can't deny that I find myself thinking about her more often than I'd like to admit.
After a grueling sessionat the gym—my attempt at cooling down after my discussion with Leora—I make my way back home. My penthouse apartment overlooks the beach and the city, offering a breathtaking view. I grab a cold bottle of water from the kitchen and take a long sip, relishing the refreshing taste. As I look out the floor-to-ceiling windows that stretch from here to the living room, I feel a sense of peace wash over me. I take another long drink, feeling the cool liquid soothe my parched throat, before I make my way to my bedroom. The muted gray and blue tones create a soothing atmosphere, and the king sized bed dominates the room, inviting me to rest.
But the true gem of my bedroom is the balcony overlooking the ocean. As I step outside, I feel a gentle breeze caress my skin, carrying the salty scent of the ocean. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore is a symphony for my ears, and all my worries and stress fade away. It's my favorite part of the apartment—a sanctuary within a sanctuary.
Will Leora like it?
My own thoughts surprise me. I've never been one to fret over someone's opinion so much. Leora's a tempest herself—a whirlwind of opinions, and a force that seems unstoppable. She challenges me, questions me, and for some reason, that's unsettlingly attractive. Every jab, every witty retort serves a purpose. But I've seen enough in life to know that letting someone in, and allowing them to get to know you, often leads to pain. And I've had my fair share of that, which is why I won’t be letting her in.
Still, the thoughts gnaw at me.Will she be comfortable? Will she feel at home? Will she warm up to me?
It's not like I care about her approval—not really. The arrangement is what it is, and we both know it. We're bound by a contract that has nothing to do with emotions. But her comfort, strangely, matters to me in a way I'm not ready to admit.
I've spent a lifetime perfecting the art of detachment, keeping everyone at arm's length; everyone except for my uncle and Liam. It's how I've survived and maintained control. Leora, though, she's like a chink in my armor, a crack that lets the light in. And it both infuriates and intrigues me.
I shake my head, dismissing the thoughts as I stand up. This apartment is just another piece in the elaborate puzzle that is our arrangement.
I head to the ensuite bathroom and step into the glass-enclosed shower. When I finally step under the hot water, I let out a groan of relief as I wash away the tension. I lather up my body wash, enjoying the way the scent fills the room. Before I get the chance to relax, Leora pops up in my mind and all I see is her ass in those jeans. My body reacts immediately, and I push away the urge to touch myself to thoughts of her. Instead, I turn the lever to cold and stand under the freezing water, cursing her. The shock jolts me out of my thoughts.
Why can’t I get her out of my damn mind?
