Page 73 of A Win-Win Situation
I know a little bit about her ex, the one who cheated on her. I did some research myself after our argument. The guy is a singer-songwriter according to his social media. He's got a group of adoring fans he likes to call his "angels." His songs are clichés, filled with cringe-worthy lyrics and his performances are often more about spectacle than substance.
He’s a joke, a walking punchline.
As much as I dislike the guy, it seems more realistic that he lost Leora, rather than managing to make a woman like her fall in love with him. I can’t wrap my head around it.
Leora deserves so much more. She deserves someone who appreciates her, someone who lives to keep the smiles on her face and someone who cherishes every aspect of who she is. Someone like . . . The thought crosses my mind, considering if I could be the one to take care of her. However, a lingering doubt persists. Deep down, I question if I would ever truly deserve her.
I glance at her, my eyes meeting hers. "I’m all ears if you ever want to talk or if you want me to send him a message."
She laughs at my comment, raising an eyebrow "As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll let the universe handle him. But thanks for offering, "
"Of course, anytime. And if you ever need a partner in crime for some good old-fashioned revenge plotting, you know where to find me."
Leora's laughter fills the room, and for a moment, the weight of her past heartbreak seems a little lighter. We may not be able to change the past, but we can certainly make the present a little brighter.
Later,I decide to meet up with Estelle Lavigne. She took over her seat at the board after her husband passed away. But she's more than just a stakeholder; she's one of the few with a heart. Her late husband, my uncle's first investor and best friend, left a void that she's been trying to fill ever since. I grew up with both of them around, so getting her on my side in this upcoming vote, won’t be hard.
"Lucas," she calls out from her office, looking up as I approach. She's in her early sixties, and her timeless elegance radiates from every carefully chosen detail of her appearance. Her silver hair, impeccably styled, frames a face that has weathered the years with grace and wisdom.
"Estelle," I greet her with a nod as I step inside, before her arms envelop me.
She gestures for me to take a seat. "It's been a while. How have you been, dear?"
"I've been managing," I reply, settling into the chair. "Especially with everything that’s going on."
She nods in understanding, her eyes reflecting a genuine concern. "You know your uncle is very proud of the way you've handled things. He believes in you."
"I appreciate that, Estelle. It means a lot," I say, genuinely touched by her words. "But I need your help. Michel is stirring up trouble, and I can't afford to lose this vote."
Her expression turns serious, and she leans in slightly. "I'll do whatever I can, Lucas. I might be able to talk with Duval, to see where his mind is at. But you should reach out to Grimaldi; I think he’s the one that will be manipulated by Michel the most."
She’s right—Marc Duval and Louis Grimaldi are the closest to Michel, their loyalty making them potential targets for his manipulations. Which is why I have to get to them first.
She then shifts the conversation back to personal matters, "How's Leora handling everything? Being the wife of a man in such a challenging position can't be easy."
I sigh, "She's been great, always supporting me. I can't ask for a better partner."
Estelle gives me a warm smile. "Marriage is a partnership, Lucas. You need to take care of each other, especially during challenging times." She pats my hand reassuringly. "I’m sorry I missed the reception, but your uncle showed me photos. She’s a beauty."
She's the most beautiful woman I've laid my eyes on.A small, unconscious smile tugs at my lips. Little do I realize, Estelle catches this moment of unguarded happiness.
"I'm happy for you," Estelle says. "Your parents would be proud."
Her words hit a chord, and I pause. Would they be proud if they knew the truth?
"Thank you, Estelle."
TWENTY-SIX
LEORA
Time moves slowly when I'm with him. I can't quite explain how or why, but I’m enjoying it. As the first month passed, I would say we’ve become good friends, and I truly appreciate him—in all ways. I especially appreciate his dedication to keeping his body in shape. I have to remind myself that we're just friends, however, sometimes those platonic feelings for him tip towards lust. I can't help it; he's incredibly attractive, and his body is on another level of hot.
But it seems that my body doesn't understand what the meaning of "friends" is because when I see his arms, my brain starts envisioning him holding me, and I grow flustered. When I see his back, my brain thinks about the way my nails could run down it while he’s on top of me.
His hands make me think dirty thoughts, and it always ends up with me running to my bedside table to put my artillery to use. My body and brain have needs, and I’m only here to try to please them.
It’s only lust, so I have moments of weakness when I entertain the idea that we should just go for it, enjoy the time we have together, and reap the benefits. I have a feeling he thinks about me in those terms as well. I’ve caught him looking at mylegs when I’m wearing my sleep shorts, or how his eyes will linger on my lips occasionally. I even saw him rearranging his erection one day when I was doing yoga in the living room.
