Page 98 of A Win-Win Situation
Take it back.
Say that you didn’t mean it.
Please.
As quickly as the regret appears, he masks it behind a stoic facade. His features harden, and the regret retreats, leaving only a trace of longing in his eyes. I wonder if it's too late to mend the damage this fight caused, but not a single word leaves his lips. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes, but I hold them back, refusing to let him see how deeply he has wounded me.
I push myself past him and walk to my room. This time, he doesn't stop me.
THIRTY-FIVE
LEORA
Iwake up feeling exhausted. Lucas’s words and my lies were haunting me in my sleep. I have to tell him the truth, but his words still hurt. So, instead of starting the conversation we need to have, I decide to go down to the café next to our apartment for a coffee and something sweet to calm my nerves before opening the discussion again.
When I leave my room, I’m met by Lucas sitting at the kitchen island, his head tilted toward the ceiling. He turns his face towards me and it doesn’t look like he slept much either. His face is etched with exhaustion and the hint of remorse is back. Our eyes meet, and a heavy silence hangs in the air. His lips are slightly parted, hinting at the words he wants to say, but the tension between us keeps him quiet. He knows that I lied; he told me he called Camille, and she told him I wasn’t with her. I’m in the wrong for lying but his words cut deep and I need some space before opening up the discussion. But even so, seeing him like this—almost broken—hurts. It’s my fault he didn’t get any sleep. It’s my fault he’s upset, and the feeling of guilt gnaws at me.
"I'm going to Jean Paul's. Do you want anything?" I ask, reaching my hand out. He adores their pain au chocolat and I can’t for the life of me go there without getting him one.
He stills, his back going rigid, and the broken look in his eyes is completely gone. "Who the fuck is Jean Paul?" Rage and a hint of something else—possessiveness, maybe—simmer behind his black eyes.
"I'm sorry?" I ask, trying to keep my voice calm.
It only takes him two seconds to get out of his chair and to eat up the distance between us. "Who. The. Fuck. Is. Jean. Paul?"
I let out a little laugh, unable to control myself. Lucas's eyes widen even further, his confusion evident on his face.
"Jean Paul’s"—I emphasise the "s"—"is the name of the cafeteria down the street."
He doesn't calm down in the slightest. I turn to walk away, but he catches up with me and twists me around, his hand gently gripping my bicep. His eyes are still burning with anger and his chest is heaving with each breath he takes.
"I don't believe you, Leora," he growls, his voice dark. I didn’t think it was possible but he’s even more furious today.
"Where were you yesterday?" His subject change catches me off guard.
"I told you, I was working and lost track of time."
"Let’s try that again." He challenges. "Where were you yesterday, Leora?" My name on his tongue feels like a threat, a promise of something deliciously dangerous to come.
"Thetruththis time," he persists, voice low and menacing as he takes a few steps toward me, making me walk back until my back collides with something solid. His arms cage me against the wall.
His body presses closer, flush up against mine, making it difficult to concentrate on anything other than him. Or his smell. Why does he smell so damn good? I can’t think clearly with himthis close, his scent all around me—consuming me. He smells like a man who’s embraced his masculinity, a tantalizing blend of earth and untamed nature.
"Who gave you that bruise?" His gaze flickers down to my wrist, his finger following his perusal. He caresses the marks gently, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
"I, um, I bumped into a table. It’s nothing," I say, feeling my cheeks heat up.
I can see the look of disappointment in his eyes, and it makes me feel incredibly guilty.
"A table, hmm? I don’t know who you think I am Leora, but if I want to find something out, I will."
The blood drains from my face as I struggle to find the right words to say. But before I can attempt to explain myself, he continues speaking. "I know where you were yesterday. You went to see that ex of yours."
My eyes widen as I hear the accusation in his voice. How could he have known? I had been careful, but it seemed that Lucas was one step ahead of me. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. Caught in the silence, I struggle to find an explanation that could undo the damage already done
"Don't try to lie to me, Leora," he snarls, pinning me with a hard glare. "I have eyes and ears everywhere."
My mind races, trying to come up with an explanation, but I know it's no use. I can see the anger and hurt hidden behind his words, and I break. I do what I should have done yesterday—I confess.
