Page 159 of Boss of the Year

“Yes,” he admitted finally.

I couldn’t stop my flinch or the tears that kept flowing.

“At first it was,” he continued. “But Marie, by the time we got to London—no, by the time we went for a fucking walk in the park in Brazil—it was?—”

“It was what?” I surprised even myself with the new height of bitterness, to the point that I was actually starting to laugh. I felt insane. This whole situation wasinsane. “You developed real feelings for your little cook?—”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that?—”

“The shy virgin with social anxiety just happened to sweep you off your feet?—”

“I said don’t?—”

“And with her powers of charm and persuasion, you just couldn’t stop yourself from falling for her over the course of a matter of weeks?” I was full-on cackling now at the ridiculousness of the tale. “You fell for the assistant cook? The little no-name who’s been cleaning your rooms and doing your dishes and making your coffee for the last ten years?”

“YES!”

When I turned back, his chest was heaving like he’d just sprinted a mile. His eyes glistened, and his chiseled jaw shook with effort to regain control. He looked nothing like the composed, untouchable Lucas Lyons I’d always known.

“Yes,” he repeated. “Yes, to all of it. Yes, to everything. Yes, toyou, Marie.” He stepped toward me again, more slowly this time. “I meant what I said in London. From the moment you brought that soup to my brother. Christ, probably from the moment you first entered my fucking house, I have been yours, body and fucking soul.”

I was shaking now. He couldn’t be saying this. I couldn’t be hearing him right.

“You stole everything from me.” I couldn’t keep my voice from wobbling. “My first kiss. My first time. My first lo?—”

I cut myself off just in time and turned away to catch my breath as another sob shook through me. No. I would not give him that too.

“Your first what, sweetheart?” That deep voice was suddenly soft through the night. “What was the last thing I stole?”

A gentle hand on my shoulder slowly rotated me back toward him, then slid up my neck to cup my face. His thumb traced my cheekbone.

God, I could have basked in that heated gaze for the rest of my life.

Four days ago, I’d nearly asked him for just that. Allowed him to pin me to the bed, the counter, to anything he wanted. Allowed him to make me his.

Right before he told someone else that it was all just to get me out of the way.

Stupid, stupid girl.

So, I did the only thing I could think of to honor that girl and protect her.

I wrenched my face out of his grasp and punched Lucas Lyons in the gut as hard as I could.

He doubled over, gasping. “Jesus!”

“You don’t get that too,” I said while he wheezed. “You made your choice when you decided to lie to me, Lucas. So now, you need to let me go.”

“I told you,I can’t.” His voice shook, as labored as his breathing.

The pain I heard almost made me go back to him. Almost. But then I remembered the messages, the casual cruelty of being called a problem to be solved, and my resolve hardened.

“This is over,” I said firmly as I turned away. No stumble. No uneasy step. For the first time all night, I could see the world clearly, and that included my decision. “Consider this my formal notice,Mr. Lyons. Go back to New York. Be with someoneappropriate—you and Daniel both. Have the life your family wants for you.”

“What about the life I want for me?”

“You gave up the right to want things with me when you decided to tell me lies.”

I strode past him, toward the mouth of the alley and the promise of escape.