Page 36 of Boss of the Year

“Still.” I sat up a little straighter. “I just had my first kiss, and it wasn’t even real.”

Lucas swore softly. “Look, there’s no shame in being innocent. And I doubt every twenty-something lives the way you described.”

“Even if you didn’t, IknowDaniel does.” I sniffed. “He’s aPage Sixregular. The life of every party. I should know—I’ve served him drinks and food at enough of them. Just like I also know he’s brought a different girl right here, to the conservatory, almost every time.”

“And tonight, you wanted that girl to be you.” Lucas didn’t sound particularly pleased by the idea.

“Something so wrong with me?” I couldn’t make myself look at him.

“Not even a little.” His reply was immediate. “Daniel, however, has the foresight of a fruit fly and a similar discernment.”

“So, he only likes me because I’m the newest piece of fruit?”

“If he does, he’s a fucking idiot.” Lucas took my hand and pulled me to face him. “Marie, the only reason I’m here is because I have to trust that he saw the same thing in you that everyone else did when you arrived.”

“And what’s that?”

Lucas’s mouth opened while his stare seemed to bore through me.

But no words came out. Nothing at all.

I swallowed. “That’s what I thought.”

He looked at me for a long time, like he wanted to say more. I found myself staring just as brazenly at him, daring him to speak.

In the end, he looked away first.

I wondered if he had ever done that before.

Lucas cleared his throat, then stood. “I, ah, I’m sorry that this evening didn’t go the way you planned, Marie. I’m sorry…for everything.”

His eyes met mine one last time, and I couldn’t move. There was something deep there. Something pained.

It was a flash. And then it was gone.

“I’ll also tell Daniel he needs to deliver his messages himself. Please accept my apologies. Again.”

He gave an awkward, abbreviated nod and offered his hand. Mine drifted up, and something in me relaxed as that broad, capable touch engulfed my fingers.

He squeezed, and my heart squeezed with him.

“Good night, Lucas,” I said quietly.

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

“Good night, sweet Marie.” His voice was a soft hum, like the rumble of a storm that hadn’t quite decided to leave the shore in peace.

Then he left.

And I was left with the rest of my kind. Another flower hugging the wall.

9

RATATOUILLE

*salt the zucchini or get a bowl of mush.

Loss hit me hard and fast as I opened the creaking metal gate in front of Lea’s little blue house a few blocks from Arthur Avenue. My arms were full of groceries for Lea and the meal I’d promised to prepare after finishing the week’s prep work at Prideview. It was Sunday, so all the staff had the evening off while the Lyoneses ate at their club. For the Zolas, that meant Sunday dinner in Belmont—this time at my sister’s house instead of our grandmother’s, like we’d done for years.