Page 36 of Lucas

Beautiful. Elegant. Sexy.

I know our guests were impressed. She’s a suitable choice for me, and there’s no reason for anyone to doubt the authenticity of our marriage. Her trembling like a leaf was the only telling sign, but that could certainly be explained by excitement.

I begin opening the hooks, one by one, and her skin is revealed to me, white and smooth and so tempting. I linger on each movement, my thumb grazing her skin, even though I know I shouldn’t.

Fuck, this was a mistake. Doing this, touching her, while I’m naked and already half-crazed with wanting her. I grow harder by the second, my body tightening with need.

Down, Junior.

I try to distract myself, to think of anything else. Quarterly reports. The Hong Kong deal. The sound of my bank account growing. Baseball stats. Fuck, even reciting multiplication tables. Geometry. Triangles. Circles. Balls. Dick.Shit.

Nothing works. Every small sound she makes, every shiftof her body, pulls me right back into the moment, into the overwhelming reality of her.

This is torture. Pure, exquisite torture. And I can’t take much more of it.

I’m a breath away from throwing her on the bed, consequences be damned when she lets out a breathy little sigh.

I step away, putting some much-needed distance between us before I do something we’ll both regret. I scan the room, my eyes landing on a pair of scissors on the desk.

Striding over, I snatch them up and return to her, determination quickening my steps.

She must hear me coming because she turns. “What are you doing?” Her eyes widen as they land on the scissors in my hand. Her lips part, pink and lush, begging to be claimed.

I don’t answer. I can’t. If I open my mouth now, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop the flood of filthy promises from spilling out. Promises of all the ways I want to wreck her, ruin her for anyone else.

Instead, I grasp the fabric of her dress at the top, the fragile material bunching in my fist. And then, with one swift, decisive motion, I cut. The sounds of ripping fabric and her startled gasp fill the air as I slice through the dress from neck to hem, the scissors gliding through the delicate lace and satin like a hot knife through butter.

She’s not wearing underwear. My lips part as I see the curve of her ass, round and perfect, exposed to my eyes.

And I’ve lost the game.

A strangled sound escapes me, something between a groan and a growl. I’m seconds away from losing the fragile grip on my control.

Ava yelps, grabbing the fabric and pulling it up to coverherself. She’s still facing away from me, unaware of what’s happening with me down south, and I’m glad. I prefer she doesn’t see how she affects me.

“What did you do?” she gasps, her voice breathless and shaky.

“You wanted the dress off. I took it off.” I barely recognize my voice. It’s so low and rough with restraint. “I don’t have the patience to spend all night on these damn hooks. It’s not like you’ll ever wear it again anyway.”

I take a step toward her, my eyes raking over her, taking in every revealed inch of smooth skin. “Now, I suggest you leave. I need to get some sleep, and I can’t do that with you here, looking like a fucking wet dream come to life.”

Her mouth drops open, her eyes flashing with emotions—shock, outrage, and buried beneath it all, the unmistakable heat of arousal. For a long, charged moment, we stare at each other, the air between us crackling with tension and unspoken desires.

And then she’s gone, clutching the tatters of her dress to her body as she flees the room, the door slamming shut behind her with a resounding bang.

I head to the sunroom for breakfast. As I exit the hallway, I glance toward Ava’s wing, wondering if she’s awake. Should I invite her to eat with me?

I don’t know how to navigate this new situation, having her here in my space. I’ve never lived with a woman before, never had to consider anyone else’s needs or desires in myhome. It’s unsettling, this intrusion into my carefully crafted solitude.

I can’t let myself forget what she is, who she is. A Gant, the enemy. Sure, I’m attracted to her. I’d have to be blind and dead not to be. But that’s all it is, all it can ever be. Just physical attraction, a biological response.

If I let myself see her as anything more, let myself befriend her, it will only make what I have to do that much harder, and I can’t afford any weakness, any cracks in my armor. Not when I’m this close to getting revenge. At the end of our contract, she’ll be left with nothing.

That’s not my problem. She’s a Gant. They shouldn’t have cheated and stolen from us if they didn’t want to face the consequences.

I scroll through the congratulatory messages on my phone, yawning and stretching as I enter the sunroom. The day is bright, and the transparent roof is dimmed to avoid glare.

Ava.