Page 71 of Lucas

“How is that not a threat?”

“Perhaps they meant it’s my turn to get a new car?” He shrugs and smiles. “There’s no way to tell.”

I let out a snort of laughter.

We pull into the garage beneath Valeur Tower and I note that Lucas parks the Porsche in his usual spot. The one clearly marked with his name and title.

I place my hand on his arm. “Maybe you should park somewhere else? Just for today?”

He puts the car in park and turns to face me fully, one dark brow arched. “And why would I do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you just told me someone keyed a vague yet menacing threat into your car? Call me crazy, but it seems like tempting fate to park in your designated spot when you know you’re being targeted.”

“Careful, Wifey, that almost sounded like concern.” The ghost of a smile plays at the edges of his mouth, a bare quirk at the corner.

“Don’t call me that,” I snap, but my heart’s not in it. “And no, I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about the car. It’d be a shame for a pretty little Porsche to get caught in the crosshairs of whatever pissing contest you’ve got going on.”

The smile widens, a quick flash of even white teeth. Butterflies erupt in my stomach, a frisson of heat chasing down my spine. Damn him and his beautiful, infuriating face.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” He reaches out, tucking an errant curl behind my ear. His fingers linger, the rough pad of his thumb tracing the hinge of my jaw.

I jerk back as if scalded, skin burning where he touched me. “I’m not lying,” I mutter, but the protest rings false even to my ears.

He hums a low, noncommittal sound, his gaze heavy on my face. I fight the urge to squirm under the weight of that stare, to bare my throat in submission or bolt from the car entirely.

The moment spins out, taut and charged. My hand twitches with the sudden, mad urge to reach for him. To smooth the furrow between his brows and trace the stubborn set of his jaw. To feel the warmth of his skin, the drum of his pulse beneath my fingertips.

It terrifies me, this need to touch him. To stake a claim on something I shouldn’t want.

I need to run.

I fumble for the door, desperate to put some distance between us. “As fun as this has been, some of us have actual work to do. You know, empires to run, meetings to chair, lowly peons to crush under our thousand-dollar heels. You understand.”

I twist out of the car before he can reply, his stare on my back like a brand between my shoulder blades as I beat a hasty retreat toward the elevator.

My phone beeps.

Michelle

Remember we made lunch plans today?

Fuck. Of course, I forgot.

I need to cancel. I’m notfeeling well…

My thumb hovers over the send button, hesitating. It’s the third time I’ve canceled on her. She won’t believe me. She wants to hear gossip about Lucas and my married life. Better to get it over with.

Yeah, sure. Let’s meet near my office. I don’t have much time.

Michelle

Sure. You and your husband work at the same place, right? Bring him too, I still haven’t met him besides a quick hello at the wedding.

Shit. Now she wants Lucas to come too?

He’s busy.

I step out of the elevator and stride toward my office.