Page 8 of Lucas

They absolutely meant to offend me. I whirl on her, weeks of stress and exhaustion boiling over. “Don’t be like what, exactly? Stuck up? Frigid? A killjoy?”

“Yeah, kind of. You used to be fun. We used to go out andlet loose. What happened to my party girl bestie?” She pouts at me.

“Your party girl bestie grew up and took over her family’s failing business, that’s what,” I say. “I’m not in college anymore, Michelle.”

“Wait. Failing?” She frowns. “I didn’t realize things were that bad. You never talk about work.”

“You never ask about work. About anything in my life. When was the last time you called me to do anything other than invite me to another rager that you know I’m going to decline?”

A hurt look flashes across her face. “Hey, that’s not fair. I’m trying here. Friendship is a two-way street, Ava. When was the last time you made an effort? Invited me to anything? Talked to me about anything real?”

“Invite you to what, exactly? The home I’m barely ever at because I’m working myself to the bone trying to keep my company afloat? Filling Father’s shoes when he’s the one who ran it into the ground in the first place?” Angry tears sting my eyes.

“Shit, Ava. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” She reaches out, but I jerk back.

“No, you didn’t. Because you never asked. You have no idea who I really am, the burdens I carry. We’re not kids anymore, Michelle. I can’t go to parties and pretend everything is fun and sunny.”

She recoils as if I’ve slapped her. “Message received, loud and clear. Sorry, I’m not on your level.”

She spins on her heel and stalks back into the party, slamming the door in my face. The sound reverberates through my bones.

I stand there for a long moment, shaking. What the hell was I thinking, coming here tonight?

Michelle is right. I don’t fit in anymore. I don’t fit in anywhere.

I’ve never felt more alone.

I stand in front of the restaurant, scanning the patrons seated at the tables. A couple, another couple, a young man, two women. None of them look like Peter Valeur, so I assume he hasn’t arrived yet.

Taking a deep breath, I pull the glass door open, my hand gripping the small black clutch that matches my off-the-shoulder red dress.

“Welcome to La Fontaine,” the hostess greets me with a warm smile as I step into the cool interior. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes, I’m meeting someone. Ava Gant, party of two,” I reply, straightening my spine and projecting an air of confidence I don’t quite feel.

She scans her list and nods. “Of course, right this way, Miss Gant. Your companion has already arrived.”

Already here? I follow her through the lit dining room, past the mahogany bar and toward the center tables.

I turn to thank her, but the words die in my throat when I catch sight of the man sitting there.

Lucas Valeur. With his smug smile, dark brown hair, chiseled features, and piercing blue eyes that seem to look right through me. He’s wearing a tailored charcoal suit that fits himlike a second skin, emphasizing his broad shoulders and trim waist.

“I’m sorry, I think there’s been some mistake,” I say. “I’m supposed to be meeting with Peter?—”

“Ava Gant, I presume?” His voice is a low, honeyed drawl that sends shivers skating down my spine. “Already having second thoughts?”

I wait for him to stand, but he doesn’t, so I sit and cross my legs. “Yes. I’m Ava Gant. I’m sorry, I was expecting your father.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You scheduled a business meeting and don’t know who you’re meeting with? I suppose that explains a lot about how your company operates.”

I feel pinned in place by the intensity of his stare.

“Lucas Valeur. Charmed.” He extends his hand across the table.

I ignore it. How rude of him not to even rise to greet me.

I followed Logan Valeur’s career trajectory closely. He seemed to be on the golden path to succeeding his father, but then Logan retired after the revelation that he was adopted. I hadn’t researched the other siblings, not expecting them to be relevant successors, so I know nothing about the other brothers.