Page 19 of Lucas (The Valeur Billionaires #2)

Chapter Thirteen

AVA

I wake up early to get ready to return to the office. I’m not happy about the fact that now I have to get up two hours earlier to drive to the city, but it is what it is.

I put on a cream wrap dress and a thin gold belt, the fabric hugging my curves, and slip into gold high heels that glint in the morning light. Pearl earrings and a delicate necklace complete the look, adding a touch of elegance.

Over the past two weeks, the offices of Gant Construction were moved to the Valeur building, and today I’m starting my first day in the new place.

It’s hard to say I’m looking forward to it when every time Lucas and I are in the same room together, we can’t even exchange three words without exploding into a heated argument.

Ready, I stride to the front door, where Lucas stops me, his tall frame blocking my path. He’s dressed in a tailored suit with a blue tie that accentuates his piercing eyes. His dark hair is still damp from the shower, and he looks like sin incarnate.

Fucking sin that I don’t want to know.

“You weren’t at breakfast,” he says, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

“I’m eating at the office,” I reply, trying to sidestep him, but he moves with me, staying in my way.

“Wait. I’ll drive you. We work in the same building now.” His tone is casual, but I can see the challenge in his eyes, daring me to refuse.

I meet his gaze head-on, lifting my chin. “I’d rather crawl on my belly all the way to the office than be trapped in a confined space with you. So thanks, but no thanks.”

Something flashes in his eyes, dark and heated. “Careful what you wish for, darling. Keep putting images like that in my head, and I might just take you up on it.”

Shit. I walked right into that one.

Flustered, I push past him, ignoring the way my skin tingles where we touch. “In your dreams, Valeur.”

“Every night,” he calls after me, laughter in his voice.

Face burning, I quicken my pace, desperate to put some distance between us before I do something stupid, like turn around and wipe that smug grin off his face with my lips.

No. Bad Ava. Do not go there.

Flustered and off-balance, I stride out into the entrance courtyard, the small gravel stones making it difficult to walk in my high heels.

I’m forced to slow my pace so as not to twist an ankle or ruin my expensive shoes, and before I know it Lucas’s footsteps are behind me, crunching on the gravel, and I know he’s following me even though he could easily outpace me at the speed I’m moving.

He must be enjoying watching me struggle, laughing at my discomfort.

“Fuck!” I curse as my heel catches on a large stone, and I stumble, losing my balance. I brace myself for the impact, for the painful scrape of gravel against my palms and knees.

But the impact never comes.

Instead, muscular arms wrap around my waist from behind, hauling me back against a solid chest.

Lucas’s chest.

For a moment, we’re frozen like that, my back pressed to his front, his heartbeat thundering against my spine. I’m very aware of every place we touch—the spread of his large hand against my stomach, the brush of his thighs against the backs of mine, the hot, damp puff of his breath against my ear.

With a shaky exhale, I try to step out of his hold, but his arms only tighten around me.

“Let go of me,” I grit out, hating the breathy, needy quality of my voice.

He releases me, holding his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender. “You were about to faceplant on the gravel. I was just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help,” I snap, glaring at him as I smooth my dress, trying to regain my composure.

He runs his tongue over his perfect white teeth, a gesture that’s somehow both infuriating and sexy as hell. “Fine. Forgive me for giving a damn about my wife’s well-being. Won’t happen again.”

“I’m not your real wife,” I rasp, jabbing a finger into his chest. “This is a business arrangement, nothing more. The sooner you get that through your thick skull, the better off we’ll both be. ”

Something flashes in his eyes, there and gone too quickly to decipher. “Oh, I’m very aware of the terms of our arrangement, Wifey. Believe me, I’m counting down the days until I’m rid of you.”

“Not if I get rid of you first,” I mutter under my breath, turning on my heel and stalking to my red Jeep.

I yank open the door and climb inside, slamming it shut behind me. The sound echoes in the quiet morning air, punctuating the simmering tension between us.

Through the windshield, I see Lucas standing there, watching me, his hands shoved in his pockets and his jaw clenched tight. For a moment, our eyes meet, and the air crackles with the force of our mutual loathing.

God, I hate him. I hate the way he gets under my skin, the way he can rile me up with just a few choice words and that sexy smirk.

I hate that even now, with anger burning in my veins and vicious retorts on the tip of my tongue, a traitorous part of me still wants him.

Still craves the heat of his touch, the taste of his kiss.

I start the engine, the powerful vibrations beneath me oddly soothing, and hit the gas. The car leaps forward, gravel spraying.

Lucas is right there, directly in my path.

I press down harder on the accelerator, my heart pounding, my blood singing with a dark, vicious thrill.

He stands his ground, staring me down, his blue eyes wide and startled. For a split second, I think he’s going to let me hit him, but at the last moment, he dives to the side, landing hard on the gravel and rolling as I speed past.

Even with the windows up, I hear him shouting, an inarticulate roar of fury and disbelief. “Fuck, Ava! Are you trying to kill me?”

I glance in the rearview mirror and get a glimpse of him picking himself up off the ground, his immaculate suit dusty and disheveled. He waves his fists at my retreating car, his handsome face contorted with rage, and I laugh. Serves him right, the arrogant bastard.

When I pull into the parking garage of the Valeur building more than an hour later, I’m exhausted, my nerves frayed, and my temples throbbing.

The long commute, coupled with the unexpected detour I had to take to avoid an accident, has me running late on my first day back.

Not the stellar impression I was hoping to make.

I use my new access card to enter the underground lot, the barrier lifting with a soft beep, and start searching for my assigned parking spot.

I cruise past the sections reserved for upper management, noting with a twinge of annoyance that Lucas’s sleek black Jaguar is already parked in its designated place.

I circle the lot, growing more frustrated by the minute. There’s no spot with my name on it. No reserved place for Ava Valeur or Ava Gant. I even drive to the very back of the garage, just to be sure I didn’t miss it, but it’s not there.

There isn’t a single open spot in the entire crowded lot.

Fighting the urge to scream, I pull out my phone and call my assistant. She picks up on the second ring, her voice bright and chipper. “Good morning, Mrs. Valeur! Welcome back. What can I do for you?”

I squint at my new name. “Bridget, I’m in the parking garage, and I can’t seem to find my assigned spot. Could you check with facilities and see what number I am? Maybe they forgot to put up my sign.”

“Oh, um...one moment, please.” I hear her tapping away at her keyboard, the clacking of the keys loud over the line. Then the typing stops, replaced by a muffled conversation I can’t quite make out.

My stomach sinks as the seconds drag on, a terrible suspicion taking root. Finally, she comes back on the line, her voice higher than usual, strained. “Mrs. Valeur? I’m so sorry, but it looks like... It looks like there’s no parking spot assigned to you in the system.”

My fingers tighten around the phone. “What do you mean, no spot assigned? That’s impossible. How could they forget to allocate a space for the CEO? Where am I supposed to park? Everything here is full.”

“I don’t know.” Bridget sounds as baffled as I feel. “It must be a mistake. Would you like me to contact HR and try to sort this out?”

I close my eyes, take a deep breath and count to ten. “No, that’s alright. I’ll handle it. Thank you, Bridget.”

I end the call and lean my forehead against the steering wheel, trying to think past the red haze of anger clouding my mind. This is no mistake. This has Lucas Valeur’s fingerprints all over it. He must have excluded me from the parking allocations as some petty form of revenge.

Well, two can play that game.

I throw the Jeep into reverse, tires screeching as I peel out and speed back toward the executive section of the garage. When I reach Lucas’s parking space, I brake hard, jolting to a stop mere inches from the shining black bumper of his prized car .

Jumping out, I stalk to the back of my vehicle and yank open the rear door, rummaging through the mess of emergency supplies until my fingers close around the thick nylon coil of tow rope.

My lips curve into a vicious smile as I loop one end around my trailer hitch and march toward the Jag, the heavy rope trailing behind me like a vengeful snake. It’s probably wrong of me to take such visceral satisfaction in what I’m about to do, but I’m beyond caring.

He started this.

I crouch down and feed the rope under his rear axle, making quick work of the knot. The blue-collar skills I picked up from years of working on construction sites with my father are finally coming in handy, it seems. Straightening, I give the rope a hard tug, testing the strength of my handiwork.

Perfect.

With a last, almost fond pat to the Jaguar’s gleaming hood, I hop back into my Jeep and shift into drive.

Inch by inch, I drag the luxury sports car out of its spot and into the center of the garage.

Petty? Absolutely.

Satisfying as hell? Oh, you better believe it.

I grin like a madwoman as I untie the rope and coil it back into my trunk, surveying my handiwork with the air of a job well done. Let’s see what Mr. High and Mighty Lucas Valeur has to say about this.

Whistling cheerfully, I slide into his now-vacant spot, kill the engine, and gather my things.

With a renewed sense of energy, I walk to the elevator bank, gesturing to the car stuck in the middle of the garage with my middle finger.

Catch me if you can, asshole.