Page 21 of Lucas (The Valeur Billionaires #2)

Chapter Fifteen

LUCAS

T he morning sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the sunroom, casting a warm, golden glow.

Ava walks in and pauses by Hugo, placing a hand on his arm as she leans in to exchange a few quiet words. He smiles and nods, then slips out of the room, leaving us alone.

An irrational surge of jealousy tightens my gut. I don’t like their easy conversations, the way she touches him.

What the hell is wrong with me? Hugo has been a loyal employee for over a decade. I trust him. There’s no reason for me to bristle at his interaction with my wife.

My wife. The words still feel strange on my tongue, unfamiliar and weighty.

Ava turns to me, her gaze zeroing in on the angry red scratches marring my throat. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth as she saunters over, sliding into the chair across from me.

“Rough sex?” she asks, arching a brow.

I reach up to adjust my collar, trying to hide the evidence of my humiliating altercation with her feathered friend. “You know very well where these scratches came from. Your little monster did this.”

“He’s not a monster.” She reaches for the pot of coffee and pours herself a cup. The rich, aromatic scent fills the air, mingling with her light floral perfume. “You’re the one who tried to steal him. What did you expect? And don’t worry, I don’t plan on invoking the infidelity clause.”

She’s wearing a tailored white suit with black trim and looks like a million dollars. Contrary to what she thinks, I very much like the way she dresses. Sexy and restrained. Tailored and elegant. As if she stepped out of some 1940s Hollywood movie.

“I’m not worried.” I stretch and sip my coffee. “You’ll never have a reason to invoke that clause. Like I told you, cheating is a red line for me.”

She takes off her jacket and drapes it over the chair beside her. Her pink lace bra peeks out from under the semi-sheer blouse she’s wearing.

Fuck. I shift in my seat, my pants uncomfortably tight. I’m grateful for the heavy drape of the tablecloth hiding my lap from view.

Maybe I was too hasty to let the stylist purchase dresses for her without considering her taste. I wouldn’t object to more of this.

She gives me a curious look, her green eyes glinting in the morning light. “Yes, you said that. It seems you have something personal with the issue. Did someone cheat on you in the past?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. No one has cheated on me.” I don’t stay in relationships long enough for that to happen. Once I conquer them, I’m gone. I have no interest in being manipulated.

“So what is it, then?” She rests her chin on her hand.

“Nothing. I just don’t like cheating, that’s all.”

“Yeah, right,” she mutters. “You don’t have to tell me, but please don’t treat me like an idiot and lie to me.”

I grind my teeth together. “Are we still at war?”

“War?” She raises her head, her lips parting.

I could get up, go to her, and lay her on this table right now. Spread her legs and teach her a lesson. “Yes. War. You towed my car to the middle of the parking lot. Remember?”

She shrugs. “You didn’t allocate a parking spot in the building for me, and I had nowhere to park. I had to improvise.”

“All this over a parking spot?”

“The offices moved a week prior. It’s clear you deliberately delayed the allocation.”

“Deliberately? You think I deal with such things myself? I have an office manager who does all the administrative work. Might I remind you I was here at home with you all week? She probably missed it, an innocent mistake.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“No. But then, I suppose you don’t really care.”

“I don’t care?” I get up and walk over to her, placing my hands on the armrests of her chair and leaning down so that her face is close to mine.

“Careful. I could make you a woman from this distance.” She lowers her gaze.

I glance down in the same direction to see her knee bent and close to my crotch. “Are you threatening me?”

“Always.” She raises her eyebrows, her lips stretching into a smile that challenges me.

Fuck. I’m enjoying this far more than I should. Sparring with her, verbally and otherwise, is becoming a dangerous addiction.

I lean in even closer until her rapid breath is against my lips. “Wifey,” I murmur, pitching my voice low and intimate. “I told you, if you want me to touch you, you’ll have to ask. Nicely.”

“Don’t call me Wifey.” She draws in a shuddering breath, her cheeks flushing pink. “And you’ll have to wait forever.”

I grin, feeling a thrum of victory. She’s not unaffected, no matter how much she tries to hide it. “Oh, Wifey. That will only make it sweeter when you finally beg for it.”

Her eyes flash. “You’re the devil in disguise.”

“I don’t see a problem here.” I smile and straighten to my full height.

“You’re sick.”

“Maybe. But what does that make you?” I let my gaze linger on her hardened nipples, visible even through her clothing. Betraying her. It’s warm and cozy in the room.

She crosses her arms over her chest, and my smile widens.

I clear my throat, forcing a note of casualness into my voice. “Well, since we’re stuck with each other for the foreseeable future, maybe we should try to find some common ground. Get to know each other a little better.”

She eyes me like a gazelle sensing a predator in the grass. “And how do you propose we do that?”

“How about a game of truth or dare?” The words slip out before I can stop them, hanging in the air between us like a challenge.

Her brows shoot up to her hairline. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Truth or dare. We each take turns asking a question or issuing a challenge. No lies, no backing down. Just pure honesty.”

She stares at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable, but I can see the gears turning behind those brilliant green eyes, weighing the risks and rewards of engaging with me in this way.

“Do you want to play or not? I promise whatever is said between us will stay between us. Or are you too chicken?”

“Okay, fine. Truth,” she says.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve done at work?” I lift my coffee cup and find it empty. Ugh. I debate whether to have another one.

She lowers her gaze, fidgeting with her fingers.

For a moment, I think she’s not going to answer me, but then she speaks.

“I lied to an employee,” she whispers. “I told him I would look into getting him a raise, even though I knew we didn’t have the budget for it. I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on his face. He works so hard, and he deserves so much better than what I can give him.”

She falls silent, her confession hanging heavy in the air between us. I’m stunned by the raw vulnerability in her voice, the obvious pain and guilt that laces her words.

In that moment, she looks so young. Lost. Like a little girl playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes, trying to fill shoes that are far too big for her.

Something clenches in my chest, an unfamiliar ache that feels suspiciously like sympathy. Like understanding.

I know what it’s like to feel inadequate. To feel you’re constantly falling short, no matter how hard you try. It’s a bitter, relentless pressure. The weight of expectations bearing down on you until you feel you can’t breathe.

Maybe Ava and I have more in common than I realized.

But before I can examine that thought, she’s straightening in her chair, the moment of weakness vanishing as quickly as it appeared. The mask of cool composure slips back into place, hiding any hint of the turmoil beneath.

“My turn,” she says. “Truth or dare?”

I look into her shimmering eyes. “Truth.”

“What’s your biggest regret?”

“I don’t believe in regrets,” I say. “What’s done is done. No point dwelling on it.”

“And still?”

I think about all the less-than-successful things I’ve done. “I suppose I should have been more careful with my extracurricular activities,” I say.

Ava tilts her head, a curious look on her face. “Why?”

“If I hadn’t ended up in the gossip columns so many times, none of this would be happening. I wouldn’t need a fake marriage and pretense. Dad wouldn’t have forced me to get married to get his role. ”

She looks at me with an almost disappointed expression. My stomach clenches. “You don’t like my answer?”

“For a moment, I thought maybe you were sorry for your behavior, but you’re only sorry you got caught.”

“Looks like you had a wild night.” Logan’s voice drips with amusement as I enter my office.

My brother is lounging in one of the plush armchairs in my office, his long legs stretched out before him.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, irritation prickling under my skin. I shrug off my suit jacket and hang it on the brass coat rack, standing sentry in the corner.

“Is that any way to greet your brother after I’ve been gone for so long?” Logan stands, straightening his tie. “And here I thought you’d be thrilled by the honor of my presence.”

“My apologies. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Dear Brother?” My words drip with sarcasm as I cross to my desk.

“I wanted to go over some Valeur business with you. Things you need to know now that you’re stepping up.” Logan’s gaze follows me, zeroing in on my neck. With a smirk, he reaches out and tugs at my collar, exposing the angry red scratches decorating my skin. “Your wife decorated you nicely, I see.”

I jerk away from his touch, heat crawling up my throat. “Is that what it looks like? That explains the stares and snickers I got on my way in.”

Better they think the marks are from a passionate encounter. It only reinforces my reputation as a shameless playboy. Far better than the humiliating truth—that I lost to a demon with feathers.

“You’re saying that’s not the reason?” Logan quirks a brow, curiosity and amusement warring in his expression.

“No.” I snap, my temper fraying. “I haven’t touched her.”

Logan’s eyes widen before he schools his features into a mask of nonchalance. “I don’t understand. You’re not sleeping together? Are you getting it elsewhere then?”