Page 28 of Ruined by My Ex’s Dad (Silver Fox Obsession #2)

Savannah

T he morning after crying in Lucas's arms should have felt transformative.

Instead, I woke with a clarity that settled like ice in my veins.

I slipped from his bed while he showered, leaving only a hastily scrawled note: Need to get to the office early. Talk later.

I just need some space- too much has happened, and I already have so much to process.

Three hours later, I sat in my office, staring at the email that had arrived shortly after I'd left his penthouse.

A message from a headhunter I'd spoken with months ago, before Lucas had consumed my every thought.

Position: Chief Marketing Officer, Armstrong Media Group - New York.

Armstrong was a dream company—innovative, female-led, with a reputation for boundary-pushing campaigns.

And three thousand miles from San Francisco.

From Miles. From Lucas.

From the ethical minefield I'd been navigating with increasing recklessness.

"Earth to Savannah." Zoe's voice broke through my thoughts as she appeared in my doorway, coffee in hand.

"I've been knocking for a full minute, are we still on for lunch?”

"Sorry." I minimized the email, guilt flaring at the mere thought of discussing it with anyone.

"Got lost in the Westlake proposal."

She closed the door behind her, settling into the chair across from my desk with an expression I recognized all too well—the look that said I wouldn't be getting rid of her easily.

"Bullshit." She set the coffee before me like a peace offering. "You've been staring at your screen like it contains either the meaning of life or a terminal diagnosis. Spill."

"It's nothing?—"

"If you say 'nothing' one more time, I swear I’m gonna scream out loud.” Her tone was light, but her eyes held genuine concern.

"You've been acting strange for weeks. Disappearing at odd hours. Meeting me out at places looking like you haven't slept. And yesterday, you were practically floating above the ground. Today? You look like someone died."

I sighed, knowing resistance was futile. "I received a job offer. Well, an interview opportunity. In New York."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? That's amazing! And terrible timing, given you're in the middle of the Westlake project." She paused, studying me with narrowing eyes. "But that's not why you look like that. This is about Silver Fox, isn't it?"

The nickname that once made me laugh now felt like a knife twisting between my ribs.

"Lucas."

"What happened? Last I heard, you were taking a week to think things through, then deciding whether to continue."

"I did think." I swiveled my chair to face the window, unable to meet her gaze directly.

"And I decided. We spent the night together yesterday."

"And...?"

"And it was different. He was different." The memory of his gentleness, his vulnerability, tightened my throat.

"He showed me a side of himself I didn't know existed."

"That's good, right? That's what you wanted—for him to open up emotionally?"

I turned back to her, fingers clutching my coffee cup with unnecessary force.

"That's the problem, Zoe. He gave me exactly what I asked for, and it terrified me."

"Why?"

"Because it's real." The words emerged as barely more than a whisper.

"It's not just incredible sex or forbidden excitement or some self-destructive pattern I can justify walking away from. It's something I could build a life around—if circumstances were different."

"But they're not different," she completed my thought. "He's still Miles's father. Still twenty years older. Still your client. Still, all the complications you identified before."

"Exactly." I pulled up the job listing and turned the screen toward her. "But this... this is an exit strategy. A clean break. A way to avoid the inevitable crash."

Zoe leaned forward, scanning the details with professional interest. "It's perfect for you. Exactly the kind of role you've talked about wanting."

"I know."

"But you don't want to go." It wasn't a question.

I closed my eyes briefly. "I want to go precisely because I don't want to go. Because the fact that I'm willing to risk everything I've built—my career, my reputation, my carefully constructed independence—for a man… it terrifies me more than I can express."

"That's called falling in love, sweetie." Her voice softened with unusual gentleness. "It's supposed to be terrifying."

"It's called making the same mistake I've always made," I corrected bitterly.

"Surrendering my power to a man who could destroy me without even trying. I swore after Miles I wouldn't do this again."

"Lucas isn't Miles."

"No, he's worse. More intense. More powerful. More capable of complete devastation." I pulled up the response form for the job listing.

"I can't do this, Zoe. I need to end it before I'm in too deep."

"News flash—you're already in too deep." She reached across the desk, covering my hand with hers. "I've never seen you like this. Not with Miles. Not with anyone."

"All the more reason to get out now." I started typing my response to the recruiter, fingers trembling slightly. "Before I lose myself completely."

"You're not losing yourself," she countered. "You're finding parts of yourself you've been hiding. Don't confuse the two."

But I couldn't afford the luxury of philosophical distinctions. Not when every instinct for self-preservation was screaming at me to run.

"I'm going to see him tonight," I said, hitting send on the email before I could change my mind. "I just need to know where this is going- its all so much.”

"And that will make you happy?"

The question hung between us, painfully impossible yet straightforward to answer truthfully.

"It will keep me sane," I finally said, the words tasting like ash. "It will keep me whole."

Zoe's skepticism was palpable, but she didn't argue further. "I'll bring wine and ice cream later. The good stuff from that place on Valencia."

A pang of gratitude squeezed my chest.

"You're assuming I'll need it."

"I know you will." She stood, straightening her skirt with deliberate casualness. "Because I've seen your face when you talk about him. And I know what it costs to walk away from something that matters."

After she left, I immersed myself in work with manic intensity—reviewing contracts, revising presentations, scheduling meetings with mindless efficiency.

The familiar routines should have been comforting, a return to the life I'd carefully built before Lucas Turner had upended everything.

Instead, each task felt hollow, mechanical.

The accomplishments that had once defined my worth now seemed empty, devoid of the meaning they'd once held.

The normalcy felt like a costume I was wearing—ill-fitting, unconvincing. The woman going through these motions wasn't really me anymore.

Or perhaps she was exactly me—the carefully constructed version I'd created to protect myself from vulnerability.

The woman who chose safety over possibility, control over connection.

Either way, she was the woman I needed to become again. The woman who survived on her own terms, who didn't need the devastating complexity Lucas Turner had introduced into my life.

I texted him as I walked back to the office:

Can we meet tonight? My place, 8 p.m.

His response came almost immediately:

I'll be there. Everything okay?

I didn't reply.

Didn't trust myself not to reveal too much, not to weaken before I'd even begun.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of meetings and deadlines, the routine numbing me against the growing dread of what lay ahead.

By the time I left the office, a strange calm had settled over me—the artificial tranquility that comes with absolute certainty of purpose.

I went through a checklist of preparations at my apartment: shower, blow-dry, minimal makeup, and a simple blue dress.

Nothing provocative, nothing that might undermine my resolve.

I cleared away any evidence of our previous encounters—the wine glasses we'd shared, the book he'd been reading, the spare toothbrush in my bathroom.

Erasing him systematically, as if that could make what I was about to do any easier.

At precisely eight, my doorbell rang. My heart lurched painfully against my ribs as I moved to answer, rehearsing the speech I'd prepared.

Calm. Logical. Final.

He stood there in dark jeans and a gray cashmere sweater, less formal than I'd ever seen him. The casual attire should have diminished his authoritative presence. Instead, it only emphasized the man beneath the CEO persona—the man I'd glimpsed yesterday in those moments of exquisite tenderness.

"Savannah." He stepped inside, bending to kiss me. I turned my face slightly, his lips landing on my cheek instead of my mouth. A small rejection that made his eyes narrow with sudden awareness.

"We need to talk," I said, the cliché burning my tongue.

"Clearly." He didn't move further into the apartment, didn't remove his coat. Read the situation with the same precision he brought to everything.

"What's happened since this morning?"

"Nothing happened." I moved to the living room, needing the symbolic protection of furniture between us.

"I just... had time to think."

"About?"

"About us. About what we're doing. About the impossibility of it all." The prepared speech dissolved, leaving only raw truth. "Lucas, we're kidding ourselves. This can't work—not long term. The professional complications alone?—"

"Can be managed," he cut in, his voice calm, reasonable. "As can the personal ones."

"Can they?" I challenged, something fierce rising in me.

"What happens when Miles finds out? When your board discovers you're sleeping with a marketing consultant half your age? When my clients learn I've been involved with the father of my ex? We'd both be professionally destroyed."

"Those are logistics. Challenges to be overcome." He hadn't moved from his position near the door and was watching me with the careful assessment of a man evaluating a volatile situation. "Not insurmountable obstacles."