Page 8 of Lucky

Lucky doesn’t hesitate. “Depends,” he says, his voice low, almost teasing. “You planning on coming here every night?”

The way his lips quirk up at the corners pulls a faint dimple into his cheek, and something about it makes me feel like I'm walking a line. I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or the way he looks at me, like I’m the only thing in the room that matters. His gaze holds steady, and for a split second, I think I see something more—like maybe he’s been watching me for longer than I’ve noticed. His eyes are warm, dark brown, and they have a way of pulling you in, making you forget everything except the way they make you feel exposed and wanted, all at once.

“I don’t know…” I drag my finger around the rim of my glass, then flick my eyes up at him, just enough to catch that glint of amusement in his eyes. “Is the company here any good?”

A long, almost suffocating silence falls between us, and for a moment, the noise of the club fades away, leaving just the two of us in our own little bubble. The music, the chatter, even the pounding bass—everything blurs as I watch him, the curve of his lips, the play of light across his jawline, the way his thumb taps rhythmically against his drink. He’s not in a hurry to answer, and something in that stretches the tension tighter, like a rope pulled too thin.

I swallow hard. There’s an unbearable weight that’s been pressing down on me for so long—the anxiety that never stops buzzing at the back of my mind. I’ve been wound so tight that it feels like everything is about to snap, and all I want is to feel something different, something that makes me forget. Forget the weight of my life, the tightness in my chest, the creeping fear that follows me like a shadow.

And, damn it, it’s been so long since I’ve felt a man’s touch.

I don’t know why I’m letting myself consider this. My common sense is still half awake, screaming that this is abad idea. That I don’t do this. That I’ve spent far too many years keeping things clean, professional, and uncomplicated. Marco’s outside, waiting. I could just get up, walk away, and pretend tonight never happened. I’d drive home, make it all go away, bury it like everything else.

But as his deep, dark voice slides through the air, I know I won’t.

“Why don’t you come back to my office,” Lucky says, his words slow, deliberate, “and I’ll show you just how good the company is.”

The smoothness of his voice lingers like velvet, and a shiver runs down my spine. He’s not asking, not really. It’s more like a command wrapped in the softest invitation, a promise of something that’s dangerously close but just out of reach. His gaze sharpens as he leans in a fraction closer, his breath warm against my ear, and I can’t help but inhale it, like he’s intoxicating in a way I can’t quite name.

For a second, I imagine walking away, but the thought is fleeting. Instead, I lean in a little, my lips almost grazing his, and I offer him a smile that’s half challenge, half invitation. "And if I don’t?"

His lips curve even more, and I catch a flash of something—something darker—pass through his eyes. "Well, then you’ll never know just how good my company is." He says it like it’s already a done deal, like the choice is in my hands but only for the moment, and it’s already slipping away.

I feel it too—the gravity of the moment pulling me closer to him, like we’re caught in a storm, both of us riding it out, waiting to see who breaks first. He’s dangerous in that way—too smooth, too confident. But it’s not just his looks that have me hooked. It’sthe way he makes me feel like I’m the only one in the room, like I’ve stepped into his orbit and now there’s no escape.

I glance down at my drink, then back up to meet his gaze, my fingers curling around the glass as if it could somehow anchor me. The heat in his eyes is unmistakable, a flicker of something primal beneath the surface, but there’s still that calm exterior, that control. It’s the kind of control that makes you want totestit.

“You seem so sure that you could hold my attention for more than five seconds,” I murmur, letting the words slide between us like silk, my voice lower now, more deliberate, as my eyes drop to his lips, silently tracing the shape of his mouth.

His smile deepens, and for a moment, I swear I see the flash of a challenge in his eyes, like he's sizing me up, figuring out just how far he can push. The corners of his lips twitch, like he's enjoying this back-and-forth game.

“Five seconds. Five hours. Five days. You’ll lose all sense of time the moment you step into that office,” he says, leaning in slightly, his breath ghosting over my skin, sending another jolt through my body. "But I’ll let you decide, Jacklyn. I’ve got all night."

I swallow hard. He’s dark anddangerous—there’s no denying it. But the air between us is so thick with want, so charged with tension that I can't remember the last time I felt this alive. My pulse quickens, and I can feel the heat spreading in my chest, down to my fingertips, to the pit of my stomach. I know I should walk away. I know I should be smarter than this.

But something in his voice, something in the way he looks at me, keeps me right where I am. And, for once, I don’t want to fight it.

I take a deep breath, letting the weight of the decision hang in the air, before finally leaning in closer, the words coming out before I can stop them.

“Impress me.”

Lucky’s smile is a slow, dangerous thing, and I can already feel the shift in the room, the pull between us settling into something deeper, darker. He rises from his seat, his movements smooth and sure. I follow suit, my legs a little shaky but steady enough to stand on my own.

As he leads me towards the back of the club, I can’t help but feel like I’ve just stepped into a game I don’t know how to win. But right now, that’s the most thrilling part.

5

LUCKY

Isaw her the minute she walked into the club.

How could I not notice her when the crowd parted and let her through, as though she were visiting royalty? How could I not have known who she was? Who she is? How could I have ignored the presence of the one person who turned every head in the club tonight?

I’d been standing with Rafi in a quiet corner of the room when he’d let out a low whistle. When I’d looked up, there she was, walking down a human aisle like she was walking the red carpet, before she took a seat at the bar. Alone. My eyes followed her and stayed on her until Rafi nudged me, snapping me out of my stupor.

“Jacklyn Vicci,” he told me. “Heiress to the Vicci empire.”

“She come here often?”

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