Page 95 of A Win-Win Situation

I attempt to break away from him again, but it only makes things worse. A sensation, close to a thousand needles, spreads across my wrist, and I'm fervently hoping it doesn’t leave a mark.

"John, let go of me, now. You're hurting me."

For a brief moment of shock, his grip loosens, and I seize the opportunity to pull my hand away. I step away, my heart pounding in my chest. The café patrons glance at us curiously, sensing the tension in the air.

"What is wrong with you?" My voice grows louder.

"I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to."

No, I’m not allowing him to feel sorry about himself or his actions.

I take a step toward him, pointing at him. "Don’t you ever touch me again."

"Leora."

"Fuck you, John. For everything," I declare firmly, my voice unwavering. "This conversation is over. Seek help, work on yourself, and find a healthier way to address your emotions."

He looks away, his expression a mix of resignation and bitterness. "I guess I really lost you then, huh?"

I nod, my voice filled with finality. "Yes, you did—a long time ago."

Without waiting for his response, I turn and walk away, leaving behind a chapter of my life that was now tainted by pain and disappointment.

I don’t rememberthe way home. Lucas usually drives us and my phone is dead which means calling an Uber isn’t an option. I scan my surroundings, searching for any sign of transportation and unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be a single, available taxi in sight. Frustration wells up within me, but I push it aside, focusing on the one thing that matters—getting back to Lucas as fast as possible. I’ll just put on a dress and we’ll be on our way to the charity dinner.

I continue walking, relying on my memory to guide me. I occasionally stop to ask for directions from passersby.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I recognize a familiar landmark. I’m exhausted, my body is screaming for rest, however, that doesn’t matter. Relief washes over me, pushing away the fatigue when I spot the building.

Home. I quicken my pace, and I even choose to take the elevator. It’s faster than the stairs.

Lucas has been quietly supportive of my fear of elevators, even though he hasn't openly acknowledged it. Whenever we find ourselves in an elevator, he distracts me by engaging in light conversation, shifting my focus away from my fear.

It’s one of his many sweet sides.

I keep my mind on him as the elevator ascends. I’m not completely fearless; my heartbeat still quickens and nausea hits me, but I’m still doing it. If this were a month ago, I would have never stepped in all by myself.

The elevator dings, signaling my arrival at the desired penthouse. Taking a deep breath, I step out and walk toward our apartment, eager to see Lucas.

The sound of his voice fills the hallway as I approach. I can sense the urgency in his tone as he speaks to someone, but as soon as he catches sight of me, his expression transforms from worry to relief. The conversation is seemingly forgotten as he rushes towards me and envelops me in a tight embrace.

"You're back," he says, his voice carrying both concern and relief. His hold on me is strong, as if he's afraid I might disappear. "Are you okay?"

I'm taken aback by his reaction, unsure of what has transpired in my absence. I take a moment to gather my thoughts before responding. "I'm here, Lucas. I'm okay," I assure him, feeling a sense of comfort in his arms.

He releases his embrace slightly, his hands finding their way to my shoulders as he scans my face and body, searching for any signs of harm or distress. His concern is palpable, and I'm grateful for his care.

"Are you sure? Why didn’t you take the car I sent? Where have you been? What happened?"

He looks at me with so much care and worry etched on his face, his eyes searching mine for answers. He shoots his questions at me with urgency. I take a moment to gather mythoughts, torn between telling him the truth and not wanting to upset him at seeing John.

I hesitate, my mind racing with conflicting emotions. I fear my recent encounter with John will push him further away from me, and I don't think I can handle losing him as a friend. I decide to shield him from the truth, at least for now.

"I'm sorry, Lucas," I say, my voice tinged with remorse. "My phone died, and I was working with Camille. It took longer than expected, and I couldn't reach you. I didn't mean to worry you."

Lucas's expression changes from concern to confusion. Skepticism lines his furrowed brow as he tries to make sense of my explanation. He takes a step closer, his voice laced with skepticism.

"With Camille? Until this late in the evening?" he questions.

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