Page 39 of Forsaken Desire
Itapped my fingers on the counter, waiting for my break. The front desk had been relaxed for the last two hours. Nothing crazy happening, nor were there difficult customers.
But what I’d gotten sick of was the hushed whispers between Galina and Sasha. It was obvious that word had spread of what happened at the community center.
Lucian was gone in the morning, but he’d scrawled a number on a piece of paper, telling me to call the number and the person on the other end would drive me to work.
As if. I’d walked my happy ass to the bus stop. Today I had an evening shift, so I wasn’t worried about the morning traffic.
The card I’d found on my nightstand burned a hole in my pocket. He was delusional if he thought I wanted any money from him.
I didn’t know what would happen between us, but I wasn’t okay with how he’d handled any of it so far.
“. . . can’t believe she just swoops in and steals someone’s mate.” The too-loud whisper reached my ears.
I stiffly turned toward them and met Sasha’s gaze.
“If you have something to say, say it,” I warned as calmly as possible.
Her eyes widened, making it obvious she never intended to garner my attention like that. I narrowed my eyes while she sputtered.
My upper lip twitched, and I pressed my teeth together so I didn’t snarl at her. Losing control in the middle of work would do me no good. I breathed out slowly and rolled my shoulders.
The click of heels brought my attention to the other side of the counter.
“Take your break, Ms. Garcia,” Ms. Zhao instructed, eyes bouncing from me to Sasha. I logged out of my account and nudged the keyboard closer to the computer. With a glare, I met Sasha’s gaze. She kept mine, and I gritted my teeth, forcing myself not to look away. She matched me in dominance, and the urge to drop my eyes ate at me.
But stubbornness prevailed, and she was the first to look away. Once I mated to Lucian, her dominance wouldn’t affect me any longer—correction,ifI mated to him.
I flicked my glare to Galina, and she pursed her lips and looked at the ceiling like it was suddenly incredibly interesting. I strode past Ms. Zhao and toward the elevator.
Lucian would be in his office based on the note he left me. That he “had a lot to handle.” I huffed and jabbed the button to open the silver doors. Nerves swirled in my stomach, but I had a right to go shove his card in his face. He was my fated mate. We were supposed to be one. I poked the button to the highest floor. The swoop of the elevator lifting caused my stomach to turn.
The doors swung open, and I stepped onto the carpet.
A ball formed in the pit of my stomach, intensifying the nausea and making me dizzy. I stopped in the middle of the hall, leaning beside the threshold of a slim door leading into the copy room.
My temples hurt like hell. I groaned, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
The swell of dizziness didn’t evaporate, but I couldn’t let myself drown under my nerves. I breathed in through my nose and exhaled through my mouth. With my shoulders straight, I strode down the hall, trying not to look out the large windows into the busy, bustling streets illuminated by the lights of the buildings. The moon beamed through the window, washing me in a comforting energy. I inhaled deeply and reached the end of the hall that cut sharply to the right. It opened to an area with a desk and a plastic plant in it. Behind the desk was wall-to-wall glass, but I couldn’t see through them because of the closed blinds. Inching a bit closer, I rapped my knuckles on the door.
“Enter.” The barked word jolted me forward. Lucian sat behind the desk, sprawled back in the chair, the top of his button-down undone. “Josephine.” He stood.
“No need to get up,” I replied shortly and walked toward him as I fished out the card in my pocket. I tossed it on the desk, and the heavy metal clattered. “I don’t need your money.”
He frowned and rounded the desk.
“Don’t touch me,” I snapped. A muscle in his cheek jumped, and he shoved his hand through his hair, mussing the strands.
“Allow me to?—”
“No.” I turned my back on him, narrowing in on the shut door. I was only feet away from the exit when arms wound around me, stopping me. His front pressed against my back. I tried to keep walking, but I couldn’t. Squeezing me, he kept me trapped, the long line of his body flush against me.
“Josephine. I was scared.” His blurted words froze every one of my limbs. “I can’t lose you.”
My defenses wobbled.
“I won’t lose you, Josephine. Ican’t.” His voice cracked, and my heart splintered with it. I didn’t like my mate in pain. I rubbed the spot on my chest where our bond was easiest to feel.
My time in prison allowed me a hyperawareness of tone of voice. How people said things and the underlying aspects—especially threats. And that sentence was a threat. He wouldn’t lose me, because he wasn’t going to let me go, even if I wanted it.
