Page 40 of Devilish Bully
“She clearly doesn’t want you,” Mr. Marin says. “It’s obvious so?—”
“I miss you, too.” My voice cracks, and Lucian strides over, pulling me up and kissing me as if there’s no one else in the room but us. His mouth crashes down on mine, rough and hungry, stealing every ounce of breath I had left. I clutch his shirt as his arms crush me to his chest, the kiss so filthy, so desperate, that it feels like a claim. Gasps echo around the boardroom, but I don’t care. For the first time in weeks, I feel alive.
“Kick them both out!” Mr. Marin shouts, scandalized. “This is not how real business is conducted!”
We break into laughter against each other’s mouths, breathless, reckless.
Lucian pulls me against his side as we leave the room and follow the security guard outside.
“Is this a yes to giving me a second chance?” he asks.
“Only if you’re serious about never hurting me again.”
“I promise.” He presses his forehead against mine.
“Do you really think I can start my own company?”
“You should’ve had your own years ago.”
“And if I ask you to help me do some research on starting one now?”
“You wouldn’t need to ask.” He kisses my lips. “I’ll help you with everything.”
He clasps my hand and leads me to the car parked just steps away.
“I don’t think they’re going to hire me now.”
“Good.” He smiles. “I can think of a much better way for you to spend your afternoon.”
“You think I want to have sex with you right now?”
“No.” He looks over at me. “I know that.”
“After you get off work?”
“I’m off now…” His eyes flash with that smirk. “Which means your weekend officially starts in my bed.”
As he pulls me closer, I realize I don’t care about the job I just lost. What I care about is this reckless, impossible man—and the fact that, for once, I’m willing to gamble everything on him.
The End
EPILOGUE
KENDALL
Several months later
I walk through the front doors of Clarke Financials, inhaling the scent of sawdust.
If all goes to plan, the construction will be finished by the end of the year, and I won’t have to meet my clients in borrowed spaces in Lucian’s building anymore.
Strolling past where the receptionist’s desk will be, I slip into the space where my office will be.
I spin around, envisioning the glass walls, my name etched on the door.
As I’m admiring my view of Central Park, footsteps sound behind me.
“I could’ve sworn we agreed you wouldn’t come here again until it was finished.” Lucian wraps his arms around my waist. “You promised.”
