Page 75 of Lucas
“You’re not very good at lying.”
“Unlike you.” I stop in my tracks, and someone from behind almost collides with me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” I resume my pace, but Lucas grabs my arm, halting me again.
“What do you mean? When have I lied?”
“What was that at lunch with Michelle? Lie after lie. You didn’t even blink. You spout them so easily like you’re used to lying on a daily basis. I’m sure your heart rate doesn’t even rise. If you have one at all.”
“I don’t lie on a daily basis. Those were harmless white lies. And I do have a heart.” He takes my hand and places it on his chest, right where the buttons of his shirt are open and his bronzed skin is exposed. “You can feel it.”
I gasp, my pulse racing. His warm skin under my palm, my fingertips hovering over his flesh, over the hard muscle. The beat of his heart is definitely palpable.
Boom. Boom.
Boom. Boom.
Or is that my heartbeat?
I’m standing with my hand on his chest. He’s not holding me or touching me. I’m the one touching him. We stand facing each other in the middle of the sidewalk. People flow around us from every direction, and we’re in the center, caught in each other’s gaze.
“Fuck, Ava,” Lucas whispers.
I gasp as he utters my name, the rough rasp of it sending liquid heat coursing through my veins. It would be so easy to rise on my toes, to close the distance between us and capture that sinful mouth with my own. To sink my fingers into his hair and take what I want, what I need, like the very air in my lungs.
His chest rises and falls beneath my splayed hand, and the wild drum of his heart is hard against my palm. It matches my own chaotic rhythm beat for thunderous beat, betraying the desperate want that consumes us both.
I drag my gaze down to that tempting sliver of bronzed skin revealed by the open collar of his shirt. It begs to be touched, to be tasted. Worshipped with lips and teeth and tongue until he’s trembling and incoherent with need.
Something is wrong with me. I should stay away.
What will happen the moment he sees the documents?
I push him away. “I need to get back to the office.”
“Ava, wait,” he calls after me, hurrying to catch up.
I don’t wait, just increase my stride.
“What just happened there, Ava? Why are you running?”
“Nothing happened, and I’m not running. I have work to do. And I need to find your damn documents.”
“Okay.” Lucas looks confused for a moment, then slips back into business executive mode. “I’ve prepared a recovery plan for Gant Construction that I want us to review together. I’d like to implement the first phase within the next month. The company’s situation is worse than I thought. I can come to your office now?—”
“No!” I bark. My office is filled with binders from which I’m trying to sift out any documents he didn’t explicitly request. It’s all a mess on my desk. He can’t see that.
He nods, but his eyes flash. “All right. I’ll send you the file, and you can go over it alone. Call me if there’s anything you need.”
“I need nothing from you.”
“Right. Nothing. Nothing but two hundred million dollars.”
I scan through the folder Lucas sent, my shoulders sagging with each page I read. His recovery plan includes laying off thirty percent of Gant Construction’s workforce.
This isn’t a recovery, it’s murder.
