Page 96 of Lucas
I know I said no cuddling, no emotions, but there’s no wayI’m letting her go now. I pull out, lying next to her and wrapping her in my arms, holding her close.
She doesn’t resist, and for the first time since we met, we lie in silence on the blanket, catching our breath.
We return to the estate, riding at a slow pace, the sun-dappled trees casting flickering shadows across our path. My chest constricts, each breath feeling like a dagger between my ribs. I slow my bike, allowing Ava to pull ahead so she can’t glimpse the anguished expression I’m sure is painted across my face.
When she reaches the ivy-covered bike shed, she brakes and waits for me, her cheeks flushed and glowing from exertion. I coast to a stop beside her, forcing a neutral mask as I gather our equipment and store everything inside.
“Thank you for teaching me how to ride,” she says, tucking an errant lock of silky hair behind one ear. “I never thought I’d enjoy it so much.”
“Anytime. It was my pleasure.” I aim for a light, teasing tone. “In more ways than one.”
A blush stains her cheeks, but something guarded shutters behind her eyes. “Right. Well, I should go shower.”
She spins on her heel and strides toward the house, her spine rigid, before I can even lock the shed.
Running away. Again.
I remain rooted in place, watching her figure disappear into the cool dimness of the house. We agreed—no cuddling, just sex. A physical release, nothing more.
So why does it feel like she’s taking a part of me with her?
I roam over to the crystalline swimming pool and collapse onto one of the cushioned loungers overlooking the water, the woven rattan creaking under my weight.
Fuck.
I press a fist to my chest, right over the throbbing ache that has nothing to do with overexertion. I’m not having a heart attack. No, this pain is deeper, soul-deep.
I’m not in love with her. I’m not. Not even a little.
Love is a lie, a manipulation. A weakness to be exploited.
I know better.
The demonic voice in my head cackles, taunting me.Are you sure, Lucas? Is that why you caved to her recovery scheme, something you never would have entertained from anyone else? Why you skipped your sacred weekly ride, the only time you can turn off your brain and just be, to spend the day teaching her instead? Why the very thought of another man touching her makes you want to tear the world apart?
I clench my eyes, fists white-knuckled at my sides. No. I can’t let this happen.
But what if it’s already too late? What if, despite my best efforts, I am falling for her? Would it be the end of the world?
She’s an incredible woman—strong, brilliant, compassionate. Things are explosive between us, and maybe she could grow to care for me, too. She’s clearly attracted to me. Maybe we could work through our differences and build something real.
Don’t be a fool,the insidious voice growls.What happens when you take a wrecking ball to her beloved company? When you rip away everything she’s worked for, unmake her? Youthink she’ll be grateful? That she could ever love the man who destroyed her life?
I growl low in my throat, digging the heels of my hands into my eye sockets until I see stars. The voice is right. Whatever this is between us, it has an expiration date. An inevitable, ugly end that will obliterate any fragile bonds we’ve forged.
I have to lock these traitorous feelings away. Bury them deep and ignore their siren song before they lure me into the looming rocks. I’m Lucas fucking Valeur. I don’t do love. I don’t need it.
I’ve nearly got my hammering pulse back under control when Hugo appears at the patio entrance.
“There you are, sir. Apologies for the interruption, but there’s an agitated young lady here asking for you. A Miss Kaia?”
I straighten, my brow furrowing. “Kaia? What the hell is she doing here?”
Scrubbing a hand over my stubbled jaw, I take a deep, centering breath and rise from the lounger. “Show her into the front living room, please. I’ll be right there.”
I take an extra moment to collect myself before striding into the house, the cool marble a balm against my overheated skin. I find Kaia pacing the gleaming parquet floors of the parlor, a purple duffel bag abandoned at her feet. She’s wearing ripped jeans and an oversized band tee that swallows her petite frame. Her blonde hair is piled atop her head in a messy topknot, mascara smudged beneath her red-rimmed eyes.
She whirls to face me as I enter, her expression crumpling. “Mr. Valeur, I’m so sorry to barge in like this.”
