Page 51 of Devious Temptation
It’s time to let it go, Lucy. It’s time to move on.
After all, when a woman decides she’s done with a man’s shit, it’s usually when he gets his act together.
Right?
Eighteen
User not found.
My brows stitch together as I frown at my phone’s screen. I type in Lucy’s name again, but Iconic keeps saying the same thing.
User not found.
Did she block me?
Honestly, if she did, I don’t blame her. I can probably win the Flakiest Person of the Year award without even trying.
I’d intended to make her mine, the whiskey swimming in my veins leading me to not make the most rational of decisions. But as she screamed her release into my hand, I had a startling realization that anyone could have heard us. Anyone could haveseenus.
And that sobering thought had me running with my proverbial tail tucked between my legs once more.
Glancing up, I see she’s engrossed in whatever she’s working on at her desk. I was prepared for things to be awkward this morning when we got to work, but my usualcoffee was waiting for me on my desk, and she politely asked if there was anything I needed her to move to the top of her task list like it was just another day between a typical boss and his assistant.
As if she can feel my stare, her eyes lift from the paper she’s writing on, not to meet my gaze, but to focus on something random—as if she’s assessing her surroundings like a rabbit who caught the scent of a fox upwind.
Gathering her things, she reaches for her coat as she powers down her computer. There’s still an hour before work is over, but she looks like she’s planning on leaving early anyway, which is odd given her normal work ethic.
I pretend to be busy with a file when she raps her knuckles on the door.
“Mr. Morgan? If you don’t mind, I’m going to leave a little early today. I finished booking the hotel for the conference this weekend and finalized your attendance at the forums you wanted to sit in on.” She approaches my desk and sets a folder down before slipping an emerald green trench coat over her garnet swing dress.
As she flips her hair out of the collar, I muster a smile and ask, “Hot date?”
It’s a joke—a poorly timed, inappropriate, and absolutely downright disrespectful joke, given our circumstances.
Lucy doesn’t find it amusing.
She purses her lips, staring at the papers on my desk instead of gracing me with her beautiful hazel irises.
“I’m sorry, that wasn’t?—”
Her tone is soft and a little unsure when she cuts me off. “Yes. As a matter of fact.”
A fistcurls around my chest. Large and icy, yet full of heat at the same time. The type of cold that burns and takes your breath away.
Her brows knit together as I cough to dislodge the horrible feeling. “Are you okay? Would you like me to go get you some water?”
Beating my chest, I shake my head. “I’m fine. Go ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
A brief flash of disappointment dances across her face, as though she expected me to inquire more about it. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Morgan.”
I don’t ask her why she blocked me. Or why—if she is so adamant about giving us a try—she’s already got a date lined up with another guy.
But I do message Jules and ask her if she can still see Lucy’s account.
Jules
The little cherry pop blocked me, too. Want me to get Cam to follow her?
