Page 12 of Thirst Trap
The screen froze mid frame: Maddison mid eyeroll, legs crossed, her fingers tapping her thigh in that rhythm she always used when she was bored or scheming. He zoomed in slightly.
"Booklover69," he muttered under his breath. "You little stalker... are you trying to find me, or burn me down?"
"You know that's weird, right?"
Logan's voice cut through the quiet like a blade.
Lucas flinched, scrambling to click off the feed too late.
Logan lounged against the door frame, arms crossed, a fresh cut healing on his
cheek. "Watching your assistant flirt with the entire building like a Bond villain. You okay there, bro?"
"She was asking about me," Lucas said coldly.
"God forbid," Logan shot back. "She's not allowed to be curious about the emotionally constipated CEO with a burner thirst account and trust issues?"
Lucas glared, but Logan wasn't finished.
"Be honest. You think she's your ghost," he pressed. "The one from the DMs. Book whatever. You've been spiraling since she walked in."
Lucas didn't answer. His silence was enough.
Logan's smirk faded into something harder. "Just don't fall for a fantasy, Luc. You fall hard. And when you fall, we all bleed for it."
Lucas looked back at the frozen screen. Maddison's head was thrown back in a laugh. Unbothered. Bold. Real.
"What if she's not a fantasy?" he murmured.
Logan shrugged and walked away.
Lucas stayed seated.
And didn't press play.
Chapter 7
Penny
Penny Potter was a kaleidoscope of chaos in an ocean of grey. Lime green coat. Hot pink nails. Lemon yellow stilettos that clicked like gunfire on concrete. Her dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail, gold hoops winking in the fading light as she lifted a watermelon margarita to her lips.
She looked like candy.
She was my poison.
I spotted her instantly across the rooftop bar impossible to miss when everyone else was too busy pretending not to stare. I didn’t pause. Didn’t smile. Just cut a path through the crowd like a bullet aimed straight for her.
Penny didn’t even glance up. Just smirked around her straw.
“You’re late, sugar.”
“Cut the shit.” I dragged the chair opposite her out with a scrape of metal, but I didn’t sit. “You dropped something about Lucas. An assistant. A mystery redhead. You know how that looks.”
She slipped her sunglasses off slowly, her eyes glittering like they’d been waiting for this.
“I know exactly how it looks,” she said. “That’s why I wrote it.”
My teeth ground together. “You’re supposed to run what I feed you. Not chase your own headlines.”
