Page 101 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
“Hmm.” Luca mulled over my words with a slow nod. “Let me see.”
“Sure, I’m sending it to your—”
He was already on his feet, walking toward me. “No need to send anything,” he said. “I’m right here.”
He stopped behind me and leaned in. His scent hit me first—fresh, like he’d just stepped out of the shower. Lavender and cedarwood. Just like the old shower gel he used five years ago. The fact that it hadn’t changed made something warm twist in my stomach.
I tried—desperately—to focus on the screen in front of me. But it was impossibly hard.
God, I missed this. The nearness of him, the feeling, the thrill it elicited in me. But Luca didn’t seem fazed. He didn’t even look at me. He just concentrated on the screen. I felt frustration curl up inside of me.
“So,” I began, my voice low, “I added a new mood board section at the end—right after the color palette. It gives the space more of a personal signature.”
“Hmm.” His voice rumbled right above me, and I clenched my thighs instinctively.
I continued, determined. “And I updated the photo arrangement on the second layout to follow a diagonal pattern. It draws the eye straight to the focal point.”
Another hum. “Hmm.”
I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to turn around and glare. “And the final addition was here, in the digital mock-up. I’ll make the changes to the PowerPoint if you approve.”
“Hmm.”
That was it.
“Okay, what is wrong with you? Why are you acting like…” I snapped my head toward him, already annoyed. But that was my mistake. I froze as my eyes locked on him.
We were close. Too close. Only a breath away. My face almost collided with his.
I held my breath, suddenly aware of everything—his heat, the curve of his mouth, the look in his eyes. Dangerous. Intent. If I moved wrong, I wouldn’t be able to walk away if he leaned in.
“Like what?” He hitched a brow.
“Like you’d rather be anywhere but here,” I said quietly.
Luca sucked in a rush of air. “Leila, trust me. There’s nowhere I’d rather be right now. But this is what you wanted—and I’m only respecting your wishes.”
“Since when has that ever stopped you?
“I have always cared about what you want. I just thought you were denying it, denying what you wanted. But now I see—maybe I was wrong.”
Wrong? How could he even think that? I’d never wanted anyone this badly, even with the hurtful history between us. There were just so many complications between us, and I was scared of getting hurt again, of letting myself be roped back in, knowing the consequences would be more dire this time.
I didn’t get to respond, even as Luca stared at me expectantly. Then my phone buzzed on the desk, and I broke the gaze between us to see the notification.
Victor Vaughn: Hope your day wasn’t too hectic. Still thinking about dinner Saturday.
After missing dinner the other day—when I went to the art gallery—I had called Victor and rescheduled for Saturday. It was my day off, and I didn’t want to give him another reason to feel stood up. It was starting to feel unfair.
Suddenly, the air shifted. Beside me, I felt the change in Luca. I heard his breathing become heavier, like he was trying to control himself. His anger didn’t show in words. It radiated from him like heat from a fire.
I turned slowly to look at him, and he straightened at once. His face was like stone. Jaw locked. Eyes sharp and gleaming. His nostrils flared once. His mouth was pressed into a flat, thin line. But instead of saying anything, he walked back to his seat and sat down—his posture sharp, rigid. His eyes, however, never left me. He just stared. Glaring.
I shifted in my seat, trying to ignore the tension crawling up my spine. The silence stretched, tight and loaded, but he didn’t say a word. Just watched me with that barely leashed rage simmering beneath the surface.
I took it as a cue to move on.
“So…do you like the new additions to—”
