Page 96 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
Why the hell were butterflies fluttering in my stomach like idiots? Why was my wolf practically wagging her tail inside me?
I steadied my stance. I couldn’t afford to let him see how easily he still got under my skin.
“You see, Leila,” he stood and rounded his desk, walking toward me, “you’re fiercely independent. That’s your foundation. And when something shakes that, you fight to take back control. I knew you’d offer to repay me—somehow, some way—which is ridiculous, because you can’t. And I don’t want you to.”
He stopped in front of me, close enough that my skin prickled.
“I want you to work with me. I need that contract. And the only person who can help me get it is you.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms like they could shield me from the way my body was already reacting. “So, this was all a ploy to get me on the project? You cleared my debt just to trap me into saying yes?”
“No, Leila.” His voice was calm. “I cleared your debt because I can’t stand the thought of that man—or any man—putting his hands on you. Harassing you. I cleared your debt because I can’t stand to see you burdened, not when I could do something about it.” He looked at me then—really looked. “I did it because I care about you—so much that I’d rather have you hate me than feel unsafe.”
My breath hitched. The air in the room shifted—thick and dangerous, like the moment right before he kissed me at the observatory. I couldn’t let it happen again. Not here, where someone could walk through his door and catch us.
I took a cautious step back.
Much as I hated to admit it, he was right. The Grand Summit was in one week. If I helped him land the contract, I wouldn't have to owe him anything. And after the wedding, I’d never have to see him again.
I felt a sharp pang at the thought, but it was for the best. I told myself that. Forced myself to believe it.
“Fine,” I said. “But let it be known—this is blackmail.”
He chuckled. “It’s business, Leila.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever,” I muttered, grabbing the brown folder from his desk as I turned toward the door.
I could feel the heat of Luca’s gaze on me—on my ass—trailing my every movement. And God, I liked it. I liked it so much, I felt heat pool in places it shouldn’t. The image of him pinning me against his office window flashed through my head, vivid and taunting. It took every ounce of willpower I had to shove it away.
My fingers tightened around the edge of the folder.
Working with Luca Vaughn every day for a week?
Yeah, I was in deep shit.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Leila’s POV
It wasthe first day of working with Luca on the design for the Grand Summit, and I couldn’t have been more anxious. I’d literally spent a whole thirty minutes shuffling through my closet for an outfit. Which was ridiculous—because, no, I wasn’t dressing to impress him. I didn’t want to draw any attention. Nothing that would warrant that heated gaze that made common sense fly out the window and left me wanting him—left my wolf aching for him, blurring the lines of the boundary I’ve drawn between us. Being around Luca was like wanting a taste of something that could, would hurt you, something you shouldn’t—but still wanted it anyway. Even if it burned your tongue.
I didn’t know how I was supposed to get through an entire week working in close proximity with him, especially since my body seemed to have a mind of its own now—betraying all the bravado and resolve I tried to keep up.
But as much as it made me anxious, it also made me…excited in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
I walked into the staff lounge of Vaughn Industries, and just like that, my presence trumped all the noise and chatter. Conversations fizzled into hush whispers and half-stifled giggles that curled under my skin mockingly. They’d been doing it all morning. Passing me with mocking stares, judgment in their eyes as though I was a plague. I tried to force their voices out of my head as I approached Jasmine.
“I’m here about that key card.” Since I was working here now, even though it was temporary, company protocol still required I sign it with the key card and clock out with it.
“Right,” Jasmine said. “Please hold on a second while I process that.”
As I waited, I tried to busy myself with tapping my feet on the floor—anything to drown out all the gossip. But it was futile.
Two women stood behind me, their voices barely above a whisper as they spoke.
I can’t believe she had the guts to show her face here.
Ugh. Look at her, dressing all professional. You’d never guess she’s a thief and a slut.
