Six
SIX
LUCAS
T he club is packed, even more so than usual. Julien, my friend, stands by our table, his tumbler of scotch raised over his head as he moves to the music. I’ve been out almost every weekend since I found out about the whole marriage predicament, and Julien is the friend you call for a good time. However, today I’m not feeling it at all. The clock is ticking and now I have three months to not only find a woman but to also make her my wife, all before the vote.
It’s an impossible task.
"See anyone you like?" Julien asks as he plops down next to me. I answer by giving him a sideways glance.
No, I don’t see anyone I like. There’s a bunch of beautiful women here tonight, but no one interests me in the slightest. Even though the whole thing is set up as a business agreement, I still want something to be there. Something that makes me want to choose her—to put my reputation on the line for. Because if this charade doesn't work, I’m screwed.
"Come on man, when was the last time you had some fun with a beautiful woman?" I know what he means by fun . I haven’t been with anyone other than my fist for the past four months. Honestly, I’ve been busy with work, and just like today, I haven’t felt a pull towards anyone.
Except for the girl in the lobby.
I shake that thought away. She’s only a tourist, and I don’t have time for those.
"Why don’t you go and dance over there?" I say, trying to get him to leave me alone for a little while.
He laughs at my obvious attempt to ignore his question. "Why don’t you join me?"
"Not tonight, man," I reply, feeling drained from my long day at the office. "I just want to sit here and people-watch for a bit."
Julien shrugs, taking another sip of his drink. "Suit yourself. But if you change your mind, I'll be right over there." He points to the dance floor before he moonwalks away.
I nod, grateful for him being so understanding, and settle back into my seat.
As I sip my drink, I watch the crowd, scanning the faces for any familiar ones, but then my eye catches someone.
Her . The girl from the hotel lobby. She’s dancing with her friends in the middle of the dance floor, swaying those lovely hips to the beat of the music.
She’s gorgeous.
I had been on the phone with Harlow. I was stressed out and trying to keep my cool, but then I caught her staring at me and I couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was. She was wearing a tight t-shirt and yoga pants, which hugged her curves in all the right places. To top it off, she had a hoodie tied around her waist, completing the effortless, yet irresistible travel look.
I had hoped to run into her again at the hotel, but seeing her now feels like fate, like it’s God’s way of saying, "Hey, there she is. "
Her eyes sparkle under the lights, and her hair is styled in soft waves that cascade down her back. She’s wearing a sleek black dress that accentuates her form, making her look like a goddess among mortals. There’s something pure and innocent about her that intrigues me, and I can’t stop myself from imagining what it would be like to have her sway those hips against me. But then reality snaps me back to attention.
She looks like a girl who romanticizes life—a life I can't offer right now. I'm not here for love or romance. I'm here on a mission: to find a woman who will sign papers, stay married for a year, and then disappear.
I finish my drink and stand up from the table, ready to continue my search.
It's just business, nothing personal.
But as the night wears on, I can't shake the feeling that tonight won't be the night I find the one. The crowded bar is buzzing with energy, but I feel like an outsider looking in. That's when Julien sidles up to me with a grin on his face.
"What's up, man? Why do you look like someone stole your puppy?" he asks, his laughter echoing around us.
I look at him, my brows furrowing. "I'm not in the mood for this tonight. I need another drink."
I make my way to the bar and after ordering another one, I hear a soft voice. I turn to see the girl standing there, her big green eyes hesitant.
Lobby-Girl.
What are the odds?
"Hi," she says with a small, nervous smile on her lips.
Leaning in closer to her ear, I whisper back, "Hi." Staying close, I continue, "Do I know you?" I haven’t been able to shake her from my thoughts since I laid my eyes on her, but she doesn’t have to know that.
"No, you don't know me," she says softly, her eyes boring into mine. She tries to flirt with a bad pick-up line, and I can't help but find it endearing.
"Leora," she introduces herself with a soft smile. I take her hand in mine, and I feel a jolt of electricity shoot up my arm as our skin touches. Leora , I’ve never heard that name before.
I like it.
"Lucas," I reply, holding onto her hand for a moment longer than necessary. Her eyes meet mine, and I can see the spark of attraction that I'm certain is mirrored in mine.
Leora's voice is sweet as she leans in to compliment one of my tattoos. Her eyes fixate on the inked wings adorning my forearm, and a genuine smile graces her lips. I nod, a hint of nostalgia in my eyes as I look at the wings. It’s the tattoo I got with Liam, twenty years after our parents’ passing.
Leora's gaze softens, and she must have noticed the melancholy on my face. Swiftly, she changes the subject, steering the conversation toward a lighter topic.
"So, Lucas, can I buy you a drink?
I look down at the glass in my hand and politely decline, offering to buy her one instead.
She tells me she's here with her friends and then she points toward two girls at the end of the bar, one with dark hair and the other blonde. I recognize them immediately. They were standing in line to the club when I was walking in. Those two were facing me while the third girl—whom I assume was Leora—had her back turned. I overheard them talking while I exchanged pleasantries with the bouncer. They mentioned some kind of mission and that one of the girls was supposed to go up to a guy in the club. At first, I brushed it off as something silly. Why would any of them need a mission to approach a guy? And for what?
But then it hits me, she must have been the girl who got the mission, and I’m the guy .
Which means she’s only talking to me to complete her mission—to gain some brownie points with her friends. Not because she has any kind of interest in me.
My smile fades as I realize the truth. I shouldn't have let my guard down so easily.
"Do you want anything else?"
"I’m sorry?" Her eyes widen as she blinks, looking completely caught off guard.
I lock my gaze onto hers. "Well, sweetheart," I say, leaning slightly closer, my tone firm, "let me put it simply for you: we talked, I bought you a drink, and that's the end of this transaction."
Before I get the chance to turn around, she throws her drink at me. The liquid splatters all over my shirt, and I feel the sting of the alcohol in my eyes. Leora storms off, leaving me standing there in shock. The people around us are staring, and I can hear someone snickering in the background. My hands curl into fists as I try to control the anger bubbling inside of me. I won't let her get the best of me. As I make my way to the bathroom to clean up, I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, but I try my best to ignore them.
I walk back to my table, my shirt still wet, but before my ass even reaches the sofa, a scratchy, drunken female voice reaches me. "Lucas, is that you?"
No way . My already awful night takes a turn for the worse.
As I turn around, I see her—Melina, my ex-girlfriend—stumbling toward me with a drink in her hand, looking as beautiful as always. But the beauty can’t mask the toxicity that is Melina.
I brace myself for the worst as she slurs, "I thought it was you. How've you been, baby?"
I force a tight-lipped smile, trying to hide my discomfort. "I'm good, Melina. How about you?" I ask, trying to keep the conversation polite. She plops herself down on my lap, spilling her drink in the process.
"I miss you," she slurs, and I can’t help but feel a mix of disgust and pity. As fate would have it, Leora and her friends stroll by at that exact moment, and I catch her friend throwing me a disgusted side eye.
Lord, give me strength.
Leaning in closer to me, Melina continues, "Why did we ever break up?"
I push her away gently, trying not to cause a scene.
"I'm not interested in rehashing the past."
"But I still love you," she protests, taking a sip from her drink while spilling some on me. "Can't we give it another try?"
I sigh, feeling uncomfortable and frustrated. "No, Melina. It's not going to happen. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go clean this mess up."
With that, I get up from the couch, move her off to the side, and make my way to the bathroom to clean the spilled drink off my shirt, again.
I sit at my desk, scrolling through the endless list of candidates for the role of marketing manager. I've been at it for hours, but no one feels right. So far, I’ve met with five candidates, but there's no passion in their eyes. No spark. I need someone who’s ready to stand up for what they believe in, someone who doesn’t roll over as soon as I say no. I need some push and pull.
I feel my eyes start to glaze over at the dull content, and I quickly close the computer. As I lean back in my chair, I can't help but think about Leora again. No one has ever thrown a drink in my face. While I'm still pissed, I can’t help but admit that I like the fire in her. It intrigues me. I’ve never met a woman like her before.
My phone buzzes. I look to find a message from Julien.
Julien
The guys and I are planning on going out for some drinks, you joining?
Me
Send me the details and I’ll meet you later.
When I check the time, I realize that I've been at it for far too long. Grabbing my jacket, I head to the office elevator. The office is located on the top floor, which gives us an incredible view of the city and the sea.
As I’m about to exit the hotel, I see three girls walking toward the hotel bar. Among them, one stands out, her sweet voice hanging in the air. I could recognize it anywhere—Leora.
I should probably mind my own business and meet up with the guys at the bar Julien texted me about. What I shouldn’t do is follow them, but my legs are already moving on instinct, and I curse myself for it.
I don’t know why I just can’t leave it alone. A part of me is pissed because she ruined my night, while another part is even more pissed because she’s occupied my headspace for the past few days. I don’t have time for it and I especially don’t have time for her.
Yet, here I am, wasting my time following them.
As I step inside, the familiar sound of chatter and clinking glasses washes over me. The walls are adorned with vintage photographs and art deco fixtures, giving the space a timeless, sophisticated feel. My eyes wander over to the bar, and I find her in a few seconds. Leora is perched on a stool, surrounded by her two friends, her laughter ringing out above the noise. I don't think she would be laughing if I went up to her and threw a drink in her face.
I think about doing it for a second too long before I find a seating area close by that’s hidden from their line of sight. I order a whiskey and sit back, trying to listen in on their conversation without being obvious. I find myself trying to catch a glimpse of her and watch as the soft glow of the warm lighting illuminates her face, making her look ethereal.
Why does she have to be so damn beautiful?
It’s annoying.
It has to be a test. God must have put her here to test my patience.
"Oh my god. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many gorgeous men in the same place, and the way they danced ." Leora takes a sip of her drink while she fans her face with her other hand.
Did she throw anything in their faces?
Get a grip.
Another voice chimes in, "Girl, I think I found my first, second, and third husband yesterday."
They all laugh and clink their glasses together, the sound echoing in the noisy room. I roll my eyes and take another sip of my whiskey, feeling a sense of disinterest wash over me. A few minutes pass—or maybe more, I’m not sure—and I’m just about to leave when Leora's phone makes a sound, interrupting their conversation. I watch as her face immediately falls as she reads the message.
I lean forward a bit to hear them better.
"It's John," she says, her energy draining. From her reaction, he’s probably a dickhead.
"What does he want?" her friend asks with disgust dripping from her tone.
"He’s asking when I’m coming back."
The dark-haired friend notices the change in her demeanor and says, "Girl, delete that message and block him. You’re not answering or entertaining him. His negativity is not needed in your life."
How poetic .
"You're right," Leora nods and starts typing away on her phone. "Done! The only thing I need now are you two and, hopefully, a new job." Her shoulders drop as she continues, "I actually applied to a few roles before we came here, but most of them rejected me. Apparently, I don’t have the 'marketing experience' they’re looking for."
I take another sip of my whiskey. So she’s unemployed and is looking for a marketing role.
What about the marketing role at the hotel?
I quickly shut down that thought. Why would I do that? Give a stranger a chance to ruin more than just one of my shirts? No thanks.
"It will come, don’t worry about it." Her friend soothes her.
"Yeah," she huffs the word out before she jumps down from her chair. "I need to use the restroom." She stands up and collects her bag.
I turn to look around for the bathroom and lo and behold, the WC sign is right in front of me. Fuck, my luck is just not it.
When I turn to make a swift exit, I’m met by Leora's piercing gaze which is locked on me. Her eyes are ice cold.
"Fancy seeing you here." I say with a wry smile.
"Are you stalking me or something?" Her arms cross in front of her chest.
I look at her in disbelief. "Stalking you? Please. I have better things to do."
"Then why are you here, blocking my way?"
"I work here, darling, and if I happen to remember correctly, you were the one who was staring at me when we first met. And the second time we crossed paths? You came up to me." I lean forward slightly, wanting to make a point. " You seem to be stalking me."
Leora opens her mouth to argue back, but then thinks better of it, clearly a bit embarrassed. As she should be.
"Whatever. Just leave me alone, okay?" she says before storming past me to the bathroom, her shoulder colliding with mine on the way.
I really need to start avoiding this girl.