Chapter 29 Lucas
Lucas
Ileave the office still agitated, an itchy feeling beneath my skin that I can’t shake.
Melvin chatters away for the first half of the drive home, but as my responses get more monosyllabic, he eventually falls silent. I nurse my drink, staring morosely out of the window.
I should be elated by the deal with Barnes. I should be calling my co-workers and shoving it down the throats of those who doubted I would pull it off.
But instead, I just feel numb, wondering idly what Amelia is doing.
Would it be insane for me to ask Melvin to drive me to her place?
Yes. That would be insane. I’ve already stretched the rules with her hours enough, but the lines between us are becoming increasingly blurred.
The way she cared for me when I was sick has stuck with me for days. She didn’t just come by, dump the files, and head back to the office. She went up to my room, took my temperature, and brought me Tylenol and ice water throughout the day. It was caring, thoughtful, and unexpected.
I finish my drink as Melvin pulls up to my apartment.
“Have a good night,” I murmur. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Everything alright, sir?” he asks.
“Yeah. I’m just exhausted.”
I get out of the car, watching the Lexus roll away into the night, and consider calling Amelia. My jaw clenches as my hand moves automatically toward the pocket where my cell rests against my chest.
Why do I want to see her so badly? I’m not even horny. I just want to tell her about my day. Fuck.
As I walk through the lobby of the apartment building, I’m aware of high heels clicking nearby. That isn’t so unusual, but when they follow me to the elevator, I turn, anticipating the manager needing to speak to me about something.
Instead, it’s Megan.
She’s standing behind me, her hair falling in long, beautiful cascades down her back. A dark green dress hugs her figure beneath a designer black jacket that probably cost more than my suit.
Her lipstick and makeup are flawless; her beautiful face framed with loose strands of hair that I’ve curled behind her ears countless times.
What the hell is she doing here?
“Hi Lucas,” she says breezily, glancing at the elevator. I haven’t called it, and I don’t plan to until she tells me what she wants.
“Megan,” I say, staring her down, and she rolls her eyes.
“My God, you’re so irritable these days. It’s like talking to Hans Gruber.”
I can’t help but smile at that. She always joked that my obsession with never having socks and shoes on was due to my love of the film Die Hard.
“What do you want, Meg?” I ask, and she softens at the nickname.
“I wanted to take you to dinner. I feel like things are still a little… awkward between us, and your mother was on at me about it.”
“My mother?”
“Yes. She has some intriguing misconceptions that I broke your heart. She’s adamant that I have to make amends so that we can be a big happy family again.”
Huh. Elona is full of surprises.
“You want to take me to dinner?” I ask skeptically.
“Hanson’s is only around the corner, and you know I love that place. I haven’t been in forever. For old times' sake?”
She looks at me through her lashes, her eyelids hooded and sensual. God, what that look used to do to me. There’s every chance she ends up in my bed tonight, and I jump at the opportunity to banish thoughts of Amelia for good.
Maybe this is just what I need. To get into bed with someone else and realize that Amelia isn’t quite as perfect as my mind has made her out to be.
“Sure,” I say, watching that red-lipped smile spread over her face. “Hanson’s sounds good.”
The restaurant is quiet when we arrive as it’s still fairly early. There’s a small group of men in suits at the bar making their way through a bottle of whiskey, and Megan has the waiter wrapped around her finger before we’ve even sat down.
I order a good bottle of red, not too good, but nice enough, and we look over the menu.
Megan’s bright red nails look strange. I realize I’ve grown used to Amelia’s plain, slender fingers. I look at her hands for a little too long, and she catches me staring.
“Sinclair said I looked like a Christmas tree this morning,” she jokes, taking a sip of her water.
“Does he know where you are right now?” I ask as the waiter pours the wine.
“No. But then, he doesn’t need to know where I am every minute of the day. He’s not my keeper.”
What will Sinclair do if we end up fucking tonight?
It would be reckless on my part to attempt it. My family dynamic is strained enough without me adding that into the mix. But it’s tempting to get one over on him.
I place my menu down with a slap, ready to order, and Megan glances at me, her eyes narrowing.
“Are you in a hurry?” she asks, sounding intrigued. “I didn’t think that you’d have plans tonight.”
“What plans could I possibly have without you, darling?” I ask mockingly.
“Well, exactly,” she replies, and I laugh as she bats her eyelashes at me. “You’re looking better than when I last saw you.” Her eyes move over my neck and down my chest. “New haircut?”
“New suit.”
And I’ve gotten laid more times than I care to count, which helps.
“Hm, it’s nice. One of Ellie’s?” she asks.
“Of course.”
“I miss her. I might go back and see if she has anything new for me.”
“I’m sure she’d love to see you.”
We go through the motions, Megan asking about my life, me asking about hers. It feels as if we’re gliding in a spiral downward, like she’s slowly leading me somewhere, but I’m not sure of the destination. Every time I take a sip of my wine, she tops up my glass.
As our food arrives, Megan picks up her fork, spinning it in her palm continually as she eats. It’s one of the things that used to irritate me most when we were together. Why she can’t put it down in between bites is beyond me.
“So, how’s the merger going?” she asks.
“Fine,” I say. “Things are moving forward.”
“Moving forward? Last I heard, it was a stalemate.”
“Well, Franklin is a pretty stubborn guy, but I’m wearing him down.”
“That’s good. Did you come to an agreement about his staff?”
“To an extent.”
She’s looking down at her food, and I watch her for a moment. She’s popping pieces of pasta into her mouth quickly and efficiently. It’s almost mechanical, like she’s on autopilot—and then it hits me.
She’s here to get the lowdown on my deal so she can pass it on to Sinclair. God, I’m such an idiot.
She takes her phone from her bag, scrolling through her messages with those claw-like nails.
I stare at her, taking in her face as though seeing it for the first time.
This woman never really cared for me. As soon as we got engaged, it was like a switch flipped in her head, and she started to look for a better offer.
Christ, why did I once find her so attractive?
Now as I watch her there’s an unpleasant twist to her mouth that’s cynical and cruel. It’s always been there, but I used to find it endearing. Amelia’s mouth is always soft and smooth, smiling often, even when I’m being difficult and moody around her.
Megan looks up at me, smirking as she sees me watching her.
“Do you know, Meg, I think I’ve had my fill,” I say quietly, and she frowns at me as I drain my glass.
“You’re finished already? But you’ve barely touched your food.”
“I realize that. Let’s tell my mother that we’re friends again, hm?” I lean forward. “Give my regards to Sinclair, and you can let him know that Barnes and I have come to an agreement, and it’s going to be one of the most successful deals I’ve ever made.”
I place my napkin beside my plate and rise, buttoning up my jacket.
“Thank you for dinner, I do love our catch-ups, but I’m not interested in playing second fiddle. Go find another booty call. I’ll see you at Christmas.”
Her mouth drops open as I turn and walk out of the restaurant. I feel liberated. Free. All the time I wasted pining after that woman now seems laughable.
I’ve had so many discussions with my mother and father, my brothers, Ambrose, about how she broke me, how she was such an important part of my life. Now, sitting across from her while she weaves her devious little webs for her new lover, I feel nothing at all.
How strange the heart is. Fixated one moment, indifferent the next. I pull out my cell as I walk back to my apartment, desperate to call Amelia. I feel, in a strange way, as if I’ve cheated just by being around Megan again.
Was I really planning to casually fuck her to get back at Sinclair? What the actual fuck?
I get into the elevator, putting my phone back in my pocket and breathing a heavy sigh. Whatever this thing with Amelia is, it will pass, just like with Megan, and I’ll look back and laugh at how caught up I was on an escort.
That’s what will happen.
It has to.