Chapter 9
Alison
I checked my reflection in the café window, smoothing a stray hair back into place.
The upscale coffee shop I had chosen to do some quick work was busy with the morning rush—professionals grabbing expensive lattes before heading to their offices.
I'd arrived early, needing time to collect my thoughts.
William Black's card felt like it was burning a hole in my purse. I hadn't called him, hadn't pursued whatever strange theory he had about our blood connection. Some truths were better left undiscovered, especially when they involved Victoria's family.
"Medium cappuccino for Alison," the barista called.
I collected my drink and settled at a corner table, reviewing the Preston Energy proposal on my tablet. The bid was promising, our numbers solid. If we secured this contract, my position at Nexus would be secure for the foreseeable future—financial stability for Leo and me in our new home.
"Working so early. That's dedication."
I looked up, startled to find Lucas Hawkins standing by my table, his presence commanding enough to make several nearby patrons glance our way. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, his amber eyes intense as they studied me.
"Mr. Hawkins," I managed, quickly closing my tablet. "This is a surprise."
"Lucas," he corrected, gesturing to the empty chair across from me. "May I?"
I hesitated, then nodded, acutely aware of how my heart rate had accelerated. "I'm meeting Victor soon to discuss the Preston bid."
"I know." A slight smile curved his lips.
"What do you want, Lucas?" I asked, deciding directness was my best defense.
"To clear the air," he replied, his gaze never leaving mine. "Five years is a long time for misunderstandings to fester."
I raised an eyebrow. "Misunderstandings? Is that what you call firing me based on false evidence and Victoria's manipulation? Or wait, what is also when you called me a saboteur and tried to pay me off because you thought Victor set you up using me?"
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I discovered the truth too late. By the time I realized Victoria had orchestrated your dismissal, you'd already left the country."
"With good reason," I countered, memories of those desperate weeks flooding back. "I couldn't find work anywhere in the city. Someone—" I gave him a pointed look, "—made sure of that."
"Not me," Lucas said firmly. "Victoria, yes. But not me."
I wanted to believe him. Something in his voice, in those amber eyes, seemed genuinely regretful. But I'd learned the hard way not to trust appearances.
"It doesn't matter now," I said, taking a sip of my cappuccino to steady myself. "That was a lifetime ago."
"Was it?" Lucas leaned forward slightly. "You've changed, Alison. Grown stronger, more confident. But some things remain the same."
My phone rang, interrupting whatever he was about to say next. Victor's name flashed on the screen.
"Aren't you going to answer that?" Lucas asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
I hesitated, then picked up the call, putting it on speaker. "Good morning, Victor."
"Alison!" Victor's voice came through, sounding pleased. "I have excellent news about the Preston bid—our preliminary numbers are looking even better than we anticipated."
Lucas's jaw tightened, his eyes never leaving my face as Victor continued.
"We should celebrate tonight. Dinner, perhaps? That new French place everyone's talking about."
I glanced at Lucas, whose expression had darkened considerably. A reckless impulse seized me—why not let him see that I had moved on, that others valued what he had discarded?
"That sounds lovely, Victor," I replied, keeping my voice warm. "What time were you thinking?"
"Seven? I can pick you up at your place."
Lucas's hand shot out suddenly, grabbing mine where it rested on the table. His touch sent an electric current racing up my arm, and I nearly dropped the phone.
"Actually," he said loudly enough for Victor to hear, "Alison's a bit busy at the moment."
There was a pause on the line. "Lucas?" Victor's voice had lost its warmth, turning sharp. "What are you doing with Alison?"
"Having coffee," Lucas replied casually, his thumb tracing circles on my wrist in a way that made concentration nearly impossible. "Just catching up on old times."
I tried to pull my hand away, but Lucas tightened his grip, not painfully but firmly enough to keep me in place.
"Alison?" Victor's voice held a question. "Is everything all right?"
"Fine," I managed, though my voice sounded strained even to my own ears. "Lucas just stopped by unexpectedly. We were discussing the Preston bid."
"I see." Victor's tone cooled further.
Lucas lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm that sent heat cascading through me. I gasped involuntarily, the sound unmistakable over the phone.
"Alison?" Victor's concern was evident now. "What's happening?"
"Nothing," I said quickly, finally yanking my hand free from Lucas's grasp. "I'll see you in fifteen minutes, Victor."
I ended the call, glaring at Lucas. "What the hell was that?"
His eyes had darkened to a molten gold, something primal lurking in their depths. "You're playing with fire, Alison. Victor Chen is not someone you should be getting close to."
"That's none of your business," I snapped, gathering my things. "Who I see, who I date—none of it concerns you."
"Everything about you concerns me," Lucas growled, standing as I did.
"Goodbye, Lucas," I said firmly, and walked out of the café. Lucas came after me.
His hand caught my arm, spinning me back toward him with surprising strength. Before I could protest, his lips crashed down on mine, stealing my breath and my resolve in one devastating kiss.
For a moment, a treacherous, reckless moment, I melted against him, my body remembering what my mind had tried so hard to forget. The heat of him, the taste, the overwhelming sense of rightness that defied all logic.
Then reality came crashing back, and I tore my lips away, my hand connecting with his cheek in a resounding slap that turned heads.
"Don't ever do that again," I hissed, my voice shaking with anger and something far more dangerous.
Lucas didn't even flinch, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Your lips say no, but your body remembers, doesn't it? The way we fit together, the way we—"
"Stop," I cut him off, my cheeks burning. "That night was a mistake. A drunken mistake that ruined my life."
Something flickered in his eyes—pain, perhaps, or regret. "Is that really how you see it? A mistake that ruined your life?"
"What else would I call it?" I challenged. "You humiliated me, accused me of being a prostitute, then fired me when I was pregnant with—" I stopped myself abruptly, horrified at what I'd nearly revealed.
Lucas went utterly still. "When you were pregnant," he repeated, his voice deadly quiet. "Finish that sentence, Alison."
"I have to go," I said, backing away. "Victor is waiting."
"Victor can keep waiting," Lucas replied, closing the distance between us in two long strides. He took my arm, not roughly but with unmistakable purpose, and guided me toward the back of the café. "Come with me."
"What are you doing?" I protested as he steered me through a door marked "Private" into what appeared to be a small conference room attached to the café.
I figured they probably rent it out for meetings.
How did he gain access to it? I wondered.
But then I stopped wondering about it. Lucas has his ways.
"Finishing our conversation," he said, closing the door behind us with a decisive click. "Away from prying eyes and ears."
The room was dimly lit, with a polished table and leather chairs. Windows along one wall overlooked an alley, providing privacy from the busy street.
"This is inappropriate," I said, keeping the table between us. "I need to meet Victor."
"Victor can wait," Lucas repeated, his eyes burning into mine. "We have unfinished business, you and I."
"There is no 'you and I,'" I insisted, even as my body betrayed me with a rush of heat at his proximity.
"No?" He moved around the table with predatory grace. "Then why does your pulse race when I'm near? Why did you respond to my kiss as if five years hadn't passed?"
"Physical attraction doesn't change what happened between us."
"No, it doesn't," he agreed, stopping directly in front of me. "But it does prove that whatever this is between us isn't finished. Not by a long shot."
I backed up until I hit the wall, Lucas following until he stood mere inches away, his scent enveloping me. Sandalwood and spice. Unique. Intoxicating.
"Lucas," I whispered, intending it as a warning but hearing the wanting in my own voice. "We can't."
"We already are," he murmured, and then his lips were on mine again, gentler this time but no less devastating.
My resistance crumbled like sand against the tide. Five years of denying, of pretending I didn't still dream of him, of reminding myself of every reason to hate him—all of it washed away in the flood of sensation as his hands tangled in my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss.
I moaned against his mouth, my hands fisting in his jacket, pulling him closer even as my mind screamed at me to push him away. His body pressed against mine, hard and urgent, a reminder of that night five years ago when we'd first come together in a haze of need.
"Tell me to stop," he breathed against my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. "Tell me you don't want this."
"I can't," I admitted, gasping as his hands slid down my sides to lift me onto the conference table. "God help me, I can't."
He let out a sound of satisfaction, low and primal, before reclaiming my mouth in a kiss that was all heat and urgency.
His hands pushed my skirt up my thighs, fingers brushing along my skin with a hunger that made my breath hitch.
At the same time, my own hands were at his tie, yanking it loose, my fingers trembling as I attacked the buttons of his shirt, desperate to reach the warmth of the skin I remembered so vividly.