15. Jarvin
CHAPTER 15
Jarvin
I step out of the elevator, the warmth of Lucy's lips still lingering on mine. Each step she takes feels like a knife twisting in my gut. I know that kiss affected her as deeply as it did me; I saw the fire in her eyes, felt the intensity in her touch. But her retreat worries me.
My fists clench involuntarily. I can't let this be the end. I watch her until she rounds the corner, disappearing from sight. The tension between us was palpable, electric, undeniable. There's no way she can just walk away from that—walk away from us.
"Damn it," I mutter under my breath, shaking my head. How can she be so damn stubborn? Her need to keep things professional is driving me mad, but it's also what makes her... well fuck, her. That fierce independence, that resolve—it's part of what keeps drawing me to her.
When I get home, I head straight to my home office and drop into my chair, running a hand through my hair. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Should I give her space? Should I push harder? The thought of losing her—of never exploring what we could be—is unbearable.
Damn it all.
The feel of her hands wrapped tightly in the front of my jacket. The taste of her kiss. It's all-consuming, reconciling the way she melted into me with the way her walls came slamming down just when things were getting heavy.
I stand and pace the room. This can’t be it; this can’t be how our story ends before it even begins.
Lucy isn't just another challenge; she's someone who’s become unexpectedly important to me. Someone worth fighting for. If only she could just see what I see.
The next morning, I arrive at the office before anyone else, my mind focused on one thing: talking to Lucy. The kiss from last night still lingers on my lips, and I need to address it. As I step out of the elevator, I see her already at her desk, engrossed in her work.
"Lucy," I call out, walking toward her with determined strides.
She looks up, her eyes widening for a split second before she masks her emotions with a professional facade. "Good morning, Mr. Thraknar," she says, her tone clipped but cordial. I know now that she's just putting on a facade, a ploy to push me away and avoid the truth of her feelings.
"Can we talk?" I ask, my voice leaving no room for refusal.
She hesitates but eventually nods. We move to a private conference room, the tension between us palpable. As soon as the door closes behind us, I turn to face her.
"Lucy," I begin, trying to keep my voice steady. "About last night?—"
"Jarvin, this can't happen," she interrupts, raising a hand to stop me. "We need to keep things professional."
"I can't pretend that kiss didn't happen," I say, my eyes locked onto hers. "I can't ignore how I feel, how I've felt since the day we met."
She takes a deep breath, clearly struggling with her own emotions. "We have to," she insists. "We're colleagues now. This... this complicates things."
"Complicates?" I repeat, stepping closer to her. "Or maybe it makes things clearer?"
Her eyes flicker with something as she shakes her head. "No, Jarvin. We can't let personal feelings interfere with our work."
"I'm not just talking about personal feelings," I argue, frustration creeping into my voice. "There's something real here, Lucy. I felt it at the airport, and I felt it last night. You can tell me you didn't, but I know you felt it too."
She crosses her arms defensively. "That doesn't change the fact that we have to work together every day."
I reach out and gently touch her arm, hoping to break through her barriers. "Lucy, I'm not asking you to throw caution to the wind. I'm asking you to acknowledge that there's something worth exploring here."
Her gaze softens for a moment before hardening again. "Jarvin," she pleads, her voice cracking as those green eyes hold mine. "We need to maintain our professional relationship. It's what's best for both of us."
I feel a surge of frustration at Lucy's words. My instincts scream at me to challenge her resistance. I loathe being denied something I want so badly. My jaw tightens as I take a deep breath, fighting to maintain my composure.
"Lucy," I say, my voice low and controlled, "you're not seeing the full picture here."
Her eyes flash with anger. "It's not just about us, Jarvin. It's about our careers, our reputations. Why can't you see that?"
I take a step closer, feeling the intensity of the moment crackle between us. "You think I don't understand that? I'm well aware of what's at stake."
She crosses her arms defensively, her posture stiffening. "Then you should know why this can't happen."
"Why?" I challenge my tone hardening. "Because you're scared? Because you're afraid of what people might say?"
Her eyes narrow, and she takes a step back, putting more distance between us. "It's more than that," she insists. "I've worked hard to get where I am. I can't risk it all for... for this."
"And you think I'm willing to risk less?" I counter, my frustration boiling over. "Do you think this is easy for me?"
Lucy looks away, her shoulders slumping slightly. "No," she admits softly. "But it's different for you. You're the CEO; I'm just your secretary."
I feel a pang of anger mixed with sadness at her words. "You're not 'just' anything, Lucy. You're talented, driven, and you've got more potential than you realize."
She meets my gaze again, her eyes filled with conflicting emotions. "And that's exactly why we can't do this," she says firmly. "Like you said, we have to think about the bigger picture."
I let out a slow breath, trying to rein in my frustration. "Fine," I say through gritted teeth.
I watch as she composes herself, giving me a nod as she walks out of the conference room. The pang of frustration, of need, aches in my chest. There has to be a way to make her see. Damn it. This can't be it.
Back in my office, I can't concentrate. Lucy's rejection replays in my mind, fueling my annoyance. I pace the room, my thoughts a chaotic mess of strategies and emotions. Every step feels like I'm treading on a battlefield with no clear way forward.
Finally, I slam my hand down on the desk, the sound echoing in the quiet room. The sting in my palm is a welcome distraction from the turmoil inside me.
I glance at the clock, realizing I've been stewing for too long. I need to clear my head. With a sigh, I decide to call Sam, an old friend who always has a knack for giving blunt advice.
"Hey, man," I say when he picks up. "I need some perspective."
"Jarvin! What's got you so wound up?" His voice is casual, but I can hear the curiosity.
"It's this woman," I begin, pacing again. "We had this... moment. But now she wants to keep things professional because we work together."
He laughs lightly. "Sounds like she's got her head screwed on right."
I bristle at his comment but press on. "You don't get it. There's something real here. She refuses to acknowledge it, and I can't just let it go."
"Look," he says more seriously. "You've got to stop being pushy about this. Let her come to you."
"Come to me?" I repeat incredulously. "That's unlikely."
"And throwing a tantrum about it isn't?" He chuckles, and it's clear he's enjoying this a bit too much. "Jarvin, try seeing things from her perspective. She's probably scared of losing her job or being seen as less professional. You're the CEO, man."
His words hit me hard. I've been so focused on what I want that I haven't fully considered how she must feel. I've been pining after her all this time without ever looking past my own desires.
"You're right," I admit reluctantly.
"Damn straight I am," he says with a laugh. "Just give her space and time."
Later that evening, I sit in my dimly lit living room, nursing a glass of whiskey. The events of the day play on a loop in my mind, but now, with Sam’s words echoing in my ears, I see things differently. Lucy's resistance isn't just stubbornness; it's a defense mechanism. She’s protecting herself from potential heartache and professional fallout. Something I should have recognized from the start.
I lean back on the couch, letting the realization sink in like a heavy weight. Pushing too hard will only make her retreat further into her shell. I've got to be smarter about this, more strategic. Our chemistry is undeniable; it’s like a spark that refuses to die out, no matter how much we try to ignore it or pretend it’s not there.
I can't help but think of how she felt against me, the intensity that strummed between us. No, I need to give her space, but I won't give up. Not when I know what we could have together.
A determined smile slides onto my face. I can work with this. Instead of forcing encounters or making grand gestures, I’ll create natural opportunities for us to interact. I’ll let the tension build, allow our mutual attraction to simmer just below the surface. The idea fills me with a new sense of resolve.
I take another sip of whiskey, already planning my next move. Tomorrow, I’ll start with something simple—maybe a casual conversation about a project we’re working on or a shared lunch break that feels spontaneous. I’ll leverage those moments when we’re alone but keep it professional enough not to spook her.
The key is patience and subtlety. I need to let her see that I respect her boundaries while still making it clear that I'm interested. No sudden moves, no overwhelming gestures. Just a steady, consistent presence. I’ll be the one she turns to when she’s ready, the one she trusts implicitly.
Tomorrow marks the beginning of a new approach—a more measured and strategic one. And this time, I’m confident that Lucy won’t be able to resist what’s brewing between us for long.