Twenty-Three
TWENTY-THREE
LEORA
T here's a knock on my bedroom door, and when I glance at the clock, it's two am. Despite the late hour, I open it, and there stands Lucas.
"It’s the middle of the night, Lucas." He doesn’t answer, only stares at me with an intense, dominant look on his face.
What does he want?
"Lucas, what do you—" My question morphs into a yelp as his arms sweep under my ass. He walks toward my bed, throws me down, and I land with a thud.
"Just say it, Leora. Say it and I’ll give you everything." Lucas whispers as he slowly climbs over me, his eyes glowing with an animalistic intensity.
"S-Say what?" I breathe out, feeling his touch all over my body.
"Tell me I’m allowed to touch you in private," he says, his intensity almost too much to bear. My body responds to him, but I'm scared of what it might mean.
"What?" I whisper.
Lucas leans down and kisses me softly, his lips brushing against mine in a gentle caress. "I'll make you feel good, I promise."
His words soothe my soul, and I nod in agreement. "Touch me." I say, my voice shaky. "Please, touch me."
A mischievous smile spreads across his face, and he begins to explore my body with his hands, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. He moves from my chest to my waist and down to the hem of my panties, tugging them down.
"Look at you, all needy. Do you want me that bad?" he teases.
"Lucas, please." I’m panting at this point, needing his hands on me.
"Please, what?"
"Just touch me, dammit." I’ve wanted him for so long. I need him to take this ache away.
He chuckles at my lack of patience as he bends down, hovering over my core.
"Do you want me to touch you here?" He uses his finger to touch my most sensitive spot, and I huff impatiently as his laugh grows huskier.
"My impatient girl."
He licks his lips and bends down, but stops a breath away from the place I need him most. "What's that?"
I hear my phone ringing, but I'm so into what's to come that I don't want to stop.
"What?" I breathe, my voice shaking with need.
"Your alarm—turn it off and I’ll make you feel good." Lucas pulls away and looks at me with a quizzical expression.
My alarm?
What alarm?
I wake up with a start, my heart racing and my body covered in sweat. I take a deep breath, trying to calm down and clear my head.
It was a dream . . . and it felt so real.
I can still feel his touch on my skin, his breath on my neck, and his finger on my?—
I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the memory, but it lingers.
Did I really just have a sex dream about Lucas?
I bury my face in my hands, trying to shake off the feeling. It was just a dream, nothing more. It’s okay to have dreams like that; especially when you live with a man that looks like Lucas. I’m just feeling a little bit frustrated and lonely. But it doesn’t mean anything.
I really need to get myself a toy or something, because if I have more of these dreams, I’ll probably be the one pounding on his door in the middle of the night, begging him to take the edge off.
We can’t have that.
I get up and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles from the tension of the dream. I make my way to the bathroom and splash some water on my face, trying to shake off the last remnants of the dream before I take a cold shower.
When I emerge from my room dressed in black slacks, a blouse, and my new favorite black Manolo's, a pleasant scent of cinnamon and vanilla fills the air, making me feel at ease. As I walk toward the kitchen, I'm momentarily stunned by the sight of Lucas—shirtless, wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants, and with damp hair from his morning shower.
Did he take one because he usually showers in the morning? Or because he needed one in the same way I did?
My gaze shifts to his back again. I notice the way his muscles ripple as he moves around the kitchen, expertly flipping a slice of French toast in the pan. When he reaches up to grab a plate from the cabinet, his back muscles contract and flex, drawing my attention to the defined lines running down his spine. His shoulder blades protrude slightly, adding to the aesthetic appeal of his toned physique. He must work out a lot because there’s muscle on the muscles. He leans over slightly for something on the counter and I can't help but sneak a peek at his ass, which looks firm and perfectly shaped in those gray sweatpants. The way he moves is almost hypnotic—I’m both drawn to him and a little lightheaded.
This show is exactly the opposite of what I needed this morning. I need him to dress in very oversized clothes, preferably all day, every day.
I clear my throat to announce my presence, and he turns around, a smirk forming on his lips as he takes in my outfit.
"Good morning," he says, his voice sweet. "Are you ready for your first day at work?" He’s genuinely trying to act friendly, but I can’t focus. It's taking a lot of energy not to blatantly stare at his tattooed chest. He has a full sleeve that continues on to his chest. Every single one of his tattoos is a work of art. There's a beautiful rosary that wraps around his arm, mirroring the one in his car. However, the one that grabs my attention the most is on his pectoral. Two doves are nestled closely together, with the number nineteen ninety-five elegantly written underneath.
A blush creeps up my neck, and I avert my gaze, trying to focus on something else. "Is that French toast I smell?" I ask, attempting to change the subject.
He nods, grabbing the plate he just brought down and expertly placing a stack of golden-brown slices on it. "Yes, I thought I'd surprise you with breakfast."
I can't help but smile at his thoughtfulness. "Thank you, Lucas. That's very sweet of you."
He hands me the plate and I take a seat at the kitchen island. I take a bite and, my God, it’s heavenly. I close my eyes, savoring the aroma and the delicious taste of the French toast. Lucas places a cup of coffee in front of me on the island before he sits down across from me, his own cup of coffee in hand as he scrolls through his phone.
As I continue to eat, I find myself stealing glances at Lucas, and every time he catches me, my heart beats a little faster. He gives me a playful smirk, and I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks. We continue to exchange furtive glances until Lucas looks up from his phone and our eyes meet again. This time, we hold each other’s gaze a little longer, and the tension between us grows. It's as if we are both searching for something in each other's eyes, something we both seem to be yearning for.
"Did you like it?" he asks me, and I look down at my plate. It’s empty; there's not a single crumb left.
"Yes, it was delicious. Where did you learn to cook like this?"
"My aunt," he says and then adds, "Antoine’s wife."
I perk up at that. I would love to meet Antoine’s wife.
"She passed away a few years ago." A shadow darkens his expression as he shares the news of her passing. Immediately, I feel terrible. Why did I have to ask? He already told me he liked to cook before—I could have kept it at that instead of prying further.
"I'm sorry to hear that. May she rest in peace," I offer.
"Thank you," he replies.
I pick up the cup of coffee he made me, and as I smell it, I realize it’s a cappuccino, my favorite. Bringing it to my lips, I take a sip, savoring the perfect balance of espresso and frothed milk before letting out a satisfied sigh.
"This tastes amazing, Lucas. Thank you."
He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're welcome."
As I take another sip, enjoying the warmth spreading through my body, I notice Lucas's gaze on me. "What?" I ask him.
He shakes his head. "Nothing. I'm going to get dressed, and then we'll leave for the new office."
"New?" I ask, curiously.
"They’re doing some renovations to the old one, so we have to work at a temporary location for a while," he explains while getting up from his seat. "I'll be ready in five minutes." With that, he heads toward his room, leaving me to finish my coffee and gather my wits.
Stepping out of the car, I look up at the towering building before us. Sleek and modern, it presents a stark contrast to the historic architecture of the city.
He grabs my hand and leads the way, his long strides easily eating up the pavement. I try to keep up while taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling street.
We step into the lobby—it's grand and opulent, with chandeliers and marble floors. It’s busy with people, but Lucas expertly navigates us through it. We walk past the elevator and I stop, pulling on his arm.
A puzzled expression crosses his face. "What's wrong?"
"Aren’t we going up?"
"No, this way." Lucas leads me to a grand staircase at the end of the lobby. We begin our ascent, only climbing up two flights of stairs before arriving at our destination.
As Lucas pushes open the door, I step into a spacious, airy office with high ceilings and large windows that let in plenty of natural light. The walls are painted in a soft shade of beige, with a few colorful accents in the form of artwork and plants scattered throughout the space. The floor is made of polished concrete, adding to the modern feel of the office. All the employees are already at their desks, working away. They glance up as we enter, and I sense their curiosity and interest in me as they try to sneak glances.
Lucas turns to me with a dazzling smile. "Welcome to our new office space, wife." The last word reminds me of who I am to him in public, and I wrap the hand that isn’t interlocked with his around his bicep.
"Listen up everyone. I’m very excited to introduce you to your new Marketing Manager, Leora Davis." He pauses to gauge everyone’s reaction, before continuing. "I truly believe that she will do wonders with all of your expertise. Additionally, some of you might already be aware of this, but Leora isn’t only your Marketing Manager, she’s also my wife. So, take care of her." He ends with a wink.
I’m really enjoying seeing his different sides and learning about him. This side is confident and in control—it's clear that he's respected by his employees, but he’s also more relaxed around them, which makes me feel more at ease.
I feel a wave of excitement and a hint of nervousness as all eyes turn to me. "I'm thrilled to be joining this talented team as your new Marketing Manager," I say, trying to project confidence. "I may be Lucas's wife but I can assure you that will not interfere with my ability to lead this team."
I see some surprised and curious expressions in the crowd, but also a few friendly smiles and nods of welcome.
"Also, know that everything you say to me will stay between us. I won’t tell the big guy over here," I say in, what I think, is a playful tone while elbowing Lucas next to me. However, no one laughs or even dares to breathe.
Why am I like this?
I catch Lucas watching me with a confused look, the corner of his lips almost tugging up, before he continues, changing the focus. "Our first priority is to finish planning the hotel opening, and I'm confident that Leora's expertise will be invaluable in making it a success. So, let's get to work."
"Leora."
I recognize the voice and follow the sound to find one of the few people I've met before. A blonde bombshell runs toward me, her arms spread wide before they wrap around me.
Camille.
The hug is warm and familiar. "I'm so happy you're here!" she exclaims in her French accent before she pulls away and looks at my face with a big smile.
"What do you think of the new office? It’s better without elevators, no? Lucas told me that you don’t?—"
The man in question clears his throat, interrupting her just as she’s about to tell me something interesting, "How about we introduce her to Simon?"
My eyes narrow at Lucas, knowing he's trying to divert attention away from what Camille was about to say, but I want to know what he told her.
I look back at her, trying to give her the " tell-me-later" look, but she only purses her lips while directing a lingering gaze at Lucas.
"Okay, follow me," she huffs and turns her back leading us toward a sweet looking man wearing round glasses.
"Leora, this is Simon, our marketing coordinator. You two will probably be working close together."
I regard Simon with a warm smile and extend my hand to shake his. "Nice to meet you, Simon. I'm Leora."
Simon takes my hand in his. "Nice to meet you too, Leora."
"You two will be working closely together to make sure the opening event runs smoothly," Lucas explains, clapping Simon on the back before leading me to my own office. We reach a door to a cozy-looking office, complete with a large window that overlooks the ocean, and there’s also two beautiful plants set in the corners.
"Here it is, your own little space."
My jaw drops as I take in the room in more detail. There’s a brand new laptop on the desk and next to it, I notice a vase of tulips. My eyes widen in surprise and delight, and I can't help but let out a small gasp. He remembered.
Tulips have always been my favorite flowers, and it's such a thoughtful gesture for someone to have put them there for me. If I ask Lucas, he’ll say it was Camille, but I know deep down that he did it. He’s the only one I’ve told about the flowers. Warmth spreads through me as I approach the vase and bend down to inhale its sweet fragrance.
I turn toward Lucas, his eyes almost black as he studies me with an intense expression. I can't quite read his thoughts, but there’s a slight flutter in my chest at the way he's looking at me. I straighten up and move my gaze to the walls. They’re the same beige as the rest of the office, however, one of the walls is adorned with three, blue picture frames.
Once again, Lucas is the only one here who knows my favorite color is blue.
He must have done this, but when? We’ve been together the whole weekend.
Except for yesterday, when he came home looking completely drained.
I walk toward the wall and study the pictures—two of the images are of Sophie, Adeline and I. One features us wearing our PowerPuff girl pajamas, each of us dressed in our respective characters. I smile; we're supposed to be grown-ups, but for some unknown reason, that show holds a special place in our hearts.
I move my gaze to the other picture of us three. My eyes narrow slightly as I tilt my head, how did he get this picture? It’s a picture we took at the club, right here in Nice.
The last picture is slightly bigger; it’s of Lucas and I.
It’s the picture I saw on the French gossip site, the one where we actually look like a happy couple.
"Sophie sent those to me. I felt your office needed some personalized touches," Lucas says, breaking me out of my thoughts.
I nod slowly, still trying to process everything.
"When did you do this?" I ask.
"They got it done yesterday."
Not they, you , I think to myself, but I say nothing. I allow him to deny credit for this wonderful gesture.
"Thank you,” I say, grateful for the effort he put into making my office feel more personal.
"You're welcome," he responds with a gentle smile.
My phone buzzes. I take it out of my bag to find a few messages from an unknown number.
Unknown number
Did you seriously get married?!!
Did you?
Please say it’s just gossip.
It was a mistake. I told you I was sorry.
I had a feeling about who it was, but the last text confirms it. It’s clearly John.
Me
Delete my number.
And yes, I’m married. Stop texting me before my husband gets upset.
I block his number again, praying to God that this time, he’ll leave me alone.