Chapter 22 #2
I’d willed the gods of self-control to help me before walking into the office the next day. But that self-control only lasted all of ten minutes before it wilted like a cheap flower.
“That’s my desk,” I said to the unfamiliar man sitting in the same spot I’d worked from yesterday.
He looked up, confused. But it was the woman beside him who answered.
She shook her head. “Not anymore. Mr. Vaughn assigned you a new one.”
My brow pulled tight. “A new desk where?”
“In his office.”
What?
I spun on my heel and marched straight to his door.
When I pulled it open, there it was—a desk already set up in the corner of his office, just a few feet from his.
On it sat a cup of coffee and a small takeaway bag I recognized to be the packaging from Elvis Cafe.
Croissants. I’d always yapped about loving them. Apparently, Luca remembered.
Luca leaned back in his chair, one leg casually crossed over the other as he took in my agitated sight. There goes my self-control.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked.
“Well, good morning to you, too, Leila.”
I folded my arms. “What do you think everyone’s going to say when they find out I’ve been moved to your office?”
“I thought you didn’t care what people think.”
“I don’t.”
“Then I don’t see the issue. We’re on a tight deadline, and I think it’s more efficient working from here.
Closely together,” he smirked, “that way we can cover more ground.” His eyes lowered, dragging slowly down my frame before flicking back up.
“Unless there’s another reason you wouldn’t want to be here. ”
“Yes, Luca. There is, in fact, another reason,” I said. “You’re getting married in two weeks. It’s not exactly going to send the right message if people see you giving me special treatment.”
The mischievous smirk slipped from his face, replaced by something darker.
Luca stood.
I tensed immediately. His gaze didn’t leave mine as he circled his desk and came to stand in front of me. I held my ground, forcing myself not to react to his presence because I wanted to puncture that damn ego of his.
“Stop doing that,” he said.
I could smell his breath—mint and the faint trace of coffee.
“Doing what?” I croaked, my voice giving me away.
“Stop reminding me of that fucking wedding,” he ground out.
“Then stop acting like you are forgetting it’s happening.”
His jaw clenched.
“Look, you have to stay away from me, Luca.” I put some space between us, and instantly missed the heat of his body.
My chest ached with each word, because deep down, I didn’t want any of this.
“You shouldn’t act all nice and sweet and charming.
Or even look at me like that. Or even bring me coffee and croissants like it means something. ”
Something flickered in his eyes. Hurt?
I pushed on. “That kiss…can’t happen again. Whatever we were—it’s done. You made sure of that.”
Before he could speak, the door swung open.
We both turned to see Charles standing in the doorway, his gaze flicking between us. The tension hung in the room like fog—thick, low, impossible to ignore.
“Bad time?” he asked.
Luca held my stare a second longer before clearing his throat and stepping back. “No. We’re done here.”
He turned away.
I stood frozen, guilt curling in my chest. Maybe I should’ve just said thank you for the coffee. And the croissant.
The next day, I came into the office a little after six p.m. as I had some things to take care of during the day regarding the wedding. I was grateful for the emptiness of the office when I arrived. There were only a couple of people around.
I half-expected that Luca would have gone home, but when I entered his office, I saw him standing by the floor-to-ceiling window.
He turned at the sound of the door and passed me a smile.
He looked tired, his features shadowed under the low light.
His tie was loose, sleeves rolled to his elbows, brows slightly furrowed like he hadn’t stopped thinking all day.
Stressed—but still breathtakingly handsome.
I glanced over at my desk. There was a Chinese takeout bag on it, along with an energy drink.
“I thought you wouldn’t have had anything to eat,” he said warmly.
Unlike his usual self, he wasn’t being mischievous today—wasn’t taunting me with his presence or his looks just to get a reaction out of me. I concluded he must have had a long day.
But it didn’t stop the funny flutters in my belly. Not remotely.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, going to settle into my seat.
Luca didn’t say or do anything as we worked in silence. Occasionally, I would catch him staring at me—he didn’t try to be subtle about it. I found myself yearning to be inches away from him, inhaling his scent, tasting his breath. My wolf stirred inside of me, urging me to go to him.
But I couldn’t.
I had to remind myself that it was dangerous to be that close to him again, that I wouldn’t be able to stop him if he kissed me right here, that I wouldn’t mind it if he took me right here, right now, on his desk.
I had to remind myself that that wasn’t a boundary I wanted to cross—because it wouldn’t bode well for me.
So, I sat in quiet yearning.
And unfortunately, Luca made it easy for me.
In the days that followed, Luca was…cold. He kept his distance from me. Only spoke when it was strictly necessary—an instruction about the design, or a dry offer for coffee. And God, it was infuriating.
I realize now that I didn’t mean the things I said the other day. Yes, he was getting married. But that didn’t change the fact that I wanted him. I liked the attention he gave me—craved it, even. I loved the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing in his world that mattered.
It was exciting. Thrilling. Addictive.
But in the last two days, I’d yearned for that thrill and gotten nothing but silence. Coldness.
It was his turn to shove a wall between us. Or maybe…maybe he was finally accepting the one I’d built, and stepping back.
And that thought stung in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
“So, I was going through the designs again, and I made a few additions to the layout. Nothing that alters the pitch we already agreed on, but I think it makes everything a lot more…interesting.” I looked up from my computer screen, and Luca looked up, too.
“Hmm.” Luca mulled over my words with a slow nod. “Let me see.”
“Sure, I’m sending it to your—”
He was already on his feet, walking toward me. “No need to send anything,” he said. “I’m right here.”
He stopped behind me and leaned in. His scent hit me first—fresh, like he’d just stepped out of the shower. Lavender and cedarwood. Just like the old shower gel he used five years ago. The fact that it hadn’t changed made something warm twist in my stomach.
I tried—desperately—to focus on the screen in front of me. But it was impossibly hard.
God, I missed this. The nearness of him, the feeling, the thrill it elicited in me. But Luca didn’t seem fazed. He didn’t even look at me. He just concentrated on the screen. I felt frustration curl up inside of me.
“So,” I began, my voice low, “I added a new mood board section at the end—right after the color palette. It gives the space more of a personal signature.”
“Hmm.” His voice rumbled right above me, and I clenched my thighs instinctively.
I continued, determined. “And I updated the photo arrangement on the second layout to follow a diagonal pattern. It draws the eye straight to the focal point.”
Another hum. “Hmm.”
I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to turn around and glare. “And the final addition was here, in the digital mock-up. I’ll make the changes to the PowerPoint if you approve.”
“Hmm.”
That was it.
“Okay, what is wrong with you? Why are you acting like…” I snapped my head toward him, already annoyed. But that was my mistake. I froze as my eyes locked on him.
We were close. Too close. Only a breath away. My face almost collided with his.
I held my breath, suddenly aware of everything—his heat, the curve of his mouth, the look in his eyes. Dangerous. Intent. If I moved wrong, I wouldn’t be able to walk away if he leaned in.
“Like what?” He hitched a brow.
“Like you’d rather be anywhere but here,” I said quietly.
Luca sucked in a rush of air. “Leila, trust me. There’s nowhere I’d rather be right now. But this is what you wanted—and I’m only respecting your wishes.”
“Since when has that ever stopped you?
“I have always cared about what you want. I just thought you were denying it, denying what you wanted. But now I see—maybe I was wrong.”
Wrong? How could he even think that? I’d never wanted anyone this badly, even with the hurtful history between us. There were just so many complications between us, and I was scared of getting hurt again, of letting myself be roped back in, knowing the consequences would be more dire this time.
I didn’t get to respond, even as Luca stared at me expectantly. Then my phone buzzed on the desk, and I broke the gaze between us to see the notification.
Victor Vaughn: Hope your day wasn’t too hectic. Still thinking about dinner Saturday.
After missing dinner the other day—when I went to the art gallery—I had called Victor and rescheduled for Saturday. It was my day off, and I didn’t want to give him another reason to feel stood up. It was starting to feel unfair.
Suddenly, the air shifted. Beside me, I felt the change in Luca. I heard his breathing become heavier, like he was trying to control himself. His anger didn’t show in words. It radiated from him like heat from a fire.
I turned slowly to look at him, and he straightened at once.
His face was like stone. Jaw locked. Eyes sharp and gleaming.
His nostrils flared once. His mouth was pressed into a flat, thin line.
But instead of saying anything, he walked back to his seat and sat down—his posture sharp, rigid.
His eyes, however, never left me. He just stared. Glaring.