Chapter Six #2
Luke rests a hand in the middle of my back. “Come on, ma’am.”
I let him guide me out of the restaurant.
My heart is racing, and my mouth has gone dry.
He takes me across the street to the car park, his hand gently steering me past the cars, opens the passenger door of the Range Rover, and gestures for me to get in.
Then he closes the door and walks around to the driver’s side.
I buckle myself in, which isn’t easy because my hand is shaking so much. I sit there, trembling, as Luke gets in and closes the door.
He turns in his seat and looks at me. “Are you okay?”
I press my fingers to my mouth, then burst into tears.
“Hey…” He sighs, fishes the square of material out of his pocket, and passes it to me. “Come on, don’t cry over that arsehole.”
“I’m sorry.” My voice is a squeak.
“And don’t apologize.”
“I’m not really upset, I’m angry.”
“I know.”
I try to mop my tears without smudging my makeup. “I shouldn’t have gone.”
He doesn’t say anything. I know he didn’t want me to go.
“I feel like such a fool,” I whisper.
“You’re not a fool. You’re just a woman in love.” His lips twist.
“No, I’m not. Not anymore, anyway.” I wipe my cheeks. “He didn’t send the flowers.”
“Really?”
“I guess I have a secret admirer,” I try to joke. Then I sigh. “I can’t believe I thought it was him. I should have double-checked before I organized a lunch date. What an idiot.”
“Don’t say that.” He speaks firmly. “You’re not an idiot. You’re right—you needed closure, that’s all. You still had feelings for him, and you were finding it difficult to let him go. What happened is a good thing, because now you can move on.”
I blow out a breath and nod. “You’re right.”
“I’m always right.” He smiles.
Dom is well-groomed, sleek and suave. His grandfather’s Italian, and it shows in his thick, dark hair and his charismatic manner, as well as his Italian suits.
Luke’s handsome too, but in a different way.
He’s big and rugged; I can imagine he’d look as much at home in jeans and boots in the country as he does in a suit.
He doesn’t have Dom’s charming smile and easy patter, but I discover that I prefer his grumpy manner.
I like the way he teases me. I don’t want to be charmed anymore.
He clears his throat and starts the engine. “Let’s get you back to the office,” he says, and then he turns and rests an arm along the back of my seat as he reverses out.
I can’t help but stare at the way his impressive biceps stretch the sleeve of his jacket. Or the curve of his Adam’s apple above the knot of his tie. And I can’t help but smell his cologne… something clean and sporty that reminds me of a sea breeze, much nicer than Dom’s characteristic spicy scent.
He finishes reversing and glances at me before turning to the front. “Stop it,” he scolds.
“I’m just looking. You have a nice neck.”
“And you’re on the rebound. Face the front.”
“Your cologne is nice.”
“Jesus, don’t sniff me. I need to concentrate on the road.”
I give a short laugh and turn to the front. I know he likes me, but he’d never give in to his feelings. I admire him for that, even though it’s a tad frustrating.
I think about the roses, and frown as I look out of the window, watching the shops flash by. “I wonder who sent the flowers? I wish we hadn’t lost the card.”
“Yeah, that was frustrating.”
“I can’t think who would’ve sent them.”
“I’m sure you have any number of secret admirers, ma’am.”
“I really don’t,” I scoff.
“You might be surprised.”
“I honestly don’t think I invoke adoration in men. And I’m not saying that to push for compliments. I think I intimidate a lot of guys.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I glance at him. “I don’t intimidate you?”
He laughs. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re five-foot-two.”
“Height has nothing to do with it. It’s all about personality. I’ve been told my stare is like Medusa’s.”
“I’m sure you’ve turned many men to rock, ma’am.” He’s quiet for a moment. Then he adds, “That came out wrong.”
We exchange a glance and both burst out laughing.
“Well, you’ve cheered me up, anyway,” I admit.
“I’m glad to hear it.” He smiles and opens his mouth to add something, then stops and presses the button he’s clipped to his seatbelt. “Go ahead.”
I’m getting used to this, so I just wait, watching, as he listens to someone talking into his earpiece.
Immediately, though, I know it’s not good news, whatever it is. His smile rapidly vanishes, and his expression briefly turns furious before he remembers I’m watching him and quickly smoothes it away.
“Copy that,” he snaps. “I’ll be back in five.” He releases the button and returns both hands to the wheel.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing.” He indicates at a junction and turns onto Shortland Street.
“Luke—”
“It’s just something work-related. Nothing to do with you.”
“Are you also someone else’s CPO, then?”
“No… but I work with a whole security team, and I have other tasks during the day.”
“Well, I think I should have a hundred percent of your attention, so…”
He doesn’t smile; I’m not sure he was even listening.
“Luke,” I say softly as he turns into the car park, “what’s going on?”
He huffs a sigh as he drives into my parking space. “It’s nothing for you to worry about,” he states, turning off the engine.
“I’m not a child.”
He meets my eyes then. “You do not have to tell me that.”
“Are you referring to my boobs again?”
That makes him give a wry smile, but he doesn’t answer.
“You would tell me, though,” I add, “if it was anything important. Anything that involved me?”
He hesitates. Then he says, “Yes, ma’am.”
“If I find out you’ve been lying to me, I’m going to be really upset.”
He scratches at a mark on the steering wheel. “I understand.”
“Everyone thinks they can control me. Dom, my parents, Marcus and Caesar… Don’t be the same, Luke. I’m not an idiot. I like you, and I feel safe with you. But I deserve to know if anything’s going on that affects me directly. I don’t need to be sheltered, or protected, not in that way.”
He looks down at the keys in his hand for a moment. Then, eventually, he meets my eyes. “I understand,” he says again.
Clearly, he’s not going to tell me anything more.
Disappointed, I get out of the car and slam the door, then walk toward the elevator.
I feel tired; I shouldn’t have drunk the wine at lunch.
I’m going to get myself a coffee and a muffin, and throw myself into work for the rest of the afternoon.
Maybe then I can put everything else out of my mind.