CHAPTER 30
NOW
DAPHNE
I arrive at Luc’s office building just before nine, the late hour allowing me to easily secure a parking spot right in front. Quickly exiting the car, I retrieve the two containers of Chinese food from the back seat and make my way toward the entrance. The elderly guard on duty meets me at the door, pushing it open to allow me inside.
“Ms. Burke,” Walter greets me, shutting the door behind me as I pass.
“Walter.” I give him my best stern-looking stare. “We’ve talked about this.”
His wrinkled expression slightly softens, giving way to a small smile. “Good evening, Daph.”
“There ya go, big guy.” I pat his shoulder. “How’s Carolann?”
“Hip’s been giving her a bit of trouble, but she’s got an appointment next week to have it looked at.”
“I’m gonna be out and about tomorrow. I’ll swing through here at some point and drop off a box of that chocolate she loves so much. But this—” I hand over one of the containers of food. “—is all yours.”
Walter glances down at the small black container, his mouth drawing into a tight thin line. For a moment I worry he doesn’t like what I’ve brought him, until he says, “The world needs more people like you, Daphne.”
I chuckle, shaking my head at his assessment. “I can provide you with the names of more than a few people who’d disagree with you.”
“They’re rotten to the core.” His fingers tighten around the container, the plastic crackling within the pressure of his grip. “The whole lot of them.”
“Eh, everyone’s entitled to their opinion. He still up there?”
Walter lifts his gaze, eyes shifting from his hands to my face. There it is again, that twinge of sadness. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, let me go feed him. Goodnight, Walter.”
“Goodnight, Miss Daphne. Thank you for the food.”
“Anytime, big guy.”
I step into the elevator, riding it up to the top floor where it opens to a deserted reception area. The lights are off, save for the expected glow emitted from the far corner office.
I’m quiet in my approach, taking a moment when I reach him to stare through the half-open door. He’s leaning on his desk, hair mussed, a small glass of whiskey beside him as his tired eyes stare at the screen of his computer. The sight hits me with a pang of guilt. I was always so focused on the “late nights” he was using as an excuse to fuck around, I never stopped to consider the times he actually was working late. These days he tends to leave work on time so we can have evenings together. It would appear that’s catching up with him.
“Knock. Knock.” I call out, rapping my knuckles against the door frame.
Luc startles, briefly glancing up at me in surprise before returning his focus to his screen. “What are you doing here?”
Well, damn. That wasn’t the greeting I was anticipating.
“I brought you food.” I step forward, placing the take-out container onto his desk before settling into one the upholstered chairs opposite him.
“Leftovers from Nicky C.” He tsks, his fingers clicking the keys a bit harder than necessary. “Seems to be the story of my life.”
Wow, he’s coming out swinging. Guess that answers my question of whether Caleb called him on the way home. I’m not mad. I’m the one who told him Lucian was working late and wasn’t able to make it. He probably called to check on him.
Regardless, I better strap in because I’m in it now.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you, but nothing happened, Lucian. It was Jonsie’s welcome-home dinner. Your best friend was there. He can attest to everything I’m saying.”
Lucian abandons his work, swiveling toward me while leaning back in his chair. I sit forward, elbows braced on my thighs as I prepare to answer any questions he may have.
“Who got there first?”
“I did.”
“And how long before Caleb and Joanna showed up?”
“About an hour.”
Lucian stares at the surface of his desk, his head slowly shifting side to side as he reaches for his glass, tossing back the remainder of scotch.
“Okay, yes,” I rush to explain, suddenly regretting my decision to seek forgiveness over permission, “I know that seems sketch, but it was a simple mix up of times. I swear to you, he didn’t try anything.”
“Doesn’t really matter if he did, does it?” He lifts his shoulder in a defeated shrug whilst staring into his now-empty glass. “Not like I can risk calling him out on anything without taking a bat to the face. What Nicky C. says, goes.”
“Luc.” My voice is saddened with a mixture of sympathy and regret as I stand, motioning around his desk. “I’m telling you, I’m not—” My sentence cuts out when my gaze is drawn down to a thin peach-colored scrap of fabric discarded on the floor. It’s twisted, the distorted shape offering the possibility it may not be what I think. However, any doubts are laid to rest when my foot juts forward, the toe of my shoe dragging it out from beneath his chair.
Underwear.
Women’s lace underwear.
I blink several times, mouth falling open as I struggle to form a response.
“Are you kidding me?” I ask incredulously. “You’re sitting here giving me shit about having dinner at Nicky’s house with our best friends while you’ve been here fucking some skank?!” I shove at him, his chair jerking backward when my hands make contact with his chest.
He shoots up, stepping into me to bump his chest with mine. “Stop acting like you give a shit where I stick my dick.”
“You stick it everywhere!” The scream tears from my throat, culminating in a frustrated cry as I swipe up the glass from his desk and hurl it toward the wall, watching it shatter upon impact. “You promised me. You promised me you were gonna try!”
“Like you have?!” he roars in my face. Lucian reaches for me, the action causing me to involuntarily flinch away. My response throws him, the unexpected evasion tempering the threat of his impending wrath. The anger fades from his face, his brows pulling down as he’s overcome with remorse.
“I may have stepped out on this relationship, Daphne, but the truth is you never even hopped in.” Reaching out, he drags his brown leather chair back toward him before dropping down with a defeated sigh. “Two years. I have spent two years living in that man’s shadow. You’ve never once looked at me the way you look at him.” He falls forward, his head hanging low in his hands. “You think I don’t know you, but I do. There was a time we used to talk to each other—actually talk. And you would tell me about the things you wanted in life. I know you want to be independent and stand on your own two feet. But I also know you want marriage and babies. I want those things, too. I want them with you.” Luc glances up at me, all pretenses suddenly wiped clear. “Just because I don’t show my love the way you want me to, doesn’t make what I feel any less real.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be loved the way you love me.”
He winces slightly at my words, standing to retrieve his suit jacket from the corner coat rack before slipping it on and making his way toward the door. He pauses at the threshold, his gaze peering out into the darkness. “I’m not perfect, Daphne. I won’t pretend to be, but the love I’m offering is real, and that’s a hell of a lot more than anything Nicky C.’s ever offered you.”
Lucian exits the office, leaving me to unravel as my body slowly sinks to the floor in defeat. Sniffling back any tears, I slip my hand into the back pocket of my jeans to withdraw my cell.
When I hit Call, I lie and tell myself it’s for closure—that I need to feel the sting of rejection one final time so I can move on.
I ignore the whispers of the hopeless romantic that I’ve long since buried deep. The one who clings to the dreams of a life where I’m worthy of his love. I shush the hope that blooms in my heart as the line begins to ring. The kind that makes me believe some part of him wants this too… wants me.
“Hello?” a feminine voice slurs, prompting me to glance down at the screen.
His name stares back at me, confirming I’ve called the right number. With trembling fingers, I hesitantly place the phone back to my ear.
“Hell—oh shit.” The mystery woman giggles. “This isn’t my phone. Is this yours?” She asks, addressing someone on her end.
“If it ain’t yours, then hang it up.” A deep voice sounds somewhere in the distance, pulling a strangled sob from my throat. “Come put your mouth back where it belongs.”
“Oh my God!” Her laughter rings out. “You’re such a—”
My thumb connects with the red circle, my eyes affixed to the wall as I effectively cut the call. An hour. I haven’t even been gone an hour, and he’s already got some girl on her knees for him.
Don’t cry. Don’t you dare fucking cry.
The tremors grow more persistent, coiling in my stomach before clawing their way up my throat. My grasp tightens around the phone, struggling to find purchase as the room tilts around me.
Fuck him.
Fuck him, fuck her, but most of all… fuck me. Because I’m the biggest joke of all.
I’m not sure what comes first—my screams or the repetitive slams of my phone against the hardwood floors. I don’t know how long I carry on for before Walter finds me, pulling me into his panicked embrace.
I’m not sure how long he holds me before he manages to get me to settle.
What I do know is at no point do I shed a single fucking tear.