It looks like there’s well over six feet of pure rock-hard muscle stuffed into that suit. And is that reinforced padding in his leather crotch or is he just thrilled to see me? Hopefully, I got to find out. Did I show him my sexy Miss Nova outfit? I hope he liked it.
Maybe it’s just someone who works there…
No, it’s him—my mystery man. My vagina’s spidey senses are tingling.
I felt something for this man.
Remember, Lucy, you have to remember.
What did we share, whoever you are behind that mask? Will I ever know your true identity?
The background looks like that comic convention in Manhattan I usually attend. The one happening again this weekend. My pulse quickens at the realization.
I must’ve liked him if I put a reminder on my desk. I’m losing my goddamn mind.
“Matty.” I pull my chair over to him, interrupting whatever he’s doing, which is easy to do. “Hey, I gotta ask you something and I need you to not mess with me.”
He grins. “I can’t guarantee that.”
“Seriously.” I scoot my chair closer. “Did I or do I have a boyfriend?”
“A guy? Nah. You would’ve told me.”
I show him the photo, but he shrugs.
“Could be anyone, Luce. You always have those guys posing with you. It’s like your nerdy version of Chippendales.”
“No,” I insist, glaring at the photo. “Mom, Priya, and Libby said I was seeing someone for a few months. So I didn’t tell you anything at all?”
He shrugs again. “Not a thing.”
Weird. Why wouldn’t I tell Matty if I was seeing someone?
Then again, women are wired differently to men. I think we talk more about dates than men do. I can barely keep up with Matty’s rotation of casual dates. And I doubt he can either.
“But if I’m seeing someone, why haven’t they come forward yet?”
He pauses to think for a second. “Maybe he’s out of town for work and has no clue. Or I guess it’s possible he was gonna end things with you anyway, and this just makes that easier for him.”
“Matty.”
“I dunno, Luce. Who the hell knows? I’m a simple guy. I’d come forward.”
Maybe Matty’s right. Is this what my brain’s blocking out? Did I get dumped or ghosted by Daredevil?
“Matty,” Brody murmurs from the adjacent desk. “Check out boss man’s office.”
We follow his line of sight.
JP is in his office talking to Helen from HR. With her long, flowing hair and a figure and face to die for, she looks like she belongs in the dictionary beside the word “stunning.”
Something weird twists in my stomach as Wolfe leans across the desk, closing the gap between them.
I glance around the office. The guys have stopped typing, too busy trying to put their tongues back in their mouths from leering at Helen.
Watching them through the glass, it’s easy to see why women fantasize about him. Who wouldn’t fantasize about being the one special woman to accomplish the impossible—to break through that tough exterior, get him to relax that chiseled jawline, or even have him get down on one knee?
Heck, even to make the man crack asmile.
