“No,” I whisper, so softly it’s barely audible. “Sorry to disturb you.”
Without another word I dash into the apartment—my heart racing with an insatiable need for something beyond a good night’s sleep, and my head completely and utterly confused about how I feel about the Big Bad Wolf.
TWENTY
JP
“Pull yourself together,” I grind out, stalking the kitchen like a caged beast. I’m so wired I could put my fist through the five-million-dollar Pierre-Auguste Renoir hanging in my foyer.
It’s rare for me to get worked up like this. If my sister could see me now, she’d never let me live it down.
It’s Monday, hackathon day one. I’ve kept my distance from Lucy since our encounter last week, though keeping my distance hasn’t been easy. I was too forward the other night—I see that now. I shouldn’t have invited her into my apartment. The moment I saw the apprehension in her eyes, I regretted it. I used to have that effect on her, back when we first met.
But I couldn’t help myself. I had to be near her, it’s been ages since I had my hands on her, felt her against me.
All I’m left with now is watching her, like some perverted peeping Tom. Watching her with her crew, watching her work, watching her wrestle with her demons, and wondering if my intrusion is only adding to her suffering.
Then I go home, drink too much scotch, wrap my fist around my poor aching cock, and pretend it’s her.
But this is my chance to win Lucy over again. It’s just a shame I had to invite Quinn & Wolfe’s IT department along for the ride.
I’m hooked on my cell, eyes riveted on the tiny blip that’s crawling up Bear Mountain. It’s the transport vans, moments out now.
Lucy loved this place. The endless floor-to-ceiling windows offer stunning views of Bear Mountain State Park and the Hudson River below. She loved watching the sunrise over Dunderberg Mountain as the valley woke up, loved how the sunset lit up the room in a blaze of color.
Loved. Past-fucking-tense.
Everywhere I turn, I see reminders of us—mundane shit like cooking together, eating dinner in the lounge, watching TV on the sofa. I knew she had me by the balls when she made me don a superhero costume, chasing her giggling figure around the house.
And let’s not forget the holy christening of every flat surface in this mansion. Sofas. Beds. Kitchen table. Pool deck.
Makes me realize the shit I took for granted when it was stripped away.
The electronic gates to the mansion creak open and I grip the marble counter so hard I can feel every vein in my arms popping out. I take a steadying breath, a silent mantra to keep my shit together.
The prattling voices and giddy laughter get louder as the IT army piles out of the vans.
I swing open the grand oak doors to the mansion, and the chattering ceases, everyone sending me shy, hesitant glances. I catch Lucy’s “hello” mingling with the rest.
I beckon them in. “Make yourselves comfortable,” I say, directing them into the kitchen. “Our private chef will have dinner out soon.”
Their jaws practically hit the floor as they take in the grandeur of the living space with the glass walls showcasing an unobstructed panoramic view of the tranquil mountains.
“Mr. Wolfe,” Taylor coos, “this place is phenomenal! This is a brilliant plan! I’m sure the team will accomplish great things here.”
I see Lucy scanning the room, a blank look in her eyes. Even weeks after the accident, it’s unnerving to see her not remember.
Come on, look at me. Make a connection. And there it is—our eyes lock, if only for a heartbeat, and it’s like a shot of adrenaline right to the chest.
But then she quickly looks away, a blush creeping up her neck, hands fumbling with her collar.
“Same drill as Vegas,” I announce, grabbing some bottles of beer and wine from the drinks cabinet. “Eat or drink anything in the fridge but all your meals will be prepared for you.”
The room fills with cheers as they scatter around the lounge.
Matty, her blond wingman, makes a beeline for the drinks. “Don’t mind if I do, boss.”
Lucy trails with the geeky data guy on her heels.
