The sound escapes before I can stop it.
Not from cruelty— But from how absurd it is that she still believes it’s just about sex.
“You think this is about sex?” I ask, voice low “You think Lucas is just a good fuck?”
Something flickers in her eyes. She wasn’t expecting that reaction.
“He’s mine, Vera,” I say it plainly, so there’s no room for doubt. “And I’m so fucking serious about him. I won’t let you or anyone talk down on him or act like he’s just another body in my bed. I’m not letting him go. Not now. Not ever.”
I can see her battling with herself, trying to hold onto whatever edge she walked in here with.
“And what if he’s with you because of your money?” she sneers. “Maybe he’s sticking around for the extravagant spending.”
I shrug lazily. “I couldn’t care less about that,” I say with a tired sigh.
I had actually made him an authorized user on my account. The card was given to him yesterday, and he can spend and do whatever the fuck he wants. Not that he even likes spending, or shopping, or buying extravagant things.
Even though I always tell him I don’t mind.
Because I don’t.
I bought him a Cartier Love necklace and bracelet two days ago and he almost chewed my ear off about how expensive they were.
But I saw it—
The happiness in his eyes.
Even if he tried to hide it behind that shy, annoyed little scowl of his.
“You’re ridiculous, Alex,” she scoffs, clearly frustrated, leaning back in her chair. Then her gaze soften as she studies me, tone turning more serious.
“So you’re a hundred percent serious about him? Like… relationship serious?”
I give her a small nod and one of those rare smiles of mine that actually means something. I want to tell her it’s not just ‘relationship serious’, It’s I want to give him my last name ‘serious’.
But I don’t say that out loud.
Because frankly, I’m already tired of this conversation.
“Yes,” I say simply, my tone final. “I’m serious about him, Vera.”
She studies me for a long moment. Reading. Searching.
Then she sighs.
“Well,” she says, voice a little too dry, “I suppose I’ll need to be compensated for this heartbreak.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“I mean,” she gestures dramatically, “you’ve shattered my cold little heart, Sasha. You’ve moved on with some innocentlittle freckled thing, and now I’m left all alone in this city. The least you can do is fund my recovery. I need to cry on something. To ease this emotional trauma, you have caused”
I stare at her, deadpan. She tilts her head in return, that deviant smirk pulling at her mouth. Then I let out a tired sigh because I already know she’s not backing down.
“God, you’re exhausting,” I mutter.
Still, I pick up my phone, tap into one of my offshore accounts, and send the transfer.
A few seconds later, her phone buzzes from the table. She snatches it up, reads the message, and that smug, victorious smile curves instantly across her lips.
