“No, you don’t get it,” he snaps. “I don’t make offers twice. I told you to trust me and quit because I don’t want you exhausting yourself at some shitty job before coming here.”
“That’s not your decision to make!” The words come out louder than I intended, and suddenly, we’re standing too close.
I can feel my pulse hammering in my throat. My hands are shaking slightly, so I clench them at my sides.
And then, before I can stop myself, I blurt out—
“How can I trust you when…when just days after kissing me senseless, I see a woman coming down from your bedroom?”
The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them.
The silence that follows is suffocating.
Alex stares at me, stunned, his lips parting slightly like he wasn’t expecting me to say that either.
And I?
I feel exposed and Raw, the heat in my chest spreads to my throat, my ears burning.
Fuck.
I want to take it back. I want to act like I didn’t just say that out loud. But it’s too late, his unreadable gaze stays locked onto mine, and I hate that I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I hate that my heart is racing, and I hate that it hurts.
Because why does it hurt?
It’s not like I—
No, I don’t finish that thought.
I can’t.
I look away, jaw clenching so tightly it aches.
EIGHTEEN
ALEXANDER
I watch Lucas turn a deep shade of red after his statement. I’m also a little stunned because I did not expect that from him.
Hell, I don’t even think he expected it. His eyes widen slightly, like he wants to take it back. But it’s out now, filling the space between us, thick with something fragile and unfamiliar. Even though he looks like he regrets the words, he holds my gaze.
For a moment, I don’t know what to say because this reaction, this flicker of vulnerability and hurt in his expression, is new. I’ve seen Lucas guarded and nervous and bite back with quiet defiance, but I’ve never seen him like this, never with his walls lowered just enough to let the uncertainty slip through.
I inhale deeply, steadying myself. I can’t fuck this up.
“Lucas,” I say, my voice calmer than I feel.
His gaze flickers, but he doesn’t look away. He’s stiff, shoulders tense, his jaw clenched like he’s bracing for something. I take a step closer, slow and deliberate.
“She wasn’t in my bedroom.”
He blinks, brows drawn together, trying to process my words
“She was in the den upstairs. That’s where she left her passport and some important documents last time she was here.” I continue watching him. “I didn’t even know she was coming today. She showed up unannounced to get them.”
He doesn’t respond, but I see the way his lips press together, the way his fingers twitch slightly at his sides, the wheels turning in his head. I don’t like that he’s even questioning this, I don’t like that there’s doubt in his eyes, and that he’s expecting me to hurt him, so I make the next words very clear.
“The last time she came here was three months ago.” I hold his gaze. “It was mutual flings. Nothing serious, and it ended.”
