Propping my elbows on my thighs, I run my fingers through my hair before bringing them to hold my face. “No, there’s not a girl.”
“Oh, my bad. A man, then?”
“No!”
“Don’t lie to me, Sasha.”
I sigh. “Yes, there’s a girl, but she doesn’t mean anything to me. She’s justthere.All the fucking time.”
Ledger smiles softly before getting up and walking around his desk to sit in the chair next to me. “Look, brother,” he says as he places his hand on my back. “I’ve been where you are. From the moment I saw Sloane, I couldn’t think about touching another woman. And I didn’t even know her yet. From the moment she looked at me, I didn’t stand a chance. She waltzed into my life and changed everything I thought I knew about myself. My life before her feels like a void of darkness. That’s why I’m always on your ass about watching yourself. One day, there’s only going to be one person who matters, and you may or may not regret some things. That being said, I dare say Sloane enjoys the skills I picked up.”
Ledger pauses as we both chuckle. “Listen, I’m just trying to say that if you’ve found someone you can’t stop thinking about, don’t try to fight it, man.”
Yeah, right. Even if I thought there could be something between Lucy and me, so what? Sure, now that my dad is the head of the family, I’m sure I have autonomy over who I choose to marry. But the position as the Taranov heir would automatically put my bride in danger. Why would I do that to someone I cared about? And just because I won’t beforcedto marry someone handpicked doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be advantageous for business to choose strategically. Sighing, I realize he won’t ever understand my reasons for avoiding attachment.
“Thanks, brother,” I say, standing from my seat.
Ledger follows suit and wraps me in a hug. “Anytime, Sasha.” A glance at his watch has him almost running out of the office. “Fuck, gotta go. Text me!”
If anything, this little heart-to-heart has only made me feel worse. Because what if Idolike her? Then what? I can’t do anything to put Lucy in danger. Having feelings for her would only make this worse. As Ledger leaves to undoubtedly find his wife, I make my way back to my bike and prepare to head home. Home to the one-bedroom cottage I share with the woman causing all my problems.
Chapter eight
I zombie walk into the living room and freeze when I see Sasha sleeping on the couch. I’m dressed in my oldest tattered pajamas, my hair’s a bird's nest on top of my head, and star-shaped pimple patches are scattered across my face. He wasn’t home when I fell asleep last night, so I just assumed he wouldn’t be here this morning.
Every other morning, I’ve made myself at least halfway presentable before coming into the common area. For what, I’m not sure. In hopes of seducing the extremely sexy, extremely uninterested guy sleeping on my couch?Sure.
For the first morning since I’ve moved in here, I try to be as quiet as possible. He really would sleep right through our filming if I didn’t wake him up, though. I’ll just make myself some matcha, sneak back into the bathroom, freshen up,thenwake him up.
My plan to be quiet couldn’t be going any worse. I don’t think I’ve been this loud in my life. So far, I’ve tripped over something on the floor, dropped my cup, and accidentally slammed therefrigerator door. Every time I wince, thinking that he’ll wake up, but so far, he’s been dead to the world.
I’m starting to believe I’ll make it out of here with success when the microwave beeping finally does the trick.
“What thefuckis that?” he groans.
I’m frozen in place with a grimace still on my face when he comes marching into the kitchen wearing nothing but his boxers. “Lucy. What thehellare you doing in here? Are you trying to wake up the whole city? Jesus Christ!"
“Sorry,” I squeak out, forcing myself to smile. “I was trying to be quiet…I just wanted to make my morning matcha before I got ready for the day.” Oh yes. I forgot about my current state. And now he’s less than ten feet away.Great.“Do you want some?” I ask, trying to deflect his attention to the cup I’m holding up.
He walks toward me, and I can feel my heart beating in my chest the closer he gets. When he’s an arm’s length away, he reaches for my cup. I hand it over and watch as he stares at the foamy green liquid inside.
“What the fuck is this?” he asks, swirling the matcha around.
“It’s matcha…”
“It’s fucking green.”
I walk over to the fridge and pull out a glass of store-bought kombucha. “You can try this if you don’t wantgreen. I’m making my own, but it won’t be ready for a week or two.”
He swaps beverages with me and takes a sip of the fermented tea before immediately spitting it out. “Jesusfucking Christ,Lucy, what the fuck is this?”
“It’s kombucha! I’m making…”
“Your own. I know. I heard,” he says, wiping his mouth. “Is that the shit on the window?”
Before I can answer, he’s crossed the kitchen, grabbed the jars, and thrown them in the trash. I’m too stunned to open mymouth until he reaches for my sourdough starter. “No!”I yell. “That’s my sourdough! Please don’t throw that away.”
“Fine,” he says, setting the jar back down. “I actually like sourdough. You can keep that one.”
