Page 23 of Lucas

“Would you have preferred we take the chopper?”

My throat tightens. “As in a helicopter?”

His lips twitch with amusement. “Afraid of heights, too?”

“Deathly.”

“We’ll have to work on that,” he says.

“Sure thing, but first we need to survive this trip to Boston.”

“Nothing to worry about,” he says, executing a perfect lane change. “You just have to go with the flow.”

Sounds simple, but when a Jeep rips by and cuts him off, Lucas lays on the horn. A string of curses erupt from his mouth, followed by hand gestures that make me want to shrink under the seat with embarrassment. His face is flush, and the vein at his temple throbs with visible anger.

The first pin pricks of unease tap on my shoulder, reminding me that despite his sometimes-boyish antics, Lucas has a temper. I’ve seen that rage uncoil with alarming speed once before, and I was scared. Terrified, actually. Some of that fear lingers now, especially as he guns the gas and shoots by the offending vehicle, flipping the driver off as we pass.

My chest tightens. “You probably came up so fast behind him and he didn’t have time to get away.”

Lucas remains tense. “Guys like that need to learn how to drive it or lose it. He could have put you in danger.”

“Not everyone has a couple hundred grand to toss at a new car.”

“A couple?” Lucas chuckles. “I paid almost five hundred thousand for this baby.”

Clearly he’s missed my point, but it doesn’t feel right to keep hammering at him. I’m grateful when we merge off the overpass and onto the I-95, heading out of the cramped city on route to TD Gardens. Lucas cranks up the stereo, thrumming his thumbs on the steering wheel to the obnoxious beat.

“Metallica?”

He grins. “Thought you’d like a refresher on some of the songs before they hit the stage.”

I don’t have the heart to tell him I’m a heavy metal virgin, not when he’s obviously geeking out over attending this concert. And if I’m being honest, I’m kind of excited too. I’ve only ever seen Britney Spears, and that was before my parents died. Even though it seems like a lifetime ago, the memories of them prior to the accident are still clouded with grief.

It’s more than the thought of seeing such a big arena that excites me tonight—it’s that Lucas invited me to something so clearly important to him. I get to experience his excitement first hand, and for some reason, that feels special.

I focus in on the lyrics, but I can’t make out much more than the throaty growl of the lead singer’s voice competing with heavy drums, an angry guitar, and the roar of the Porsche’s engine as the wind whips through my hair.

I run my hand through it, trying to tame the curls that are now a matted mess.

“You’re perfect,” Lucas says, as though reading my mind. “It’s a metal concert, not the symphony.”

I lick my lips. “Do you ever go to the symphony?”

He lifts an eyebrow. “It’s not really my thing, but sometimes, I have to for work.”

I’m beginning to sense that Lucas’s personal interests don’t quite align with those expected of him when it comes to his business. And I can’t help but wonder how his partners feel about being linked to a billionaire hedge fund executive who prefers dive bars and grunge-style entertainment instead of the sophisticated luxuries a man of his wealth and stature can certainly afford. Perhaps it’s this paradox that attracts me to him, a man, who by his very definition is the exact opposite of “my type.”

It’s not just his unorthodox hobbies and tattoos that make him stand out to me. He behaves nothing like I expect a man of his business acumen should. And when I think I’ve figured him out, he shifts gears, surprising me with an indecent proposal, concert tickets, perfectly-fitted clothes, or a heart-stopping smile that forgets he isn’t supposed to be someone I would like.

Logic tells me I ought to run, get out while I still can.

And then my heart reminds me that it’s already too late.

I study Lucas’s side profile. Strong jaw, prominent Adam’s apple that bobs when he swallows. And oh yes, that scorpion tattoo glowing under the setting sun. Sexy as fuck.

My stomach summersaults. He turns, catches me staring, and winks. My heartbeat stutters and I suck in a sharp gasp as the realization becomes clear: No doubt about it, I’m already in too deep.

Chapter 12