“Cancel it,” I order, not taking my eyes off Lucy. Right now, I need to focus on the woman in front of me.
“Of course, sir,” Amanda responds before quietly slipping away.
Lucy’s rooted to the spot, cautiously eyeing me.
I slide my hands into my pockets to keep from pulling her into my personal space. “Now, what was that all about? Why’d you get so upset?”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze flicking to the team that’s ogling us through the window. “He caught me at a bad moment. I just got off a call that left me… rattled.”
“What was the call about?”
“Personal stuff. Not work related. I shouldn’t have let it affect me here.”
“I can help you.”
Her eyes snap back to mine, wide with alarm. “No… sir. JP. It’s fine. It’s my issue, and I shouldn’t have let it spill into work.”
I rake a hand through my hair, fighting to keep my composure. This is torture, not being able to comfort her. “I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”
Not that she’s exactly jumping at my offer.
“It’s just a real estate headache,” she spills out quickly. “My apartment’s difficult to sell. I shouldn’t have made the call at work.”
I heave a deep sigh. Ah, the apartment. Perhaps now I can step in, like I wanted to before her memory loss. Now I can fix this mess without her knowing I’m pulling the strings.
“Don’t stress, we’ll get it sorted. We’ll arrange a financial plan for you.”
“What? Oh God, I couldn’t ask…” She trails off, gnawing on her lip. “Well, actually… I guess talking to financial services couldn’t hurt. Thank you.” Her head hangs in shame and I hate it.
“Good. Now, I’m taking you home.”
Her eyes widen like I just suggested we skydive off the Empire State Building. Naked. “Huh?”
“I’m taking you home,” I repeat. “Amanda will get your stuff.”
Flabbergasted, she anxiously massages her neck and edges toward the door. “Sorry for the drama, but there’s no need to send me packing.”
“I’m not sending you anywhere. I’m taking you home. And it’s not open for discussion.” Ideally to my place, but she’s not ready for that yet. “You’ve had enough for today, Lucy. I’m not going to watch you cry at work.” I grab my wallet and keys.
She stares at me, completely blindsided. She opens her mouth to object, but quickly reconsiders when she catches my no-nonsense look.
I flash her a grin, hoping to quell her nerves. “Look, I can’t have an employee threatening to kill another in the office.”
“Bad for PR?”
“Just a touch. Let’s go,” I say gently, motioning to the door, hoping for more enthusiasm.
“I live in Washington Heights. It’s a bit out of the way.”
“It’s fine. I need to check on one of our hotels up north.” Lies.
She silently follows me to the elevator.
I tell Amanda to grab Lucy’s stuff from her desk.
We enter the empty elevator and I hit the button to descend.
Slowly, I swivel to face her, locking my gaze with her anxious, searching eyes.
“Is this your way of personally handing me my pink slip? You think I’m so messed up I can’t handle my responsibilities?”
The words catch me off guard. I retaliate, my voice rougher than I would have liked, the words resonating in the small, enclosed space. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I growl out. “Lucy, for God’s sake, what kind of man do you think I am? That’s not what this is about. Not at all.”
She eyes me warily. “I saw you axe five guys in sales. They didn’t see it coming either.”
I tug a hand through my hair, exasperated. “That’s not what this is. You’re clearly stressed, and I just want to make sure you’re in a place where you can relax.”
“But why the personal chauffeur service?” she fires back, her voice catching slightly.
“Because I want to.”
Her chin lifts in that defiant way I know so well. “You always get your way, don’t you?”
A wry smile tugs at my mouth. “99 percent of the time.”
“And the 1 percent you don’t?”
“Accepting defeat doesn’t sit well with me.”
I take a step forward, closing the gap between us. For a moment we just stare at each other.
Her eyes widen, lips parting. And right now, I want nothing more than to feel those lips crush beneath my own.
I’m close enough to touch her now. Another step, and I’ll be close enough to hoist her up in the air and wrap her legs around me. My cock strains in my trousers. Damn, this is too hard for me to control.
The doors slide open and with great effort, I restrain the urge. I clear my throat gruffly. “This way.”
I guide her to my Aston Martin, opening the passenger door for her. There’s a moment when she hesitates, like she suspects I’m setting a trap.
Finally, she slides into the leather seat, eyes roving over the luxurious interior like she’s never been in here before.
I casually loosen my tie and chuck it in the glove box. Judging by her wide-eyed stare, you’d think I just put on a strip show rather than discarding a simple strip of fabric.
Suppressing a grin, I watch as she wrestles with the seat belt, scowling when the buckle refuses to cooperate.
Leaning in, my hand finds hers on the buckle, gently pushing it aside. Her breath catches in her throat as she turns toward me, our proximity suddenly making the car feel much smaller.
Our eyes lock, dangerously close now. I can see all the sweet little details that make up Lucy-the flutter of her eyelashes, the light freckles dusting her cheeks, and that small scar on her nose from her fall at my villa. I bandaged her up, kissing the cut to “make it better.” Now it’s just another mark she sees but no longer feels the history of.
Instead, there’s a new scar, a constant reminder of our forgotten life together.
She’s stopped blinking. Breathing too, it seems.
“Relax,” I murmur, my voice low and intimate. I trace the belt down to where it disappears beneath her. My breath ghosts over her cheek, eliciting a visible shiver. “I promise I don’t bite.”
At least, not unless provoked.
Being this close without touching her tests every ounce of my restraint. Although every part of me longs to pull her close, I resist the temptation. Instead, in a rough voice, I ask, “You good?”
“Mm-hmm,” she breathes.