by C. Morgan
It was all becoming a little infuriating.
Lisa tilted her head back and took a sip of her drink. “Some days, he’s happier than I’ve ever seen him, and others, he’s spiraling down the drainpipe, you know? He’s so lost and I want to help him but he won’t let anyone in. He’s so…”
“Stubborn?”
“Yes.” Lisa nodded. “Stubborn. Like a mule. Sometimes I wonder if it’s all because of his mother’s condition. She’s been getting worse, I think. Not that he talks to me about any of it, of course.”
I chewed at the inside of my cheek. “How is Ally doing these days?”
Lisa eyed me over the rim of her glass. “Not good. Not good at all, I don’t think. Ever since the accident, Lukas has been pulling away. He keeps things between him and his mother pretty much to himself. I know it hurts him to talk about it but I wish he’d just open up to me a little bit. It’s like he thinks he has to go through this alone. I don’t know how many times I’ve told him he doesn’t. How many times I’ve told him that I’m here.”
“You’re a good sister.”
Lisa shook her head. “I don’t know about that. He specifically asked me not to talk to people about his mother, and here I am, gushing everything I know to you. Not that I know much.”
“Let’s agree that this conversation never happened then.”
Lisa nodded absently and ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “He needs to let people in, Kayla. He can’t keep doing this by himself. It scares me sometimes.”
“What does?
“Thinking about how he’ll handle it when Ally is gone,” Lisa said simply. There was a heavy note of sadness in her voice. “It’s going to break him, and if he refuses to let anyone help him through it? Well, I don’t know if he’ll come out of that grief in one piece.”
My throat ached. I willed the emotions down. “Lisa?”
She glanced up at me with glassy eyes.
“Lukas has always been full of surprises,” I told her.
She smiled softly. “You’re not wrong.”
I got to my feet. “I have to go track him down. I need to talk to him sooner rather than later. Do you know where he might be?”
“If he’s not at work, he’s either drinking alone in a bar or he’s at home.”
“Home, it is,” I said. “Do you have his address?”
“I’ll text it to you.”
“Thank you,” I said before opening her office door. I turned back and paused. “Hey, Lisa? Lukas is lucky to have a sister like you. Even if he doesn’t act like it, he knows that’s the truth.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to say that just to make me feel better. Go on, go. We’ll catch up later.”
I left my friend in her office with her woes and made for the elevator once more. It spat me out in the lobby, which was busier than it had been when I arrived. The workday was over and people were socializing in the lobby. Nobody paid me any mind as I crossed the polished floors and descended the stone steps outside to the sidewalk, where I waited at the curb for the next passing bus and hopped on.
As I rode, it started to rain.
I hated riding the bus when it rained. The humidity was insufferable. And the smell?
Not pleasant.
I had to transfer two times and ended up on a smaller shuttle that circled around the Puget Sound and eventually made it closer to Lukas’ address. I had entered the address Lisa texted me into the maps program on my phone and discovered that the closest bus stop to his house was still a ten-minute walk away.
So I got off the shuttle and started walking.
My clothes were soaked through by the time I arrived at the edge of his property. It was gated, but the gate was open, so I strode through and made my way down the winding driveway up to the mansion at the end.
The house was incredible. It was a sprawling single-story estate of contemporary Spanish design. The house itself was white with black trim around all the windows. His car, the Lykan, sat parked in the pull-through driveway under cover of a built-in carport. The structure was being overtaken by ivy plants that gave the place a whimsical feel.
I stepped up to the black front door and lifted my hand. Suddenly, I was afraid to knock.
There was no telling which version of Lukas I was going to get when he opened this door. I suspected he was upset about Rodney but I couldn’t be sure. That seemed to be what set him off back at the soup kitchen. But it was impossible to tell with Lukas sometimes.
I’d just have to knock and find out.
I rapped my knuckles six times on the door, and I waited.
Chapter 19
Lukas
“Hold on!” I bellowed down the hall toward my front door.
Now was not the time for visitors. I wondered who was knocking on my door at this time as I tore my towel off the rack and peeled my sweaty back off the workout bench. I’d been lifting weights and pumping iron and broken quite the sweat. Exercise seemed to be the only thing that helped me keep my head on straight when my anger was getting the best of me.
And lately, my anger felt like it had become part of my personality.
I wiped the sweat from my brow as I got to my feet and padded down the hall to my door in nothing but track pants and sneakers. It was raining outside. I could hear it pinging off the copper roof overhead. The sound was almost soothing.
I jerked the door open and draped my towel over my shoulder.
There, on my doorstep, was Kayla.
At first, she stared into my eyes and I stared back at her. Then her lips parted ever so slightly and a tight sound escaped her. Her eyes broke away from mine and did a slow up and down of my entire body, starting at my feet and working their way up only to fall back down one more time for good measure.
I crossed my arms and braced my shoulder on the doorframe. “What are you doing here?”
“I—I—” She closed her eyes and gave her head a shake. I tried not to smirk. I liked watching her squirm. Perhaps the key to getting what I wanted with her was to start wearing fewer clothes. She opened her eyes again and fixed them on me, this time refraining from checking me out. If it took effort, it didn’t show. She’d collected her composure. “I was hoping we could talk about what happened at the soup kitchen.”
“And what exactly did happen at the soup kitchen?” I asked.
“That’s what I wanted to find out.”
Of course, she was oblivious. Of course, she was going to make me feel like this was all in my head.
Damn her for screwing with me.
I arched an eyebrow. “I don’t have anything to say about it.”
“Well, I do,” she said sharply. “So are you going to invite me in or are you going to leave me standing out here soaking wet in the cold?”
I sighed and stepped back. “Come in then.”
Kayla squeezed past me like she was afraid to touch me. Chuckling, I closed the door behind her. She took off her soaking-wet sneakers, peeled off her jacket, and walked on the balls of her feet down my hallway to the back of the house where everything gave way to an open concept flow.
She didn’t say a word.
People were usually rendered speechless when they entered my not-so-humble abode. The house was a showpiece and a daily reminder to myself that I was no longer the poor boy who grew up with nothing. Every collected piece of art from around the globe was a promise kept to myself that I would not settle and that I would see every corner of the world I’d always believed I’d never have a chance to visit.
Kayla wrapped her arms around herself when she reached the living room. “Your home is stunning, Lukas. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Thank you.”
Her compliment left me feeling out of sorts. Normally, I was proud to show this place off. I wanted the compliments. I wanted the recognition. I wanted the verbal reminder that I was enough.
But I didn’t feel that way tonight.
I felt guilty.
Kayla
let her purse fall from her shoulder. I moved to take it from her, but she shot me a look, and I stopped with one arm half outstretched.
“What?” I asked.
“I don’t like what happened at the soup kitchen.”
“Neither did I.”
She put a hand on her hip and blew out an exasperated sigh. If her hair hadn’t been matted to her forehead from the rain, I was sure she’d have blown it out of her face. “If I’ve done something to offend you, please tell me. Don’t just storm out expecting me to figure it out on my own. My head is too full of things I need to remember, Lukas. Things I need to do. I can’t anticipate your emotions when you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”
I arched an eyebrow. “You sound like my sister.”
“Good.”
I rolled my eyes.
Kayla took a step forward. Rain dripped from the tip of her nose and landed between our feet. “I value your partnership and our friendship.” Kayla’s voice dropped a little lower when she said the word friendship, and my body responded with a feeling of tight anticipation. Lust.
I pulled my towel from my shoulder and held it in front of my crotch to hide the pitching tent happening inside my track pants. “What about you and Rodney then?”
“What about it?”
“How close of friends are the two of you exactly?”
Kayla laughed nervously. “We’re colleagues, nothing more.”
“Nothing?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. We’ve just known each other a long time. It’s comfortable. Maybe at times a little too comfortable on his part but—”
I grabbed her arm and pulled her close. Kayla gasped and tried to back away, but I held fast, one of her wrists gripped in one hand while I put the other on her waist. “Being your friend has its perks if I’m allowed to touch you like Rodney does then.”
Kayla’s eyes narrowed. “You have the wrong idea, Lukas.”
“Do I?” I growled. “Because from where I was standing today, it looks like I have a pretty clear idea.” I moved my hand from her hip and trailed it up her side and across her chest. Her skin was still glistening with raindrops and I broke their perfect round dots upon her flesh with the tips of my fingers as I worked my way up the side of her neck. I pushed the wet hair from her forehead and she tilted her head back to gaze up at me. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips full and begging to be kissed. “What do you want from me, Kayla?”
“I don’t want anything,” she whispered.
“Lies.”
“Let me go.”
“Do you want me to let you go?”
Her eyes darted back and forth between mine. Her chest fluttered with quick, desperate breaths. Her mouth was saying one thing, but her eyes and her body were saying something else entirely.
“I want,” she whispered. “I want…”
There was no more time for talking.
I yanked her up against my bare chest. The air rushed out of her lungs and I kissed her deeply. This time, there was no working our way up to the passionate, desperate kissing. This time, we started at full force. She ran her hands up my bare stomach. She clung to the waistband of my pants. I cupped the back of her neck and practically bent her backward as she suckled at my bottom lip and dared me to lose control.
I wrapped my arms around her waist when her knees went weak. I held her up and she whimpered against my lips as the kiss deepened. A soft moan escaped me, and she froze.
Suddenly, she gasped sharply and pulled herself away. This time, I let her go.
Kayla pressed her hands to her head and ran her palms over her already slicked-back wet hair. She shook her head and refused to meet my eye. “I think you have the wrong idea about our friendship,” she said breathlessly.
I gritted my teeth.
This push and pull with Kayla was driving me mad. I couldn’t stand it. I wanted her, but I knew she’d never let me have her.
It was exhausting.
“Fine,” I grated. “You wanted to talk? Let’s talk. I’m not interested in doing any more of your hands-on activities.”
“But at the farm, you said—”
“I want to keep it simple. I don’t have the luxury of time to dive into every little project with you. Farms and soup kitchens. Who do you think I am, Kayla? Let’s just get this thing done and wrap it up with a pretty bow, and then you don’t have to spend any more time with me than absolutely necessary. Sound fair?”
Kayla wrung her hands. “Lukas, that’s not what I wanted. I’m just trying to understand—”
“I want a fundraising gala. Quick, effective, and done in one night. The press can be there if they want. I really don’t give a damn. We’ll have a traditional dinner and charge five thousand a plate.”
Kayla’s eyes widened. “Five thousand dollars a plate?”
“Wealthy people won’t bat an eye at that. Aim high, Kayla. Don’t assume to know the budget of a stranger. Besides, people will throw money at something if it makes them look good and gives them an excuse to show up in their best dresses and suits to rub elbows and gossip with other socialites. It’s not that complicated.”
Kayla pulled her purse strap up onto her shoulder. “A gala is possible but I tend not to throw them because they cost so much to host.”
“I’ll pay for it. All the tickets and donations will go straight to Good Fellow’s. Deal?”
Kayla looked down and nodded weakly. “If that’s what you want to do, we can make it happen. I’ll start working on it right away.”
She didn’t look up at me when she brushed past and made her way back down the hall to the front door. I considered following, but the hint of sadness in her voice and her eyes made me feel like the ass I’d been, and I doubted there was anything I could say to take the sadness away.
So I let her leave, heard her close the door behind her, and resented the taste of regret that sat at the back of my tongue.
Chapter 20
Kayla
“Are you sure there’s no chance of rescheduling?” I asked desperately. I’d been on the phone for over twenty minutes with the event coordinator at the Ritz Carlton, who was steadfastly sticking to her guns and had told me nearly a dozen times over that no, there was nothing they could do to open up a ballroom for me to host my fundraiser.
“It’s being hosted by Lukas Holt,” I said, name dropping him for the tenth time that day.
“So you’ve said,” the woman on the other end said. “Look, I know you’re in a tight spot, but I can’t call up the bride and groom who are using the ballroom that day and ask them to reschedule their wedding because Lukas Holt wants it for a fundraiser. I don’t care who he is. I’m not doing it. My commitment is to my clients. We can fit you in at the end of January.”
“That’s too far away.” I sighed. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for your time and your help.”
“Good luck.”
I hung up the phone, slumped forward on my desk, and groaned.
I’d been working around the clock for the last few days trying my hardest to get my foot in the door with a venue for the fundraiser. A fundraiser that I wasn’t even all that interested in hosting.
I hated fundraisers.
I hated the flashy decor and the centerpieces nobody could see over. I hated the gaudy jewelry and the tacky clutches decorated in rhinestones or, in the case of the guests coming to this particular event, diamonds.
The guests who came to these kinds of things never much cared for the cause their money was actually going to. All they cared about was a chance to be seen. They’d buy their way into the event so they could show off their glamorous dresses and designer suits. They’d pull up in their fancy cars and flash smiles at people they hated, who they would promptly talk about behind their back as soon as the chance permitted.
The young ones would end up in coat check to make out with people their parents forbade them to speak to. Others would take it up to a suite they’d booked for the night because they had better
sense than to rely on a coat-packed storage room. Others would leave early, pile in the backs of luxury SUVs, and head home to indulge in each other.
And me?
Well, I’d be running around like a chicken with my head cut off, praying like hell nobody wanted or needed anything from me. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to these rich, egotistical, manic, selfish, overindulgent, trust-fund dicks.
My office door swung open. I peeled my cheek off the back of my hands and lifted my head to see Lisa removing her sunglasses and tucking them in a small pocket in the lining of her designer purse.
She smiled at me and cocked her head to the side. “Looks like someone is having a long day.”
“You have no idea.”
“What’s up, babe? Talk to me.” Lisa pulled out the chair across from me and sat down. She set her purse on the floor and crossed one leg over the other.
She looked nice today. Her blonde hair was slicked back, a couple of strands hanging loose to frame her face, and she wore clean makeup with a bold burgundy lip.
Sometimes, I wished I had a reason to get a little dressed up for work. I couldn’t help but feel a little insecure in my blue men’s shirt that said “Good Fellow’s” on the front and my faded jeans.
“Lukas switched gears on me the other day,” I admitted.
“Oh?” Lisa cocked her head to the side.
I sighed heavily and nodded. “He doesn’t want to do any more hands-on activities apparently. And here I was thinking the farm had gone so well.”
“What does he want to do then?”
“Guess?”
Lisa stared blankly at me. “I don’t know.”
“Galas.”
Lisa scoffed. “Of course, he does. Talk about taking the easy way out. Is that what you’re stuck doing then? You’re trying to plan a gala?”
“Yep. He said he’d host and pay for everything. I’ve thrown these kinds of things together before but not to this extent. He wants to charge five thousand dollars a head, Lisa. Five thousand dollars. Obviously, I can’t just call the Comfort Inn and ask if they have one of their conference rooms available. I need a glamorous venue. Something chic and popular that people will actually want to come to.”