“I was trying to figure out how this happened,” he says, words slightly slurred. Shit. Maybe he’s drunker than I thought. “How and why would my dad hire you? Is Granata’s reputation really so awful they can’t find qualified candidates for their open positions? Or were you just that desperate to be part of the paddock?”
Ouch. His words hit a little harder this time, because they’re laced with truth. At least that last part. Granata had a hard time hiring for my position because it’s not the most glamorous job. But I was sort of desperate for a place to live and a way to make extra money after he jarringly blew up my life plans by cheating on me.
Still… his assumptions are shallow, and he’s a jerk for droning on like this.
He’s surveying me again, this time his gaze fixating too long on my cleavage.
I cross my arms over my chest, mirroring Mia’s stance. I’ve got great tits on a normal today. Tonight, in this dress? They look fantastic. But Luca Steele has lost the privilege of looking. Just like he’s lost the privilege of wasting my time.
“Get lost, Luca. We’re done here.”
He knits his brows, anger flashing across his face as he locks eyes with me. “We’re not done. I haven’t even told you about my epiphany yet.”
Confusion rolls through me, though he gets to the point quickly.
“Once I talked to my dad, it finally clicked.”
My heart plummets into my stomach. “What do you mean you talked to him? Did you talk about me?”
Alaric didn’t mention that he’d talked to Luca. Not that he has to tell me anything.
The asshole answers with a scoff, a nasty smile taking over his expression.
“You should have seen the old man, so quick to come to your defense. It was embarrassing the way he was digging for any details I’d give him. He has it bad. Then you show up here, wearing his beloved Granata red, strutting around this ballroom looking likethat? It all makes perfect fucking sense.”
A flush crawls up my chest and neck, understanding tapping at my consciousness. I’m shaking my head and holding back tears before the words even come out of Luca’s mouth.
“I know you’re flighty and will do anything for money. But fucking my dad? That’s low, Queenie, even for you.”
CHAPTER 24
EVANGELINE
I’m frozen. Locked up, physically unable to move and mentally unable to formulate a response. Later, when I replay this encounter in my head, I’ll regret not slapping him.
Close to a minute has passed. I think. Maybe. All the while, I’ve been standing here, fighting back tears. Luca, on the other hand, orders another drink and examines me, supremely smug at my lack of denial.
This is an issue for me. My brain sort of glitches when I’m struggling to process my emotions.
I don’t even know where to begin unpacking his absurd, inappropriate, potentially damaging claim.
Yet just like before, there’s an edge of truth to his accusation. There’s undeniable attraction between Alaric and me. Though we’ve both worked hard to ignore and resist it.
Well, maybe notthathard.
I slept in the man’s arms two weeks ago, for crying out loud.
We had a moment that next morning, I’m sure of it. When we were lying together in bed and he let me take his hand, I was sure he would pull me into his arms and kiss me. His interest was clear. I don’t always pick up on subtle hints or pretenses. There was absolutely nothing understated about the way he leaned in and focused on my lips like they held all the secrets of the universe.
Except he didn’t pull me in, and he didn’t kiss me.
He pulled back.
We resisted.
Yet here stands fucking Luca, spewing damning lies in a room full of colleagues, adversaries, and press.
Ironically, while standing here, still struggling to process the accusation and come up with a reply, I spot Alaric across the room.
