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Theboss?
Darius ignores my squeak of protest, tugging me inside the penthouse. My heels clack against oak floorboards, and my dress swishes around my legs.
“We can’t—we shouldn’t—”
“Oh, calm down. It’s just some light breaking and entering. Leo would never press charges, so don’t worry. He’s the one who cut me the key.”
Gaping at the back of Darius’s broad shoulders, the door swinging shut behind me, I trail him into an open plan kitchen and living area. Whoisthis man? He’s close with the boss? Why didn’t I know that?
When I voice the question, Darius shoots me a bitter smile from the open refrigerator. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do, Luce.”
Huh.
Okay, need a minute to process. I peer around the apartment—Leo Corbin’sapartment. It’s less of a cold bachelor pad than I expected, with vibrant art on the walls and a comfy-looking teal sofa. There’s one of those fancy fireplaces too, the ones with a remote control.
Meanwhile, Darius is rummaging for something, lit by the refrigerator’s glow. Bottles clink together, and the composer moves like he’s been here a million times before. Like this is a second home to him.
Shoot. Maybe Idon’tknow him as well as I think.
Like—the flirting thing. I was so sure that when he winked at Hazel it was flirty, but… she didn’t blush. She didn’t seem to think so. So why leap to the worst conclusion?
And sure, there are countless rumors about Darius sleeping with women in the company, but have I ever actually heard of him going on a date? Have any of those rumors been confirmed? Not one. And I’d hate it if Darius believed a bunch of baseless rumors about me.
Chewing my bottom lip, I wander to a floor lamp and flick it on. No need to hash this out in half-darkness.
Over in the kitchen, Darius straightens with a bottle of white wine in his hand. It’s been opened and re-corked, and the label says it’s fancy stuff.
“We can’t drink the boss’s wine,” I hiss, already mortified but so, so tempted. The shame and heartbreak of earlier is receding, fading into the background, and now I’ve got that fizzy, excited feeling. The tingles that come with breaking the rules.
And Capable, Reliable Lucyneverbreaks the rules. She’s always punctual and hardworking, dressed in forgettable cardigans and glasses, blending in with the furniture. That’s how I’ve seen myself recently, anyway.
But when Darius strolls to meet me, two glasses of white wine in his hands, his heated gaze says he sees me very, very differently. His mouth crooks. “Go on. Live a little.”
Holding my breath, I take a glass.
It’s cool, the pale wine sparkling in the light when I swill it gently. My first sip is crisp and sweet. Darius switches thefireplace on with a beep, tossing the remote who knows where as flames leap to life in the grate.
And… is this a seduction? With the wine, the fire, and the glittering city-scape outside the window, it kinda feels like a seduction.
But that’s wishful thinking.Practice, he said.
And we’re here to finish our argument, not to extend our fake date. Still, the devil on my shoulder makes me blurt my next question.
“Is this the part where you whisper sweet nothings in my ear?” I’m aiming for jokey, but it’s coming out strained. “Where you kiss my neck and pull me down to the rug, and ravish me until I cry out your name?”
Darius frowns down at his own wine, refusing to meet my eye. “It depends. Would you let me?”
Yes.
Even if it meant nothing, yes. Even if it broke my heart, and ruined me for other men for the rest of my life, yes I would. What does that say about me? Does it make me passionate or stupid?
Capable, Reliable Lucy would never hook up in her boss’s penthouse. But then, that girl believed the rumors and thought the worst about her friend; she decided Darius Amin could never possibly want her without even asking him first.
Maybe I don’t want to be that girl anymore.
Maybe I want to be Brave Lucy. Reckless Lucy.
The Lucy who goes after what she wants. The Lucy who sips delicious stolen wine.
