Page 119 of Boss of the Year
She was right about one thing: I needed to be clearer about the thingsIwanted, both with myself and anyone else.
I didn’t know yet what to say about Lucas or Daniel, but I knew one thing for sure: I needed to keep reconnecting with my family and keep those roots with them solid, if on my own terms. There was wisdom here, if I were willing to learn from it.
“You know, you could just stay here,” Frankie said as we turned onto her street, past boutiques with single items displayed in their windows like art pieces. “Instead of going back to that hotel or wherever else they find for you. You don’t have to stay with him to do your job.”
“Funny. Last night, I was going to ask if we could both stay here and let his team go to Parker House.”
Frankie snorted. “You know, if you hadn’t shown up at my doorstep crying, I would have said yes. But now, I think Xavi and I both would just say ‘fuck that guy.’”
I had to chuckle. You could take the duchess out of the Bronx, but you couldn’t take the Bronx out of the duchess.
The suggestion to stay was tempting. The thought of facing Lucas made my stomach churn. Even more when a glance at my phone revealed several missed calls—two from Robbie, the rest from Lucas himself.
“I should probably get back. I have the evening off, but Lucas is probably wondering where I went.”
“So call him. Tell him you’re staying with family tonight and you’ll meet him wherever he ends up in the morning.”
I was already typing out a message. “Yeah, I could use a little more space.”
But as we approached Frankie’s building, and I saw the familiar looming figure, my newfound peace evaporated.
Lucas stood outside the entrance, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his expression unreadable as he watched us approach. He had changed from his more casual travel wear into one of his impeccably fitted black suits with a crooked open collar, like the tie had been yanked off in haste on his way here.
Even in this neighborhood of wealth and privilege, he stood out.
La crème de la crème, as we would call it among chefs.
“Or,” Frankie said, following my gaze. “You can just tell him yourself.”
24
NONNA’S BOLOGNESE
*Bacon is not the same thing as pancetta.
“Well.” Frankie’s voice remained carefully neutral as she observed the tension between Lucas and me. “This is cozy.” With a sharp glance that had always marked her as the most observant Zola sibling, she pulled out her keys, unlocked the front door, and handed them back to me. “Come up when you’re ready. Lucas, you are welcome to stay for dinner. That is, if my sister invites you.”
Ever polite, Lucas nodded in her direction, though he didn’t take his stormy gaze off me. “I appreciate that, thank you.”
“Marie.”
I glanced at my sister.
She didn’t say a word, but her thoughts were clear.Be careful.
Then she left.
Strain had brought out a few more of the lines around Lucas’s tornado-colored eyes, and his jaw was set like he was preparing for a fight. He looked good, if a bit tired.
But Lucasalwayslooked good—better, somehow, every day I spent with him. He’d always been a handsome man, though a distant one. But now that I knew exactly what those broad hands felt like, both when caressing softly between my legs or carving handfuls of my thigh with abject need…Yeah, it was hard to see how I’d ever missed the animal magnetism that poured off him like steam.
I was mad about this morning, yes. But I was also more attracted to him than ever.
It was baffling.
I waited for him to say something, but his patience outlasted mine.
“You’re here,” I observed inanely, if only to disrupt the awkwardness.
