Page 45 of Prettiest Little Thief
My stomach dropped, and I stood abruptly, my chair flying back and hitting the window behind me. “No. She stole it?”
Fox chuckled. “Yeah, bro, she took it. But I get the feeling she’ll bring it back.”
“Fuck!” I picked up my phone and checked her location, expecting her to be far away by now. My heart settled when thescreen showed she was only a few miles away. At an… ice skating rink?
“She isn’t far?” Fox asked, seeming to notice the ease that smoothed out my expression.
“No. She’s not far at all.” I grabbed my keys and sprinted toward the door.
“Roe’s got you so fucked up, dude.” Fox was having a great fucking time giving me shit about how my feelings had changed for Monroe.
He was right. The little thief—my little thief—had softened my stone of a heart.
***
Monroe
My skates glided smoothly across the ice as I lazily moved my body. No rush or urgency. Calm. That’s what I needed. Just the sound of my skates scraping across the frozen surface.
The constant static in my head was muted as I inhaled the frigid air. My usual spot to practice was a little bit of a drive, so I opted for a nearby indoor rink to blow off some steam. Emotions rolled off of me and dropped away, skittering across the chilled rink the moment I stepped foot onto the glassy ice. Music started to play from the speakers, and l became lost in the song. I spun, jumped, and dipped, the motion of my body operating by muscle memory. Hardly a thought to propel myself along the glacial surface as my breaths panted out of me. Each maneuver melted into the next just like it had when I was in competitions.
My thoughts went to the dramatic leotards and sparkling makeup. The vision of my mom on one of the bleachers, beaming at me from afar.
As the song ended, I stopped. My breaths heavy as my eyes landed on Lucas’s tall figure standing on the other side of the short wall, watching me. That didn’t take long.
I propelled myself across the rink to where he stood, the distance between us closing. His hands were tucked into his black leather jacket, blue eyes alight. I thought he would be pissed off about his Corvette, but he didn’t seem the slightest bit peeved.
Huh.
As my gaze washed over him, my stomach dipped as if I was dropping from the highest point of a rollercoaster. Even from the short distance between us, I could feel the intensity of his stare burrowing into my soul. Pinpricks of awareness covered my skin, and my breath condensed in a cloud before me.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just stood there and watched me.
This was likely his way of checking in on me but still allowing me to have some sort of space between us. Not that it was much. And that pull, the one I got every time he was near, tugged at my chest, begging me to go to him.
God, I was pathetic.
I had been alone for so long, and Lucas Knight turned me into a big mushy mess of need after two weeks of constant companionship. Who was I? Surely not the Monroe Whitlock my mother had raised. Because she had taught me to be self-sufficient and never to depend on a man. Financially or emotionally. And here I was, breaking both of those rules she had built into me so firmly.
Inhaling deeply, I skated, moved closer, and stopped, just at the edge.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Lucas’s expression gave nothing away. “Being that my car and my soon-to-be wife were missing this morning, I wanted to make sure you hadn’t left me already.”
I shook my head and bit my bottom lip. “I wouldn’t back out of our deal. If there was an actual deal, since I haven’t decided whether to take your offer or not.”
“Deal or not, I wanted to make sure you were all right.” My heart fluttered, and I tried my hardest to push down the lump in my throat.
“You don’t have to pretend. This is all a fake. I overheard you and that pretty woman in your office.” I sniffed as I pushed down the jealousy that reared its head inside me.
I was just about to push off and do another lap around the rink but was stopped by Lucas’s deep timber. “Gianna is my cousin.”
“What?” The green-eyed monster within me started to dissipate.
“Gianna can be a crazy bitch.” His full lips tugged up at the corners.
“You couldn’t even give her a response to what you know about me. Then it hit me that if you are going to marry someone—share a life with someone—you should at least know the basics about them. Their favorite color, birthday, favorite dessert.”
