Page 40 of If He Hadn't Cheated
I let out a quiet laugh that doesn’t sound like one. “You think I don’t know that?”
He walks closer, stopping a few feet away. “You work for me now. There are rules. People talk. And I can’t let that affect you or this company.”
“So that’s it?” My voice trembles. “We just forget it?”
His hand flexes at his side. “I didn’t say that.”
“Then say something else.”
He sighs and sits on the edge of the bed, his voice low. “I meant what I said last night. You deserve more than being someone’s mistake. I won’t let you be mine.”
The ache in my chest sharpens. “You didn’t make me feel like a mistake.”
His eyes close for a moment, as if that hurts more than he wants to admit. “That’s the problem.”
Neither of us speaks for a long time. The rain outside has stopped completely now, leaving only the sound of waves hitting the cliffs below.
He stands, adjusting his cuffs, the mask slipping back into place. “I’ll drive you back.”
“I can call an Uber.”
“Lana,” he says quietly. “Please.”
I nod, too tired to fight.
The drive back is silent. The tension fills every corner of the car. I keep my eyes on the road, but I can feel him watching me. Not like before, not with hunger, but with something closer to pain.
When we stop in front of my apartment, I unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
He grips the steering wheel. “Get some rest. Take tomorrow off.”
“I’ll be at work.”
He looks at me, his voice quiet. “You don’t have to prove anything.”
“Neither do you.”
For a moment, our eyes hold. Then I step out into the daylight and close the door. The sound of the engine fades as he drives away. I stand there, barefoot on the wet pavement, the morning air cold against my skin. My reflection stares back from a puddle at my feet. My hair is a mess, my eyes red, but there’s something else there too. Something that looks a lot like longing. Something that refuses to fade.
18
The week after the storm feels unreal. I go to work, I follow orders, I breathe. That’s it. Knox and I don’t talk about what happened. We don’t have to. It sits between us like a shadow, quiet and heavy, waiting for either of us to make the wrong move.
He’s distant again, all business and precision, but every time our eyes meet, something flickers behind his calm. It’s not gone. It’s just buried. I tell myself I can handle it. That I can pretend too. It was just sex but I thought it was more. Or maybe he’s scared.
By Friday, I almost believe it.
The lobby is packed when I step out of the elevator. Clients, assistants, suits everywhere. The air hums with noise and movement. I clutch my tablet and focus on the numbers on the screen, trying not to think about the fact that I can still feel Knox’s touch when I close my eyes.
“Lana,” a voice says behind me.
I freeze.
That voice. Smooth, familiar, laced with the same arrogance that used to make my heart race.
I turn slowly. Sebastian stands there, every part of him polished to perfection. Navy suit, expensive watch, the same smirk he used to wear when he thought I’d never walk away.
