Page 59 of Things We Left Behind
“Why?” It was apparently my turn to play parrot. “You know why.”
“Elaborate,” he insisted.
“No.”
He fixed me with a glare, then turned on the heels of his very expensive loafers and marched down the hall with my bag.
“Hey!” I had to jog to keep up with his long, well-dressed legs. That bag didn’t just have files. It had all my essentials like car keys, lipstick, tablet, pepper spray, and snacks.
He stepped through a doorway, and I followed him inside, not realizing until he was closing the glass door behind me that I’d just voluntarily entered the devil’s den.
Lucian’s office.
Ofcourseit was in a corner. And of course it was huge with breathtaking views. It was cold, formal, impressive. I thought of my own cozy, chaotic office.
“Weird. I expected it to smell like brimstone, but I’m catching whiffs of…fish,” I said, sniffing the air.
Lucian swore under his breath.
“Okay.Whatis your problem, Lucifer?” I demanded.
“You. Once again, it’s you.”
“Give me my bag back.”
Instead of handing it to me like an adult, he set it on the very expensive-looking coffee table in front of a pricy-looking white sofa. Had the guy never heard of IKEA? He pointed toward my tote bag. “Give me the files.”
I sat with a huff on the silk upholstery and pulled the tote across the coffee table’s marble surface.
“I don’t know why you’re getting so pissed off when you’re proving my point. This is exactly the reason I was going to give the files to Lina in the first place,” I grumbled.
“Do you think I want to dislike you?”
I looked up, startled by the sharpness of his tone. He was dragging one hand through those dark polished waves of hair while patting his pockets with the other.
“If you eventhinkabout lighting up a cigarette in here—”
“Don’t even pretend you didn’t help yourself to a drag of the last one I had in your presence,” he said.
I felt color flood my cheeks. “Oh, shut up.” I yanked the files free, and out came two library books, my cosmetics bag, and half of my snack stash. “And yes. I do think you want to dislike me. I think you love to hate me.”
He stood, legs braced, hands on hips like he was preparing for battle. I pretended not to notice the clench of his already well-defined jaw under the perfection of his beard.
The guy had been a gorgeous teenager, and Lina was right. He’d grown up to be a damn god. Sometimes life just wasn’t fair.
“Here are the damn files that you can give to the damn attorney so you can keep looking like a damn hero to my mother.”
I shoved the stack toward him, then spied the Mary Louise Upshaw news clippings in the pile and snatched them back.
Quickly, I returned the clippings and the rest of the spillage to the bag and stood. Slinging the straps over my shoulder, I made a move for the door.
“I don’t love to hate you.”
The words, spoken softly, brought me to a halt.
I turned to face him, and then because I was feeling temperamental, I closed the distance between us. “Whatdoyou want, Lucian?” I demanded, looking up at him.
He said nothing. I knew there were feelings and ideas and a freaking personality beneath that beautiful surface, but he’d cut me off from it all.
