~ 6 ~

LUCAS'S POV: KAI Headquarters.

I barely register the numbers on the screen in front of me. The quarterly reports, projections, inventory assessments—everything blurs together, one monotonous spreadsheet after another. I should be focusing. This is my domain, where logic and control dictate every move.

Yet, my mind keeps straying.

Back to that store.

Back to her.

I exhale sharply, dragging a hand down my face before leaning back in my chair. Damn it.

"You know," Theo’s voice cuts through my thoughts, smug as ever, "it’s totally unlike you to do something like that."

I don’t bother looking up. "Do what?"

He scoffs, stepping into my office like he owns the place. Typical. "Come on, man. You insisted on delivering that award yourself."

I finally glance at him, giving nothing away. "It was a personality check. I wanted to see if she’d break under my stance."

Theo crosses his arms, the amusement in his expression growing. "That’s why you were cold to her?"

I keep my face impassive. "I treat all my employees the same way."

"Right." He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "And I’m the goddamn Pope."

I roll my eyes. "Are you seriously that unoccupied that you’re following me around instead of handling your own work?"

"Actually," he says, dropping a thick folder onto my desk, "I was here to submit this report." He leans forward, grinning. "But then I saw you, brooding at your desk, and I figured you could use some company. Maybe even a little therapy session."

I ignore him, flipping through the documents. "Did you review the projections for the next quarter?"

Theo sighs dramatically but takes the seat across from me. "Yeah, yeah. You’re impossible. But fine, let’s talk business."

And just like that, we shift gears.

For the next couple of hours, we go through numbers, analyze market trends, discuss expansion plans. This is my comfort zone. Business doesn’t require emotion. Just facts, numbers, and control.

But no matter how deep I bury myself in work, a different kind of analysis runs in the back of my mind.

Lila.

She stood there yesterday, poised and professional, acting as though my presence didn’t faze her. As if I was just another executive passing through.

It was almost convincing.

Almost.

But I saw the way her fingers curled ever so slightly at her sides, like she was grounding herself. I caught the flicker of something in her eyes before she masked it with that polite, practiced smile.

And when our hands brushed?

I clench my jaw, flexing my fingers as if I can still feel the phantom spark that passed between us.

It was brief, a fraction of a second.

But it was real.

She felt it, too.

By the time the workday ends, I’m no closer to shaking her from my thoughts.

I should have let Theo handle the award. Should have kept my distance.

Instead, I had needed to see her again.

After the routine check the other day, she hadn’t left my mind for a single damn second.

So when Theo brought it up again that evening, I took the opportunity. Told myself it was to prove I wasn’t as cold as people assumed.

But the truth?

I just wanted to look at her.

Really look at her.

This time, without an audience.

This time, close enough to see every detail.

I lean back in my chair, rubbing a hand over my jaw as frustration coils tight in my chest.

This is going to be a problem.

And I have a feeling it’s only just beginning.

----

Theo had insisted I have dinner with him.

That man—sometimes I forget he’s twenty-seven. He acts like he’s seventeen. But it was worth it. A distraction I desperately needed, and truly, it had served its purpose.

We had dinner, a mix of business calculations, project evaluations, and preparations for the next board meeting. It was supposed to be a simple meal, yet somehow, Theo managed to turn it into a spectacle—complete with exaggerated rants about investors, dramatic retellings of his latest conquests, and an unsolicited lecture about why I needed to “loosen the hell up.”

He wasn’t just my Executive Director at KAI Group.

He was my best friend. Has been since college.

Which was why I tolerated him, even as he got drunk—on a work night, no less.

And, of course, it had to be me driving him home.

He slumped in the passenger seat, humming along to whatever song played softly in the background, his head tilted back against the seat.

"You're too uptight, you know," he slurred lazily, eyes half-lidded.

"You're too reckless," I countered dryly, pulling up in front of his apartment complex.

He chuckled. "One of us has to be."

I sighed, shaking my head as I stepped out of the car and walked around to help him out.

Once he was inside—door locked, lights off—I headed back out, slipping into the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

I needed to get home.

The city was alive, even at this hour.

Towering high-rises stretched into the night sky, their windows illuminated like scattered stars against the darkness. The streets pulsed with energy—cars speeding down broad avenues, neon signs flashing in vibrant colors, pedestrians moving in rhythmic waves. Street vendors lined the sidewalks, the aroma of grilled skewers and roasted chestnuts filling the air.

The hum of life was everywhere—honking horns, distant music from a rooftop bar, the low murmur of conversation as people drifted between restaurants, clubs, and lounges.

It was Las Vegas, after all.

No place knew how to never sleep better than this one.

I turned on the stereo, letting the low bass of some indie rock song drown out the noise.

At the next turn, I approached Central Intersection—the busiest one in the city.

Four wide lanes stretched across, forming a massive crossroads where foot traffic and vehicles converged in a chaotic but practiced dance. Massive LED billboards cast colorful glows onto the pavement below, their moving ads illuminating the sea of people waiting at the crosswalk. Some were tourists, snapping photos of the cityscape, others were locals, weaving through the crowd with expert precision.

I slowed as the traffic light flashed red, bringing my car to a stop.

People crossed in different directions—some rushing, others leisurely strolling, lost in conversation or their own world.

I barely paid attention.

Until I did.

Until my eyes caught her.

She sat at the window seat of DE-Exquisite, one of the most exclusive restaurants in town.

Laughing.

It was the kind of laughter that came from deep within—unfiltered, genuine. The kind I hadn’t seen in years.

She flicked her wavy chestnut hair away from her face, her lips curled into a smile that made something sharp twist inside my chest.

The man sitting across from her leaned in, grinning, clearly the reason behind her amusement.

My grip tightened on the wheel.

I didn’t realize how hard until my knuckles turned white.

The air in the car felt heavier, pressing against my ribs as I tried to breathe through it.

She was happy.

But not with me.

And that hurt more than I was willing to admit.

The light flicked green, snapping me back.

I forced my gaze forward, shifting the gear and pressing down on the accelerator.

I didn’t look back.

I couldn’t look back.

But the image was already burned into my mind—her smile, the way she looked at him, the ease in her posture.

She moved on.

Three long years, and I thought I had prepared myself for this.

I thought I had buried it.

But this—this was different.

My jaw clenched.

My grip on the wheel tightened further.

That could be her boyfriend.

Or worse—her husband.

The thought sent a surge of something dark, something unpleasant rushing through me.

I pressed my foot harder against the gas pedal.

The city blurred past in a mix of lights and motion, but none of it registered.

The only thing that did was the bitter realization sinking into my chest.

And the single word that left my lips, filled with more frustration, anger, and something dangerously close to regret—

"Fuck."