Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

LUCILLE

Taking one last look at my reflection in the mirror, I stand to the side and ensure that I look okay. Well, better than okay. I want to look out of this world, hot and amazing. I want him to drool at the sight of me and beg for me back.

I mean, it’s been a decade since he’s seen me. I know I don’t look like the girl I once was, but I have to admit that I look really hot right now. I need him to want me, to beg for me, although it won’t be much of a begging situation because I’ll spread for him the second he asks.

With my chin tilted in the air, I make my way to my car. Glancing at the parking lot, I take in the area to ensure that no one is around. I don’t know what it is about spying, but it makes me seriously paranoid that someone is watching me, too.

Flicking my attention between the rearview mirror and the road when I’m sure that nobody is following me, only then do I beat a path straight for Securus. The building comes into view, familiar and yet strange and new.

I’ve only viewed it from afar, never having gone inside before. That all changes today. I park in the visitor spot, open my door, and grab the notebook next to me. I don’t walk quickly toward the building; I know they have cameras focused on me, so I take my sweet-ass time.

When I stand in front of the large glass double doors, I reach for the handle and tug. The door doesn’t budge, not even a little bit. It’s locked. Frowning, I look to the left of the door for a buzzer or something, but there isn’t anything except a little speaker-looking thing.

“Door’s locked, sweetheart,” a deep voice murmurs.

Smiling, I lean forward and put my mouth near the speaker without touching it. “Can you please let me in?”

“Do you have a meeting?” he asks.

Keeping my smile firmly planted in place, I shake my head. “No, but I need to speak to Theron,” I call out.

There is a moment of silence. I wonder if he’s talking to Theron. If he knows who I am, or maybe he’s checking my background. I have no idea, but the silence feels heavy. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I wonder if I’m going to see him today, or ever.

Maybe he’s already made his choice. But then again, he did make that choice. Ten years ago, he made it and broke my heart. I’ve always told myself that we were too young, that he was dealing with trauma and was too broken.

But I never really thought that he left me because he didn’t love me. Because he didn’t want me. Even ten years later, I want every single piece of him. I just thought he felt the same way. With each minute that passes, I can’t help but think that this was a mistake.

“Door’s open,” he calls out.

I hear the door click, and I reach for the handle, tugging it open before I step inside. The door closes behind me, clicking as it locks back into place. I don’t really see the room that I’ve just stepped into because the man who is standing just a few feet away from me makes my heart slam against my chest.

Theron Henderson in the flesh.

He’s so close that I can almost touch him.

“Theron,” I whisper when he doesn’t say anything.

“What are you doing here, Lucille? Are you in trouble?”

I almost laugh because that’s funny. Me being in trouble. How could I be in trouble when all I do is work and switch between watching him and watching his latest fuck? Sometimes I watch him as he fucks said latest fuck.

“I’m not in trouble, but I think that you might be.”

THERON

As I live and breathe, Lucille Sanders stands in front of me looking absolutely goddamn fuckable. I’ve only seen her through the video surveillance that I keep running. I haven’t been this close to her in years.

“Me?” I ask, forcing myself to speak instead of eye-fuck her.

She lifts the corner of her lips up slightly, then takes a step toward me, then another, until she’s just a foot away. Goddamn, I could touch her right now, and I want to. I want to feel her body against mine.

I fucked Emmie just a few hours ago, but it’s like I haven’t been laid in years as I stand here with my balls aching and begging to release. Arching a brow, I take half a step toward her, then jerk my chin before I spin around and begin walking toward my office.

If it was anyone else, I’d make her tell me whatever the fuck she was going to tell me right here in the entryway. But it’s Lucille. I can hear her footsteps behind me as I move through the halls and open my office door.

I stand to the side and allow Lucille to walk through. I watch as she sinks down in the seat across from my desk, a notebook in her hand. Making my way around the desk, I sit down in my own chair.

Having the desk between us is what I need right now because I’m ready to bend her over said desk and fuck her until neither of us can see straight. I don’t ever want to see straight again. I want to be with her.

“You’re here. I’m listening. What do you want to tell me?” I ask after I finish eye-fucking her.

“I’ve been researching Emmie Grant, and I think there is something going on with her. I don’t know what it is, but there is something. Her father owns the Willow Club with some other partners, and the gallery where she works is owned by one of the men who owns the Willow Club. But Emmie hasn’t gone to college, and neither has the owner. What kind of person owns a fancy art gallery in Nights with no art education or any education at all? I don’t understand it,” she rambles.

It's cute as fuck, but I need to get whatever the fuck she has swimming around in her head straightened out.

“Slow down, Luce,” I urge, using the nickname that I once called her. “Let’s start from the beginning. Why have you been researching Emmie Grant?” I ask.

I already know some of what she’s saying, but I find it extremely interesting that she is doing her own research. I want to know why. Obviously, she’s been watching me throughout the years just as much as I have been her.

“I just have,” she snaps.

Chuckling, I lean back in my chair, my eyes searching hers. She leans forward, placing her palm on the desk as she watches me for a long moment. She closes her eyes slowly as her hand falls from my desk, and she leans back before she opens them.

“Because I knew she didn’t deserve you. She’s manipulative, but you already know that. This is more than that.”

Letting out a hum, I wonder how long I can sit here attempting to listen to her talk when all I want to do is rip her clothes off. “What is it, Lucille?”

“It’s a million red flags,” she whispers. “A million.”

She’s not wrong. But I can’t tell her any of that. I need to know what she knows so I can decide whether she needs to be in protective custody.

Lucille rests her hands on my desk. As she leans forward, her eyes meet mine.

“I’m telling you that something is wrong with this situation, Theron. She’s not just a manipulative bitch; there are some inner workings that I don’t understand yet, but they are there, and I’m worried that something might happen to you.”

“You’re worried about me?” I ask.

That catches me off guard. I’m not sure what to think or say to that. Nobody has ever worried about me, not fucking ever. As much as I want to tell her that I’m going to be fine, I can’t say that. Hell, if she wants to worry about me, she can. She can worry all over my dick.

Standing, I walk around my desk. She leans back in her seat, her eyes widening as I lean my ass against the edge of my desk and look down at her.

“I’m worried about you,” she whispers.

“You don’t need to be. I’m a big boy,” I say.

She gulps, her gaze flicking to the side before she brings it back to meet mine. “I know, Theron, but there is something seriously wrong with her.”

I agree with her. I’m just trying to figure out how she’s gotten so much information so quickly. She tilts her head to the side, then stands up and takes a step toward me. She doesn’t touch me, but she’s close enough that it wouldn’t take much.

A lift of her hand, an extension of her finger, and part of her body would be touching part of mine.

“I appreciate you coming to me with this, Lucille. I’m just not sure why you were doing it.”

“Because she doesn’t deserve you,” she whispers.

As I look down at her, my eyelids lower, and I focus on her, unable to look anywhere else. Lifting my hand, I cup her cheek. I need to touch her, my body aching to be near her, as close as possible, so close that I’m inside of her.

“Lucille,” I whisper.

She tries to take a step backward, but I anticipate the move, wrapping my arm around her and holding her against my body, keeping her close to me. I can smell her, practically taste her, and I want every part of her body right this minute.

Lowering my head, I touch my mouth to hers.

“She doesn’t,” Lucille exhales.

“But you do?” I ask.

“Always.”