Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

LUKAS

T he next day, after using every ounce of self-control I have to ignore Maci, I grip my cell phone hard, pressing it against my ear. Standing at my window, I watch the security circulating. Ethan, my daughter's date, is on his way.

"What do you mean?" I snap at Sebastian, my nerves already taut from being in the same house as Maci and somehow withholding my desire.

"I can't tell you where I'm going," he repeats.

"Seb, what the hell are you talking about?" I grind my teeth, struggling to keep my voice level. I'm supposed to be playing the supportive, understanding dad role, not worrying about my friend.

"I need some space," he goes on. "I thought it was only fair to warn you. You'll be handling stuff on your own."

"Have you lost your goddamn mind? I need you. Are you drunk? High? Listen, Seb, I've been an ass, okay? I've been a selfish prick, but you're my best friend. You don't need to do this, whatever it is."

"Relax," he says. "It's not… anything like that. I'm not going to hurt myself. I'm just tired of it all. I'm tired of the race. I've got no wife. No kids. No real life. I want to change that. I'm taking some time for myself. I hope you can respect my decision."

I close my eyes, massaging my forehead. Clearly, I can't be a good dad, but maybe I can be a good friend. "If this is what you really want," I say, "then I understand. But I don't understand why you can't tell me where you're going or what you'll be doing."

"Just taking some time," he says vaguely. "Don't worry. I'll keep in touch."

"Seb, is something wrong?" I ask. "I mean, apart from the stuff we've talked about? Is somebody blackmailing you, maybe? Have you gotten into something? You can talk to me."

A pause. For a moment, I think he's going to tell me I'm right, but then he mutters, "It's nothing like that, Luke. I just need some space."

He hangs up. Not even ten seconds later, Kayla excitedly knocks on the door. "Dad, he's here!"

I turn to the mirror, adjusting my tie. I've decided to dress formally for the evening. There's no telling who this Ethan really is. Out of respect for Kayla, I haven't run a background check, but I still intend to present myself as any father should—vaguely intimidating.

"I'm coming," I say.

Since my getaway has been busted anyway, I brought my chef down from the city with my security. I enter the dining room to find candles lit and a beautiful young woman sitting with her back to me, wearing a silver, silky dress, her hair in soft waves and gorgeous down to her shoulders.

Maci turns, aims a tight smile, then wipes it clean when she remembers I've reverted to my cold asshole routine. Being so distant with her hurts, but it's my only strategy. I'll let it all go if I let out a shard of hunger.

A moment later, Kayla clears her throat from behind me. She stands with a young man at her side. He's tall and muscular, wearing a shirt a couple of sizes too big, tucked into pants scuffed around the knees, but the clothes are clean. I can tell he's made an effort, even if he doesn't have the means.

His hair is black like mine used to be, long on the top and cut close on the sides. He steps forward, offering his hand. "Good evening, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you."

I take his hand. At least he's got manners. "And you, young man."

"Thank you for inviting me into your home," he says, his handshake firm but not overly firm, the way some people can be. It's like they're compensating for something. He seems like a genuine, confident, humble young man, but I won't let my first impression ultimately dictate how I feel about him.

From behind him, Kayla beams, clearly loving how well we're getting on already.

"What's for dinner?" she asks, sitting at the table.

"Steak or fish," I say, taking my seat at the head of the table.

"What about steak and fish?" Ethan smirks.

I laugh, thinking about what having a son would've been like. Out of the corner of my eye, Maci sparkles like a jewel, adding more fuel to those thoughts. Is it too late? I need to calm myself down. I'm getting too intense too early with a woman who's way too inappropriate.

"If you think you can handle it," I tell him, "I might join you."

Maci is sitting next to me. I'm sure I can feel the heat of her leg under the table. I move my finger up and down the cutlery, struggling not to reach under and grab her thick thigh. Is she wearing tights? She was sitting when I entered. What if her bare, sexy, perfect leg is right there , waiting for me to grab and massage it? I'd make her moan in that sexy way—that just-for-me way.

Ethan grins. "Challenge accepted."

"Juice, anyone?" I ask.

"What about something stronger?" Kayla teases.

I shake my head. "We won't be drinking this evening."

"Water's fine for me, sir," Ethan says.

"I was only kidding," Kayla adds quietly.

I'm not a Puritan by any means, but having an alcohol- and drug-addicted partner tends to make substances less appealing.

When the waiter enters, I watch Ethan, waiting to see his response. He's clearly far poorer than Kayla's previous boyfriends. Their parents were millionaires, and they still wanted to climb the ladder, so to speak, but they were rich. Ethan is just an ordinary young man. He smiles kindly at the waiter. "Thank you, sir."

The waiter—a friendly, hardworking man called Kenneth—double-takes as though in shock. "You're quite welcome."

I don't smile, but I can feel the corners of my lips tugging. An insane possible future comes to me—a double date with Kayla, Ethan, Maci, and me. It would never work. Yet, I find myself hungering for it.

"So, Ethan, what do you do?"

Kayla shoots me a look as if to say, Really, Dad, the questioning is starting already?

I keep my gaze fixed on him.

"I wash cars," he says without a hint of shame. "Long shifts, but the pay's decent."

"Tell him about your poetry," Kayla says eagerly.

"That's… not important." He looks down into his glass.

"I'd like to hear about it," I say, wondering why Maci hasn't said a single word, wondering what's going on in that beautiful head of hers.

He shrugs. "I write mostly about my parents. They were… addicts. We grew up in a mining town, but the mine closed. It's a familiar story but no less tragic just because it's continually happening nationwide. Maybe that makes it more tragic. There's not much money in poetry for most poets, so I wash cars."

"It must be hard work," I say.

"It is, but I don't mind."

Kayla is beaming at me, and I can't deny that I'm impressed. When dinner is served and we make small talk—much about my and Sebastian's company—I watch Ethan closely, looking for any signs of disingenuousness. One skill I've cultivated over the years is watching people—during meetings and deals—for possible backstabbings. Ethan is either the greatest actor I've ever met or just a sincere young man intent on making a mark on the world.

Toward the end of dinner, Kayla asks Maci, "Are you okay?"

I tighten my grip on my fork. It's the question I've wanted to ask her since the meal began, but I haven't even dared to look across at her. She sparkles at the edge of my vision.

"I'm fine," she murmurs.

"Okay…"

That's it. Then it passes. I silently roar at Kayla to follow-up.

Once the meal is over, Ethan stands. "I should get going."

"You don't have to leave ," Kayla says.

"I don't want to overstay my welcome," he replies, "but could I use the bathroom first?"

"I'll show you where it is," Kayla mutters.

"It's okay. I can find it."

Ethan exits the room. Kayla waits for him to go, then turns to me quickly, almost leaping out of her seat. "So? What's the verdict? He's great, isn't he? He's not like my other boyfriends. He's so polite , and he's normal ."

"He seems like a friendly, intelligent young man," I tell her, "but I can't give you a verdict, Kayla. I hardly know him, but he made a good first impression."

"I think he might be the one," Kayla mutters.

"Kay," Maci says, almost snapping. "Don't say stuff like that. He's a nice person, sure. He's friendly, but you've only known each other for a couple of weeks. You don't know if he's the one . You can't know it that fast ."

Kayla leans back, narrowing her eyes at her friend in confusion. I'm not confused, though. Maci isn't talking about Ethan and Kayla. She's talking about us . She's telling herself and me that neither she nor I can be sure there's any connection here. She's driving home how impossible this is.

"Okay, chill," Kayla says. "Jeez. Sorry for being excited ."

"I don't want to see you get hurt again," Maci mutters apologetically.

"He's not going to hurt me."

I'm on Maci's side, but I don't interject. My daughter is a grownup and needs to make her own decisions, not that I'd ever knowingly let anything happen to her. I also don't want her to feel like we're ganging up on her.

A few minutes later, Ethan returns. He walks over to me and offers his hand. "Thank you again, sir. I hope I can repay the kindness one day."

"I'll walk you out," Kayla says.

They leave. It's just Maci and me in the room. I can smell her perfume, or is it just her scent? Despite the Michelin-star-level meal, I can still taste her on my lips. My head is light like I'm under the water, almost passing out from focusing on her perfect sex.

Finally, I look at her thoroughly: the subtle makeup on her cheeks and slightly red lips. It all brings out her natural beauty rather than masking or replacing it. She bites her lip, staring at me.

"You look beautiful," I whisper.

She opens her mouth. Her chest rises and falls like she's been waiting all evening for me to say that. Then she turns and stares down at the table. "Cold, remember?" she hisses in return.

I reach across the table and touch her hand. For a warm moment, we hold each other, but then she snatches her hand away, shaking her head.

"Luke…"

"I know," I groan. "Dammit, I know."

"I-I need the bathroom."

She stands and turns away from me. Even now, I admire her shape and the width of her hips. She isn't wearing tights, giving me a mouthwatering look at her thighs from behind. She stops at the door, looking at me over her shoulder. It's like she wants me to follow her and tear off that silky silver dress like it's gift wrap. This time, even if we're not in the pool, she'll be even wetter, even hotter.

Fuck . This is hard, just like my rod, thick and filled to the brim with come.

She turns away. With everything I have, I focus on staying in the chair.