Lexi

I stared at the boxes scattered around my tiny apartment, feeling like I was looking at the remnants of someone else's life. Three weeks. That's how long I'd been living in Lucian's penthouse, and somehow it had felt more like home than this place ever had.

"Stop it," I muttered to myself, taping up another box. "It was never your home."

My phone buzzed on the counter. Mia's name flashed across the screen.

"Please tell me you're not actually doing this," she said without preamble when I answered.

"Doing what?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Lexi.”

I sank onto my couch, suddenly exhausted. "I came to my senses."

"Your senses? Girl, your senses were telling you to stay with the man who clearly adores you. What changed?"

"Everything. Nothing. I don't know." I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache building. "It was all pretence, Mia. I was living in some fantasy where I thought I belonged in his world."

"Says who?"

The question hung in the air. I couldn't tell her about Giselle. I couldn't admit that some woman I barely knew had managed to tear apart my confidence with a single conversation.

"Says reality," I said finally. "Have you seen the gossip blogs? They're already speculating about why I was living there."

"So? Let them speculate. Since when do you care what strangers think?"

Since Giselle had painted a picture of my mother's memory being dragged through the mud. Since she'd made me realize how naive I'd been to think I could navigate Lucian's world without consequences.

"It's complicated."

"No, it's not. You're scared. I get it. But running away isn't going to make your feelings disappear."

"My feelings don't matter." The words tasted bitter. "This isn't some romance novel, Mia. This is real life, and in real life, people like me don't end up with people like him."

"People like you? Lexi, what are you talking about?" Mia said. I could feel the disgust in her tone.

"I'm talking about a girl who grew up in a trailer park, whose mother cleaned houses for a living before she died who's still paying off her father's endless loans.” Tear stung my eyes. “I'm talking about someone who doesn't belong at galas and charity auctions and whatever other events fill up his calendar.”

"And I'm talking about someone who's brilliant and kind and makes him smile like he's never smiled before. Someone who challenges him and supports him and fits into his life perfectly.” Mia responded, almost shouting.

"I don't fit, Mia. I never did. I was just too stupid to see it."

Silence stretched between us. I could hear Mia breathing, could practically feel her frustration through the phone.

"He asked about you today," she said quietly. “His assistant messaged me.”

My heart did that stupid skip again. "What did he ask?"

"If you were okay. If you needed anything. Gregory said he looked like he hadn't slept in days."

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the image of Lucian worried and exhausted. "He'll be fine. He has Giselle."

"Giselle? That ice queen? Lexi, you can't seriously think…"

"I have to go," I interrupted. "I have a call."

"At eight PM on a Friday?" She asked.

"Bye, Mia.” I hung up before she could argue, then immediately turned my phone to silent. I couldn't handle any more well-meaning friends trying to convince me I was making a mistake.

Because maybe I was making a mistake. Maybe Giselle was wrong and Mia was right and I was throwing away something beautiful because I was too afraid to go for it.

But what if Giselle was right? What if staying would destroy him?

I spent the weekend deep-cleaning my apartment, as if scrubbing every surface could somehow scrub away the memory of waking up in Lucian's guest room, of sharing breakfast with him, of feeling like I belonged somewhere for the first time in my life.

By Monday morning, I'd almost convinced myself I'd made the right choice. I walked into the Cross Entertainment building with my chin up and my shoulders back, ready to prove that I could be professional and distant and completely unaffected by Lucian's presence.

Then I saw him in the lobby, talking to Marcus near the elevators, and nearly stumbled.

He looked terrible. His usual perfect appearance was slightly rumpled, his hair looked like he'd been running his hands through it, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

Our gazes met across the crowded lobby, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. He took a step towards me, his expression hopeful, almost desperate.

I turned and walked towards the stairs instead of the elevator.

"Lexi, wait!" He called.

I could hear him calling my name, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. Because if I stopped, if I looked at him again, I might lose my resolve entirely.

He stopped when he couldn't catch up with me and I felt my hesrt ache.

The rest of the week passed in a haze of awkward encounters and careful avoidance. I ate lunch at my desk, stayed late to avoid the elevator rush, and threw myself into work with a determination that bordered on obsessive.

Thursday afternoon, I was reviewing budget projections when someone knocked on my office door.

"Come in." I said without looking up.

"Miss Carter? Mr. Cross would like to see you in his office."

Gregory stood in my doorway, looking uncomfortable.

My stomach dropped. "Did he say what about?"

"No, ma'am. But he seemed... insistent."

I followed Gregory down the hall on unsteady legs, my heart hammering against my ribs. When we reached Lucian's office, Gregory opened the door and gestured for me to enter.

Lucian was standing behind his desk, his back to the door, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the city below. He didn't turn around when I entered.

"Close the door," he said quietly.

I hesitated, then did as he asked. The soft click of the latch seemed unnaturally loud in the silence.

"You wanted to see me?" My voice came out steadier than I felt.

He turned then, and the look in his eyes nearly brought me to my knees. Pain. Raw, unguarded pain that he wasn't trying to hide.

"I know what she told you." He said.