Page 31 of Boardroom Sins

That sucks all the air out of the vehicle. Lukas shows no outward sign of it, but Ifeelit, like the warmth is being stolen away from me. His hands on the wheel seem to ice over, somehow, and his eyes do the same.

“People talk,” Lukas intones at last, his face guarded and cryptic. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

He pulls up to my building. The car stops, but the engine remains on and idling.

Then he turns to look at me. Those gray eyes are unreadable in the dark. “You ask a lot of questions, Ms. Everett.”

“Is that a problem?”

“That remains to be seen.”

I busy myself with assembling my stuff. By the time I’ve gathered my bag and my scattered thoughts, he’s out and rounding the hood of the car. He opens my door and waits there, hand extended, like this is some kind of date.

It’s not a date. Obviously. He’s just being… polite, I guess you’d call it? Is Lukas Lazarev capable of being polite? Or maybe it’s a generational thing. Men of his era open doors for ladies and lay coats over puddles and bring flowers, whether or not they mean it.

The thought of Lukas Lazarev brandishing a bouquet of roses immediately makes me giggle. I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle it.

But when I step out onto the sidewalk, all thoughts of laughing go away. It’s cold as hell outside, and I forgot how thin this coat is.

He walks me to the door. His hand hovers near the small of my back but doesn’t touch.

“Get some sleep,” he advises when we reach the stoop. “Tomorrow will be busy.”

I fumble for my keys. My fingers are clumsy from the cold, and also from— No, just the cold. Definitely not from his proximity.

“Thank you,” I manage to splutter. “For the ride.”

It’s only when I look up that I realize exactly how close we’re standing. I could count every individual fiber in Lukas’s beard from here. His breath fogs in the cold air between us.

His gaze drops to my mouth. Lingers there.

My lips part. I don’t mean for them to; they just do.

And as they do, the dream rushes back. His thumb pressing against my lower lip…Open… Good girl…The taste of salt and mint…

He reaches out. For a second, I think he’s going to touch my face. My heart stops.

But his hand descends. He pries the keys from my uncooperative fingers and unlocks the door himself, then pushes it open to reveal my shabby apartment lobby.