Only my dad wasn’t downstairs. He’d heard the whole thing.
My father’s face had turned a terrible shade of purple as he told Luka to leave. We tried to calm him down and tell him it had been a joke, but eventually Luka’s true self broke free, and he announced I lived with him now.
“Addison’s twenty-one,” Luka said, standing tall under my father’s angry glare. “An adult.”
“And she’s also our daughter,” my father snapped back at him. “It’s our responsibility to keep her from making poor decisions.”
Luka’s expression soured. His hand wrapped around mine, tugging me toward the closet so we could retrieve our coats.
“Addie,” my mother pleaded. “This is crazy!” She stared at me with disbelief, probably wondering what the hell had happened to make their smart daughter move in with a serious and imposing man she’d only really known for a month.
“I know it’s kinda fast,” I said. How on earth was I going to explain it? Luka’s and my relationship was like an arranged marriage where our lives had been thrust together, and we were doing our best to make it work.
My father didn’t need an explanation and wasn’t intimidated by Luka. He put his hands on his hips and puffed up his chest. “You’re just kids. You’re both too young to be playing house.”
The hand on my wrist tightened and I sucked in a breath. Outwardly, yes. Luka appeared young, but he wasn’t, and I sensed how annoyed he was with being called a kid.
Luka’s tone was edged with controlled anger. “I’m four years older than you were, when you married your wife, sir.”
My dad’s shoulders pulled back as if Luka’s statement was a verbal slap. But it was true. My parents had been high school sweethearts and gotten married at twenty-two.
Luka held my coat for me to put on. “I think it’s best if we head out. I’m sorry if I upset you, but the truth is I’m selfish and greedy. I enjoy coming home to her every night. I like Addison . . . very much. Can you blame me for wanting to be around her?”
His gaze found mine and he flashed a full-out grin.
It was a miracle my eyes didn’t fall out of my head. A tiny voice inside said he’d only done this for effect, playing the role of the love-struck boyfriend, but dear God . . . When his face lit up, it was hard not to believe this was truth.
His smile drugged me. I was marginally aware he delivered our goodbyes to my parents, apologizing once more for making the holiday uncomfortable, and telling my parents they were welcome at our home anytime. I genuinely had no idea how they would handle that. The exterior of the house was just as impressive as the interior. Would my parents’ jaws hit the floor as they pulled up in the circle drive of the mansion?
“That didn’t really go as I’d planned,” he commented when we were seated in the car. His long fingers rested on the leather-wrapped steering wheel, and I wondered if he’d put his hand there so he could have a sense of control. “But they needed to know eventually.”
I stared out the window, waiting for him to put the car in gear and back out of my parents’ driveway, but he didn’t. We sat in cold silence for an eternity.
“Addison.” He placed his hand in my lap, gently squeezing my thigh. “I meant what I said.”
“That you want to fuck me on my high school bed with a thumb in my ass? I’m sure.”
He glared at me. “You know what I’m talking about.” He exhaled, signaling frustration. “I told you, I’m not good at that shit, but I like coming home now, okay? People usually get on my nerves, but not you.” He looked so different when he was unsure. “I like being with you.”
I stared at the hand in my lap. It was the same for me, but I couldn’t admit it. He’d steamrolled right over me; how could I confess to liking it? To liking him?
He waited impatiently for my response, so I dropped my hand on top of his, encasing his warm fingers. It was the best I could do. I was sure he wasn’t overly pleased, but it seemed to satisfy him enough, because he put the car into gear.
π
I hadn’t heard Luka come into the office because I’d been too busy studying. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that my head snapped up and my gaze locked on to him. He leaned back against the desk, his arms crossed, and a rich blue tie hung loose at his neck.
“Go change into something nice,” he ordered. “We’re going out to dinner.”
Was he insane? He’d never interrupted me before, and it was finals week. I shook my head. “I’m studying.” I pointed to the textbook in my lap to reinforce my statement.