Chapter 80 80
The driver eased to a stop at the circular drive.
Blair unbuckled quietly, glancing at Lucas in the back seat beside the now-empty booster.
He met her eyes for a brief second—nothing said, but something unspoken passed between them.
She opened her door.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said softly, voice low enough that Olivia in the front wouldn’t hear it as an olive branch.
Lucas nodded once.
Blair stepped out, closed the door gently, and walked up the stone steps without looking back.
The SUV pulled away smoothly.
Olivia didn’t speak until they were halfway to the downtown high-rise that housed Brooks Enterprises’ headquarters.
“You’re quiet,” she said, tone light but edged. “Big day ahead. Investors. Board prep. You sure you’re focused?”
Lucas stared out the tinted window at the passing city.
“I’m fine.”
She turned in her seat just enough to study him.
“You sure? Because you’ve been… distracted. Ever since she showed up.”
Lucas’s jaw ticked.
“Drop it, Liv.”
She smiled—and faced forward again.
The rest of the ride passed in silence.
At the office tower, Lucas’s day unfolded like a gauntlet.
Meeting one: private equity group from Singapore, pushing for aggressive expansion into Southeast Asia.
Meeting two: domestic venture fund demanding quarterly burn-rate updates.
Meeting three: emergency session with legal over a patent dispute that could cost the company eight figures if it went south. He paced the conference room while the lawyers argued semantics.
Meeting four: board call with East Coast directors who wanted reassurance the “family situation” wouldn’t leak to shareholders.
By 3 p.m. he was back in his corner office—floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the city, door closed, tie loosened, sleeves rolled to the elbows.
He sank into the leather chair, elbows on the desk, head in his hands.
Stress sat on his shoulders like concrete.
His phone buzzed—another email from finance demanding revised forecasts by end of day.
He stared at the screen until the words blurred.
All he could see was:
\- Mave’s small hand in his this morning, swinging between him and Blair like they were already a family again.
He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling roughly.
....
Lucas strode out of the boardroom on the 42nd floor, jacket slung over one shoulder, tie already loosened two buttons down. His assistant—Marissa, hurried after him, tablet clutched to her chest.
“Mr. Brooks, your 4:30 with the Dubai consortium is confirmed, and legal needs your signature on the—”
“Cancel all meetings,” he said without breaking stride. “I’m heading home.”
Marissa faltered mid-step, blinking once.
“But sir… the Dubai call is the last chance to lock in the Series C bridge round before quarter-end. They flew in specifically—”
Lucas stopped at the elevator bank, pressed the down button, and turned just enough to meet her eyes.
“I said cancel them.”
His tone wasn’t angry—simply final. The kind of quiet that left no room for negotiation.
Marissa swallowed, fingers hovering over her tablet screen.
“Yes, sir. I’ll… I’ll send the cancellations and reschedule for tomorrow. Should I tell them you had an emergency?”
“Tell them whatever keeps the deal warm. I don’t care.”
The elevator doors slid open. Lucas stepped inside.
Marissa stayed put, watching the doors close on his back.
Once alone in the mirrored box, Lucas pulled out his phone and dialed the private driver service the family used for school runs.
“Pick up Mave from Willowbrook at 3:15 sharp,” he said the second the line connected. “Bring him straight home. No stops. Blair will be waiting at the gate.”
“Yes, Mr. Brooks. Already en route. ETA twelve minutes.”
“Good. Text me when he’s in the car.”
He ended the call, pocketed the phone, and leaned his head back against the wall as the elevator descended.
By the time he reached the underground garage, his black Range Rover was already idling—driver standing at attention beside the open rear door.
Lucas slid into the back seat without a word.
The car pulled out smoothly, merging into downtown traffic.
Fifteen minutes later—traffic mercifully light—he walked through the mansion’s front doors.
Olivia was waiting in the foyer.
She’d changed since the morning—
She looked like she’d spent the last hour in front of a mirror perfecting the “concerned fiancée” look.
The second she saw him she stepped forward, smile soft, voice honeyed.
“I came at the right time,” she said, reaching out to smooth the lapel of his jacket. “Can we go now? You look stressed out, my love.”
Her fingers lingered on his chest—possessive, familiar.
Lucas caught her wrist gently but firmly, removing her hand.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly. “I canceled the rest of my day. I’m staying home.”
Olivia’s smile flashed—only for a second—then returned brighter.
“Oh. Even better. We can finally have some time. Just us.” She stepped closer, voice dropping to that intimate purr she used when she wanted something. “You’ve been so tense lately. Let me help you unwind.”
Olivia slipped into the master suite right behind Lucas, closing the door with a soft, click. He didn’t notice at first—he was already shrugging off his jacket, tossing it over the armchair, shoulders rolling as if he could physically shake off the weight of the day.
She moved quietly, heels left by the door so her bare feet made no sound on the carpet. By the time he turned toward the bathroom, she was close—close enough to press her front to his back, arms sliding around his waist from behind.
“Lucas…” she purred against his ear, voice low and syrupy. “You’re so tense. Let me help.”
He stiffened instantly.
“Liv, I’m not—”
“Shhh.” She cut him off gently, fingers already working the buttons of his shirt from behind. “Just let me take care of you. You’ve been carrying everything. The meetings, the kid, her… you deserve to relax.”
She peeled the shirt off his shoulders slowly, letting it drop to the floor. Her palms glided up the warm skin of his back—tracing black ink that covered his shoulder.
She’d always loved those tattoos. Always traced them the same way when she wanted to remind him who used to own this body.
Her nails scraped lightly over the ink.
“God, I’ve missed this,” she whispered, lips brushing the nape of his neck. “Missed feeling you under my hands… missed the way you used to lose control when I touched you here…”
Lucas exhaled roughly, head dipping forward.
“Liv—”
She didn’t let him finish. One hand slipped into the pocket of her skirt and came out with a small white pill—unmarked, innocent-looking.
“Here,” she murmured, pressing it to his lips. “Open.”
He hesitated.
“It’s just a stress reliever,” she cooed. “Natural. No side effects. You need it, baby. You’re shaking.”
He was—subtly.
She slipped the pill onto his tongue.
He swallowed dry.
Olivia smiled against his skin.
“Good boy.”
She stepped around to face him, hands sliding down his bare chest, nails dragging over his pecs, circling his nipples until they hardened under her touch.