HR would have a fucking field day if they knew I was admiring her luscious ass that swayed with each step she walked. She knew exactly what she was doing and what I was thinking, only fueling the fire raging inside of me.
Her narrow hips.
Her ample breasts.
She was sporting diamond earrings, a gold bracelet, a solitaire diamond necklace, and a gold watch with an oversized designer bag tucked in the nook of her arm. Topping her outfit off with red, sky-high fuck-me heels just as I presumed when she was sitting down. She had more makeup on than I’d ever seen on her before.
She was a goddess.
An angel.
Making me realize this was what Hell looked like.
Despite her temper tantrum, our connection was still alive and thriving all around us. It felt like forever had passed, waiting for her to walk by me. I contemplated if she must have felt the same way when it came to me all those years ago.
She was constantly waiting for me to admit I had feelings for her. Never understanding how it didn’t matter if I had. We couldn’t be together.
Not then.
Not now?
Too many emotions and questions tore through my mind in those brief seconds, one right after the other with no end in sight. I couldn’t believe she was there with me, in my building, and with this unexpected ambush by my team of all places.
The clicking sound of her heels vibrated deep within my core with each step she took. One by one it added to all the chaos erupting in my mind. I had questions, and I wasn’t going to stop until she answered each one of them to my satisfaction.
My head was already throbbing, a migraine was looming, and I was surprised I could still fucking see straight with the uncertainty racing through my body.
All I wanted to do was pull her into my arms and have her stop with the games she was trying to play. The wall she’d built against me was so thick, so high, so solid that for the first time in I didn’t know how long, I feared I might lose this sudden battle between us.
I’d never lost at anything, except maybe her…
When she walked past me, I growled at my impulsive thought and grabbed her hand, tugging her back toward me. She instantly misplaced her footing and fell into my lap, catching herself on my chest.
As soon as she realized her lips were now inches away from mine, she gasped. The scent of her surrounded us, and for a moment, I almost lost control.
Almost.
Instead I rasped, “You can play this game all you want, but we both know it’s only a matter of time until you’re in my bed again, sweetheart.”
She pushed off my chest, standing tall in front of me. “If you ever speak to me like that again, Mr. Locke, I won’t just report you to Human Resources—I’ll sue you for everything you’re worth.”
I smiled, unable to remember the last time I’d done that either. Eyeing her up and down, I didn’t hesitate.
Speaking with conviction, I boldly stated, “As you know, kid, I never back down from a challenge.” Before she could shove me away again, I leaned forward and gripped onto the back of her neck, roughly bringing her to me.
When our lips were centimeters apart, I declared, “Consider this war, Miss Troy.”
Meaning every last word.
Chapter THREE
—Autumn—
Then
“Why is this junkyard so far away?” I asked, sitting in the backseat of Christian’s truck while he drove.
Our parents had just bought it for his sixteenth birthday last week, saying he deserved it for being such a great son, friend, and big brother.
Christian wasn’t like other brothers, not like most of my friends’ siblings anyway. He was always nice to me and enjoyed having me around. Even though we were six years apart, he didn’t make me feel like I was a little girl who couldn’t hang around with him. He usually let me tag along with them wherever they went.
It was only the four of us, well, five of us because Julian never went home. He stayed at our house almost every night, and he even had his own room. Mom turned one of our guest bedrooms into his own space for his tenth birthday.
I didn’t remember since I was only four years old at the time, but it was one of her favorite memories to share with us. Saying he never looked happier than he did the moment she’d surprised him with what she did for only him.
He was part of our family—always had been, always would be.
Julian didn’t know his real parents. He was raised in the system, going from foster home to foster home. I didn’t really understand what that meant, but I guessed the state-owned him until he was eighteen—a legal adult.