Poach
1057 Words
Elena glared at his sharp, tempting throat, a defiant smile curving her lips.
“Lucas Bennett, you lost the right to demand anything from me.”
“The great Mr. Bennett—can’t handle being alone? Digging your own nephew’s corner now?”
They’d only dated three months, but Elena knew exactly how to get under his skin.
To her surprise, Lucas laughed—low, wicked, and devastating—his breath hot against her ear.
“Sounds pretty thrilling, doesn’t it?”
As if the moment he abandoned morals, she couldn’t use them against him.
Elena muttered under her breath, “Scum.”
Beneath that refined mask, pure possessive viciousness.
Sure enough, the amusement in his eyes deepened—he clearly enjoyed being cursed at.
He dipped his head, forehead gently brushing her cheek.
“Elena… can we stop this? Can we get back together?”
She shoved him. “Get it straight—I’m your nephew’s fiancée.”
It was a marriage of convenience, public knowledge or not.
What did it look like, him pinning her here?
At the mention of Ethan, Lucas’s expression darkened, all traces of humor gone.
“Baby, every time you remind me of your ‘relationship’ with him, it only makes me want to kill him more.”
Ethan Cole was nothing. How dare he covet what was his.
Elena knew he wasn’t joking. The man who’d just put his nephew in the hospital in front of witnesses was capable of anything.
She shrugged, unbothered. “I wouldn’t mind if you did—as long as it doesn’t delay my project timeline.”
If Lucas wanted to clean up Ethan for her, she’d be grateful.
But the Brooks-Cole merger couldn’t be jeopardized.
A spark of pleasure lit his face.
“So you don’t like him.”
“Makes sense. No reason your standards would drop that low after leaving me.”
Elena jabbed a finger against his chest through the crisp shirt, scoffing.
“Don’t forget—you’re no saint either.”
He didn’t dodge. Instead, he caught her hand and pressed it flat over his heart.
His pulse raced beneath her palm.
“Baby, is this your first day knowing me?” Lucas’s grin turned sinful. “You’re right. I’m not a good man.”
“I’m your dog.”
Something exploded behind Elena’s eyes, yanking every buried emotion to the surface.
She yanked her hand back. “Who’s your baby? Stop with the nicknames.”
He’d always been full of filthy sweet talk when they dated. Now that they were broken up? Worse.
Lucas stared at her flushed face—porcelain skin tinted pink, brows furrowed in anger, eyes blazing only at him.
Her lips parted in fury, full and tempting.
He couldn’t even hear the words anymore.
He just wanted to kiss her.
“Sweetheart, you have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”
No longer cold and distant. Angry. Alive.
He was obsessed.
Elena almost laughed from sheer frustration.
She hated how completely he controlled her emotions—like silent proof she could still fall for him anytime.
His voice dropped. “I know getting back together takes time. I won’t force you. But don’t force me either, okay? End it with him.”
Or he genuinely didn’t know what he’d do when jealousy drove him insane.
Elena met his gaze, serious. “I’ll dump him eventually. But not for you.”
The engagement was purely business. Ethan’s recent behavior had disgusted her beyond tolerance. One day soon, she’d kick him to the curb.
To Lucas, only the first half registered.
She’d dump him.
His tension eased, eyes bright and triumphant—like a stroked predator.
His wife still cared more about him.
He leaned in greedily, all last night’s arrogance gone.
“Baby, your heart was racing just now. You still feel something for me, don’t you?”
Before she could answer, his phone rang.
He ignored it, but the caller persisted.
Lucas cursed under his breath, pulled it out, and answered—still caging her against the door, afraid she’d bolt.
Caleb Frost’s smug voice blasted through.
“Lucas, you’re really back in New York? Remember that girl—Elena Brooks, your ex? She’s hooked up with your nephew now! You two are gonna run into each other constantly. That first-love face of hers hasn’t changed a bit. Stay strong, man—don’t go digging corners just because you can’t let go!”
Lucas: “…”
Elena mentally added: Already digging…
Caleb kept going. “After all, the way you walked away from that breakup? Ice cold. Not a single regret! And that legendary line you dropped…”
“‘If anyone begs to get back together, they’re the dog.’”
“True role model! Alpha among alphas!”
The words echoed in the stairwell.
Silence.
Elena yanked her wrist free and walked out without looking back.
The call was still connected. Caleb, hearing nothing, asked, “Hello? Lucas, you there?”
Lucas stared at his empty hand, grinding his teeth. “f**k your mother.”
“My mom’s not here!”
Caleb paused. “Wait—why are you cursing me out?”
Click. Call ended.
Caleb: ???
Did he say something wrong?
Lucas pressed fingers to his brow, frustration boiling.
“I just f*****g calmed her down…”
Elena stepped out of the SoHo club, Caleb’s words replaying in her head.
No regrets? Fine. She had none either.
She stood curbside waiting for a ride. Rush hour—hundreds in the queue.
A taxi pulled up, passenger exiting. Just as she moved toward it, a silver-gray Koenigsegg slid in front, blocking it.
Someone else snatched the cab in seconds.
Elena stopped dead.
The Koenigsegg—New York plates, globally limited edition—eased to a stop beside her.
The window lowered.
Lucas rested one hand on the wheel, sharp profile turned toward her.
“Get in.”
Elena didn’t move.
At night outside an exclusive club, a multi-million-dollar hypercar idling curbside with those plates drew eyes fast.
But Lucas showed no intention of leaving.
She took a step forward. His car crept forward.
Onlookers multiplied. Phones came out.
His voice turned coaxing.
“Sweetheart, if you don’t get in soon, everyone will assume we’re more than a little involved.”
- Writer
