Lucian   

The moment Lexi Carter stumbled into me at the gala, two things came to mind. Firstly, she was the worst spy I'd ever seen, and secondly, I had to have her.  

Not like that. Though the way her ridiculous dress clung to her hips certainly didn't hurt. But what fascinated me was the fire in her eyes when she accused me of dishonesty. Most people either feared me or wanted something from me. Lexi looked at me like I was a stain on her favorite shoes.  

Finally, someone interesting.  I smirked.

At the gala, the champagne flute in my hand was just for show. I hadn't taken a sip all evening. I was too busy watching the little journalist from The Daily Buzz make her terrible attempt at espionage. Lexi Carter moved through the charity gala like a bull in a crystal shop, her cheap black dress and scuffed heels standing out among the designer gowns like a warning sign.

Gregory appeared at my elbow. “She hacked our press list to get in, sir. Should I have security remove her?”

I watched as Lexi nearly tripped over a waiter, catching herself at the last second. The flush that crept up her neck was almost... charming. “No,” I said, finishing my untouched drink. “I'll handle this one personally.”

The moment she collided with me was more satisfying than it should have been. The way her body stiffened when she realized who she'd run into. Her camera was practically begging to be taken, clutched in white-knuckled fingers.

“You're not very subtle, Miss Carter,” I said, plucking the device from her hands with ease. Up close, she smelled like citrus and something earthy, shampoo from a drugstore bottle, probably. The realization shouldn't have been as intriguing as it was.

Her recovery was admirable. Chin jutting out, eyes flashing. “And you're not very honest. What are you hiding, Mr. Cross?” She replied. Which got me wondering if I was still the same person.

Most people stuttered when I got this close. Most people backed down. But this girl just leaned in, her breath warm against my jaw as she practically dared me to throw her out.

That's when I knew I had to play with this one. Just a little.

I'm sure she might be wondering how I got her name. She’d be shocked when she finds out I know a lot about her.

I had my assistant dig up all he could on her the moment I saw her standing outside the hotel looking like she didn't belong here. 

From my penthouse balcony, I watched the city lights twinkle like fallen stars. 

Gregory walked in. “Miss Carter is downstairs, sir.”

A slow smile spread across my face. Perfect.

The elevator doors opened to reveal Lexi pacing my lobby like a caged animal. She'd changed out of that tragic dress into jeans and a sweater that did absolutely nothing to hide the curves beneath. Though she still looked out of place. Her head snapped up when she heard me approach.

“You're late,” she accused, arms crossing over her chest.

I smirked, loosening my tie. “I own the building. I'm never late, everyone else is simply early.”

She rolled her eyes. “Spare me the billionaire platitudes. Why am I here? I could have just signed the papers at the hall.”

I led her toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. “Because despite your terrible spy skills, you're the first reporter in years who's looked at me like I'm the villain instead of an ATM.”

Lexi snorted. “Don't flatter yourself. I look at all billionaires that way.”

“Which is exactly why you're perfect.” I smiled. “Let's skip the foreplay,” I said, leading her to the elevator. “You think I'm hiding something. And I think you're desperate enough to take stupid risks.” The doors slid shut. “Prove me wrong.”  

Lexi's eyes narrowed. “I don't…”  

The elevator jolted. The lights flickered. Then everything went dark.

Lexi's gasp was swallowed by the hum of dead machinery. Her fingers brushed my arm in the darkness.  

“Relax,” I murmured. “This happens all the time.”  

“Bullshit,” she hissed. “This thing probably costs more than my apartment.”

I could practically hear her mind racing. Good.

There was silence for a while, then she spoke. “Did you... engineer this?” Her voice dripped with disbelief.  

I didn't answer. The emergency lights flickered on, casting her furious face in ghostly blue.  

“You're insane,” she breathed.  

I stepped closer, caging her against the wall. “And you're still here.” 

Her pulse fluttered at her throat. She wasn't afraid.

The elevator jolted back to life, and the doors opened.

Lexi stormed into my living room like a hurricane. “What the hell was that?”

“A test.” I poured two whiskeys, sliding one across the bar. “And you passed.”

She ignored the glass. “I don't play games, Mr. Cross.”

“Everyone plays games.” I took a slow sip. “Yours is pretending you're not curious about why a man worth more than 100 billion dollars would care about a broke tabloid reporter.”  

Her jaw tightened. I got her.  

I circled her like a shark. “Your boss pays you in pennies. Your father's debts are choking you. And despite that sharp tongue, you're good at this.” I stopped inches away. “So here's the deal, real access to my world. My real story. But you play by my rules.”  

Lexi's laugh was brittle. “Rules like randomly trapped elevators?”

“Rules like trust.” I tapped the contract on the table. “Sign it, and I'll show you what no other journalist has seen.”

She hesitated. I saw the war in her eyes, pride versus need.

Finally, she grabbed the pen. “If this is some rich boy mindfuck…”  

I caught her wrist. “Oh, it is.” My thumb brushed her racing pulse. “But you'll love every second of it.” 

Her breath hitched. The pen hovered over the paper. 

Her hand trembled slightly as she pushed the paper back across my desk, those fiery brown eyes burning with equal parts defiance and desperation. The overhead lights caught the gold flecks in her irises, making them glow like embers.  

“Happy?” She snapped, crossing her arms over that ridiculous sweater.  

“Ecstatic.” I slid the signed contract into my desk drawer. “Gregory will show you to your new office tomorrow. Nine AM sharp.”

Lexi scoffed. “What, no celebratory drink? No 'welcome to the team' speech?”  

I leaned back in my chair, studying her. The way her pulse jumped at the base of her throat betrayed her braveness. “You don't want speeches. You want answers. You can't wait to find out the secret I'm hiding.”

She rolled her eyes. “Damn right I do.”

“This feels like a trap,” she muttered, glaring at me. The afternoon light caught the gold flecks in her brown eyes, making them glow like whiskey held up to firelights.  

I leaned back in my chair, steepling my fingers. “Of course it’s a trap. The question is…” I gestured to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, “...are you smart enough to spring it?”  

Her nostrils flared. God, she was beautiful when she was angry.  

“You're out of your mind, Mr. Cross.” She hissed. “I'm leaving.” She stood up to leave. She is angry.

I stood up, walking towards her, my gaze never leaving hers. “You're right. I am hiding something. But it's not what you think.”

“I don't care.” Sue shot back. 

Before I could reply, someone walked in.

Lexi’s face dropped.

“Giselle,” I called, disgust evident in my voice.

She eyed Lexi like she was trash, and that did not sit well with me. 

“Who is this slut, baby?” Giselle asked, advancing towards me.

“Baby? Wow.” Lexi smiled. 

I tightened my fist, holding off my anger. “If you take one more step, Giselle… I will end you.”

“Baby…” she whined, glaring at Lexi who was trying her best not to burst.

“I'm leaving, Mr. Cross, see you at Nine AM tomorrow .” Lexi walked out, hitting her shoulder against Giselle's.

I swallowed the urge to run after her.

“Your days are over, Giselle.” I threatened, slumping on the couch in frustration.

The hell is wrong with me?

Giselle stormed off.

Lexi 

I got home seething with rage, slamming my apartment door so hard that the neighbor’s dog started barking. “How dare he bring his girlfriend over like that?” I growled, kicking off my shoes with unnecessary violence.  

Mia looked up from the couch, a spoonful of my Ben & Jerry's frozen midway to her mouth. “Whoa. Someone pissed in your cereal?” 

“That arrogant, smug, infuriating…” I gritted.

“Ah.” Mia nodded sagely. “You met the billionaire again.” She licked the spoon clean. “Did he flash his abs or something? That usually gets you flustered.”  

I threw a couch pillow at her. “He flashed his fiancée! Right in the middle of…ugh!” I collapsed onto the couch, stealing the ice cream carton from her. “She called me a slut, Mia. To my face!”  

Mia's eyes lit up with unholy glee. “No. Freaking. Way.” She snatched her phone. “What's her name? I'm looking her up right now.”

“Giselle something… I don't care.” I hissed. “She's probably a model. Her skin was flawless.” I admitted.

Mia's fingers flew across her screen. Then she whistled. “Ohhh-kay. Giselle Laurent. French model. Net worth... Jesus. And…” She turned the phone to show me a paparazzi shot of Lucian and Giselle at some red carpet event, his arm around her waist. “They were engaged. Lucian called it off last year.”  

I shoved another spoonful of ice cream in my mouth. “Don't care.”  

“You so care.” Mia poked my cheek. “You're doing that thing where you pretend not to care, which means you super care.” 

“I care that I have to go back there tomorrow and pretend like today didn't happen!” I yelled. 

Mia tsked. “Why are you so worked up though? You like him?” She winked.

I pushed her head away. “Hell. No. You know I hate those  billionaires.”

“Hmm,” Mia nodded, not buying what I just said.

“Just go to your own house.” I said, pushing her away.

“Oh, come on. Can I spend the night?” She hugged me, pouting.

“No way!” I kicked her out.

The next morning, I walked into my office at The Daily Buzz. Frank cornered me the second I walked in. “Well? Where's my scoop on Cross?”  

I slumped into my chair, still exhausted from my mental replay of yesterday's disaster. “He has a girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. Whatever. Her name's Giselle.” 

Frank blinked. “That's your big reveal?” He threw his hands up. “The whole world knows about Giselle Laurent! They broke up last year!” 

My head shot up. “Hmm…they did?” I asked, pretending like I didn't know.

“Yeah, messy divorce settlement too.” Frank narrowed his eyes. “Are you telling me you got nothing after all that access?” 

I... didn't know why that information made my shoulders relax. Maybe because it meant Lucian wasn't currently entangled with Human Barbie. Not that it mattered.  

“I'm working on it,” I muttered, opening my laptop to avoid Frank's glare.

“Better get to work!” He walked out. 

Mia slid into the chair next to me, grinning. “Sooo... you're relieved he's single?”  

“I'm relieved I don't have to deal with his psycho ex again,” I said, clicking random keys.  

Mia just hummed, knowing better.  

I turned to her. “I actually don't care.” I voiced.

Mia smiled. “Hmm…”

“See, whatever.” I waved her off.

I debated not showing up at Lucian’s company. Really, I did. But rent wasn't going to pay itself.  

I stood outside Cross Tower, squinting up at the stupidly tall building that probably had golden toilets inside. My stomach growled like a hungry bear, because who has time for breakfast when you're selling your soul to a billionaire?  

“Morning, sunshine,” I muttered to myself, adjusting my cheap blazer. That's all I got. “Welcome to corporate hell.”  

The lobby was all marble and glass. A security guard eyed my scuffed boots like they'd personally offended him.  

“Lexi Carter,” I announced. “Here to see the devil himself.” 

The guard's eyebrow twitched. “Identification?”

I flashed my new employee badge, the one some poor intern had messengered to my apartment at 6 AM. The photo looked like a mugshot.  

The elevator ride to the 80th floor took approximately forever. I practiced my best ‘I'm not impressed’ face in the mirrored walls.  

Ding.  

The doors slid open to reveal...  

“Holy shit.” I muttered. 

The entire floor was one massive office. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed the entire city sprawled out below like Lucian's personal playground. And there he was, leaning against a stupidly expensive desk, looking like he'd stepped out of a GQ cover shoot.  

“Nine-0-three,” Lucian noted without looking up from his phone. “I was beginning to think you'd chickened out.”  

I stomped in, dropping my bag on a chair that probably cost more than my life. “Traffic. Also, I stopped to rescue a kitten. Also, I hate you.” 

That got his attention. His lips quirked as he finally looked up. “Good to know where I stand.”  

Gregory appeared like a butler ghost. “Your schedule, sir. And... coffee for Miss Carter.” He set down a cup with a sneer.  

“Thanks.” I took a sip. Ugh. This is amazing. Damn it.”  

Lucian smirked. “Ethiopian Yirgacheffe. Single origin.”

“I hate that I like it.” I rolled my eyes. 

“Noted.” He stood, straightening his cuffs. “Tour time. Try to keep up.”    

My brows furrowed. “What? You want to take me on a tour yourself?” 

He turned to me. “Don’t pretend you don't like it?” He smirked.

I hate it when he smirks. 

I rolled my eyes. They are probably going to fall off if I keep rolling them. 

“Well… I don't. You can just tell your assistant to do that. I don't want your employees thinking…”

“Thinking what?” He interrupted, looking unfairly gorgeous in his navy blue suit. “They know better.”

I shot him a dead glare. “That's rude.”

“Can we just go, Lexi.” I pointed to the door. “I have meetings to attend.”

“I hate you.” I replied. 

I loved the way my name sounded on his lips though. No one can say it better. 

“I'm aware, Lexi.” He replied, stepping out.

I followed after him, trying to meet his pace.

People watched, and stared as we walked past. But no one dared to whisper or take pictures. That would be the end of them, maybe.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about the lady yesterday.” His face turned dark. “I don't know what Gregory was doing, letting that slut into my office.” 

Holy shit.

What could she have done to him?

Could that be the secret he’s hiding?

“It's okay, Mr. Cross, I don't care anyways.” I replied, my bag dangling in my hand.

“Good.” He replied, his expression unreadable.

Our first stop was the media room. A wall of screens showing every news channel globally. 

“This is where we monitor…”Lucian started.

“…how much the world worships you? Got it.” I replied, marveled. 

Lucian shot me a glare. “I just need to stay updated.”

Our next stop was The innovation lab. A tech playground that made my inner nerd drool. “Is that a hologram projector?” 

“Don't touch that,” Lucian caught my wrist. His fingers were warm. “It’s worth more than your life.”

I pulled my hands back. “I thought you were into entertainment only?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.

“Yeah,” he looked around and I could see how proud he was. “Not everyone knows about this. Entertainment is the main part, but I might venture into tech soon if my projects work out.”

I nodded, impressed. “Hmm,” 

“So…you're not writing about this yet.” He said.

“Of course, I'm not.” I scoffed. “There's nothing fun about tech.”

“Good. There are those who would kill me to have these.” He pointed.

“Oh…”

My phone buzzed with a message, interrupting me.

Lucian’s face landed on my screen. 

“Ethan Shaw?” His brows furrowed. “You know him?” He asked.

I didn't reply.

“Let's get out of here.” He ordered his expression grim.

Lucian  

The moment Lexi's phone lit up again with Ethan Shaw's name, my entire body went on high alert. I watched the color drain from her face as she quickly silenced the call, her fingers trembling slightly against the screen.  

“You know him,” I stated, steering her firmly toward the private elevator. My grip on her elbow was perhaps tighter than necessary, but the sudden appearance of that particular name in connection with Lexi Carter set off every alarm bell in my system.  

She yanked her arm free the second the elevator doors closed. “It's personal.” 

The way her chin jutted out in defiance would have been adorable if the situation weren't so dangerous.  

I studied her in the elevator's dim lighting. The rapid pulse at her throat, the way she unconsciously bit her lower lip. For a woman who claimed to hate me, she stood remarkably close to me in this confined space.  

The garage doors opened to reveal Marcus waiting with the town car. “Change of plans,” I told Lexi, guiding her toward it with a hand at the small of her back. She stiffened but didn't pull away this time. “My driver will take you home.” 

“What about the rest of the tour?” Those whiskey-colored eyes narrowed at me.

I resisted the urge to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “Rescheduled.” I replied, ss I handed her into the car, I made sure my voice dropped low enough that Marcus wouldn't hear. “I don't know your connection with Ethan, but be careful. I'm just a call away if you need me.”

I can't believe I said that. I felt really embarrassed. What am I? Her boyfriend?

She shook her head. “I don't need you, Mr. Cross.”

“Ouch,” I muttered.

Lexi didn't come to work until three days later. Not that she didn't want to come. I didn't call her. My face still burns in embarrassment whenever I remember my last statement to her. The hell.

Three days later, at the Children's Hospital Benefit.  I spotted Lexi across the crowded ballroom, looking stunning in an emerald green gown my assistant had discreetly arranged for her. If she knew the dress was from me, she wouldn't wear it. 

I had my assistant call her the night before to inform her I would be needing her to cover a story.

She held her camera and notepad tightly, but her book has been empty since three hours ago. I am sure she was expecting something shady and bad.

“Enjoying the champagne or just the view?” I murmured, appearing at her elbow.  

She startled, nearly dropping her glass. “Do you have to materialize out of thin air like some sort of overgrown bat?”

I plucked the champagne from her fingers and took a sip, watching her eyes track the movement of my lips. “I prefer to think of it as making an entrance.”  

Lexi rolled her eyes but didn't protest when I guided her toward the silent auction tables. “Why are we really here, Mr. Cross?” Her voice was laced with frustration. “This doesn't seem like your scene.”  

“You'd be surprised.” I nodded toward a group of children in remission being escorted by nurses. “The hospital's oncology wing is my pet project.” 

Her skeptical expression softened just slightly. “You fund pediatric cancer research?”

“Among other things.” I steered her past a display showing the new neonatal unit my foundation had built. “But please, don't let that ruin your image of me as a heartless capitalist.”  

For the first time since we met, I saw genuine confusion flicker across her face.  

Later That Evening we arrived at The Bronx Foster Home.  

Lexi stood frozen in the doorway as I handed out winter coats to a group of wide-eyed children. Who were excited to see me.

“You... you know this place?” She asked, her gaze fixed on me.

“Intimately.” I crouched to help a small boy zip his new jacket. “My father and I have visited here since I was nine before he died. He told me it was a family tradition and I must continue.”

I watched the realization dawn in her eyes.

“You're staring, Miss Carter.” I teased.

She blinked rapidly. “I just... you never mentioned…” 

“Because it's not for publicity.” I straightened, brushing invisible lint from my suit sleeves. “Contrary to popular belief, not everything I do is for show.” 

Lexi opened her mouth, then closed it again when one of the teenage girls approached shyly.  

“Mr. Lucian?” The girl held out a handmade card. “We made this for you.”

As I accepted the card, I didn't miss how Lexi's fingers twitched toward it, her reporter's curiosity clearly warring with something softer.  

“Thank you, Maria.” I tucked the card into my inner pocket without looking at it. Some moments were too private even for prying journalists.  

The ride back to Atherton was quiet, Lexi stared out of the window with an unreadable expression. When the car pulled up outside her apartment, she finally turned to me.  

“Why did you really bring me today?” She asked, her serious expression told me she wanted to hear the truth.

I considered lying to her. Considered deflecting with a joke about her article. But instead, I told her the truth.  

“Because I wanted you to see me.”  

She was stunned. Shock written all over her face.

“What?!” 

“Yes, I wanted you to see me.” I smiled, looking around. “This is who I am, not some heartless billionaire who fucks celebrities.”

For a moment I knew she didn't want to believe me.

I won't force it.

Wait, but why do I care what she thinks of me?

I never cared what people thought of me. But somehow, deep down, I want Lexi to know me for who I really am. Not some fucked up billionaire.

“I will leave now, thanks for the ride.” She said, turning to her apartment.

“Oh…alright.” I entered the car and it zoomed off.

“Is everything okay, sir.” Gregory asked from the driver's seat.

I decided against lying. Everything is not okay.

“I need to see a therapist, Greg. Immediately.”

“Okay sir. I’ll arrange for that.” 

He dialed a number and chatted for a while.

“She’ll be glad to see you immediately sir.” Gregory replied.

I nodded. It's a she. Good. Because I might end up needing motherly advice.

Few minutes later, we pulled up in front of a massive building. 

Greg took care of all the necessities.

“This way sir.” A female receptionist replied, leading us to a large office.

A slender, silver-haired woman sat on a white sofa. Late sixties I presume.

“Come on in, my dear.” She welcomed, offering me a seat. The chair was a comfortable leather chair.

“Will be outside sir.” Greg excused.

I nodded, waving him out.

“Spill.” The woman ordered, and as if on cue, I narrated my concern to her. From how I met Lexi. To how I act strange whenever she's around. And sometimes say ridiculous things like, “call me when you need me.” What kind of boss says that?!

The woman nodded, scribbling in her notebook as I confessed. When I finished, the woman set down her pen with a knowing smile. I nodded, my gaze fixed on her, expecting some explanation.

“My dear, what you're describing are classic symptoms of limerence.”

I stiffened in the leather chair. “Limerence?”

“That overwhelming romantic infatuation,” she explained, adjusting her glasses. “The physical reactions. The irrational need to both impress and provoke her.” She tapped her notebook. “You're not acting strange, Mr. Cross. You're falling in love.”

The pen I'd been fidgeting with snapped in my hands. “Ehn!”