House Of Memories [CEO!Luke]

Chapter 7

When Luke got home that night, he wasn't sure what he was expecting. On a rational level, he realised that he should be angry with you. His company was being threatened and it was your fault. The hard work he'd put in the past few years into building the company to what it is now was on the edge of becoming obsolete. The long hours he'd put into it – the long hours that would always get you angry with him, but you'd still say you understand – were slowly turning into a wasted time. On a rational level, he knew it was your fault all of that was happening.

But he couldn't help the small whisper in the back of his mind, the small flicker of hope that maybe you weren't at fault. That maybe you didn't actually make an effort to ruin his company. Maybe – and this was a big maybe for him – his mother did in fact set you up.

Luke shook the thought out of his head, attempting to bring his rationality back to the forefront of his emotional mind. He unlocked the door and let out a heavy sigh, when his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the house. I guess you did leave.

But while his rational mind felt relieved that he won't have to deal with you tonight anymore, his chest fell a little bit at the emptiness of the big house. He always thought home felt empty without you.

Biting his lip, Luke made his way upstairs, trying his best not to imagine what it would be like to come back home to you again. But as his foot settled on the very top stair, his eyes focused on a thin line of light on the carpet, shining out of his bedroom.

He opened the door only to reveal the image of you silently working on your laptop. Your bare legs reflected the dimmed lights of the bedroom, immediately attracting his attention for a quick second. Your hair was no longer in a neat hairdo and your body was merely covered with a pyjama you always considered as the only appropriate work attire at home. He noticed your concentrated face and your earphones, yet he still spoke without giving it another thought.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

The words just fell out of his mouth. Suddenly the hard slamming of his heart in his chest did not seem to dictate his feelings. His mind went completely blank of any emotion and thought he'd build up since the time he last saw you earlier that day. All he felt was undeniable shock and a sudden surge of anger that made his jaw clench and his nostrils flare with loud exhales.

You jumped slightly at his suddenly announced presence, tearing the earphones out, as you glared at him. "Do you not know how to fucking knock?" You mumbled.

"This is my fucking bedroom. I walk in whenever and however I goddamn want," he shot back, throwing his laptop case on a desk and slipping his suit jacket off. "Now, I believe I asked what the fuck are you still doing here?" Luke's eyes glared at you, as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt. He looked so exhausted and sick of fighting, and, frankly, so were you. But you'll be damned if you'd ever let someone win over you.

So you stood up, facing him and mimicking his determined stance. "Last time I checked, this was my house, too."

"Last time I checked, you divorced me," he shot back immediately. "And jeopardised my business." He added with a sarcastic smirk on his lips as he glared at you form over the room.

Your stance slumped slightly at his words. You felt helpless and you felt defeated – why can't he just believe you? How many times will you have to swear to him that every single word you spoke hold definite truth? How will you ever make him turn on his own mother?

"I told you, I didn't do it—"

Luke scoffed, "Oh yeah, I remember that beautiful story about my mother fucking our marriage up." Sarcastically, e smacked his hand together into a clap. "Truly, a wonderful story. I'll remember it for quite some time. But that still doesn't answer my question of why the fuck are you still in my house?"