House Of Memories [CEO!Luke]

Chapter 9

It took him about an hour of incessant calling to get you to block his number on your phone. And then another hour for him to decide on going on a search trip for you, determination of speaking to you face to face was fuelling him more than ever. And it took him yet another two hours before the knock on your hotel room door startled you from your bed and made you groan at the sight of a dishevelled businessman you used to call your husband.

"Mrs Simpson," Luke tried to chuckle, but it came out as a mere exhale, his heart beating out of his chest at the sight of you. You took a good look, noticing that his eyes were tired and his shoulders were slightly slumped in defeat.

"I didn't know you have a new fake name?" He tried joking, but your unamused expression and a quick go at closing the door, wiped the smile off his face immediately.

"Wait, wait, wait," he grabbed the door, slightly forcing himself inside. "I'm here to talk, please. Just talking. No more stupid jokes, I promise," Luke held his hands up in surrender, as if trying to signal you he came in peace. Little did he know, you were already at war with him in your mind.

You didn't pay him a second glance, moving inside the room and allowing him a chance to fully step in. He watched as you went to get a business card off a coffee table and swiftly come back, handing it to him, when the doors had barely clicked closed behind him.

"You're not talking to me," you'd simply state, your eyes determined and your voice emotionless.

Luke wouldn't even glance at the extended card before him, his hard eyes fixed on yours. "Y/N, let's just—" he sighed, his thoughts running too quick for him to speak coherently. "You have to believe I have nothing to do with this—"

"You're not talking to me," you repeated your words through gritted teeth, moving the card closer for Luke to take.

"Babe, come on. You know I wouldn't do this—"

"I said," you'd interrupt him, your voice stern and demanding, "you're not talking to me." You moved your hand again, finally getting Luke to glance down at the card clasped in between your dark painted fingers. "You're talking to my lawyer," you finally finished, fingers unclasping, as Luke stared at the card he now held in his hand.

Your words felt like a bolt of lightning, shocking Luke's whole system. He knew you'd fight his mother with all means necessary – that used to be one of the most endearing features for Luke, the way you'd never stand down and fight for what you believe in – but he never realised that the same lawyer was for him, too. To keep him away from this; to keep him away from you.

"What—" Luke's eyes were back on yours in no time and you swore you saw flashes of hurt swim in them. But maybe it was just your wishful thinking. "Don't tell me you got a lawyer— I'm not the enemy here, Y/N."

"Leave," you tried to stop the conversation before it got too deep and too hard for your fragile state. Your words were quick and simple, yet they cut so deep, that Luke almost flinched.

"This is all her, Y/N. I didn't even know—" You could hear the panic rise in his voice, and you saw his eyes turn slightly frantic, his mind grasping at straws.

"Leave," your tone sounded much more demanding this time, almost tricking you to believe the statement yourself. You saw Luke's shoulders tense and his Adam's apple bop as he swallowed hard, trying to win some time; hoping that an extra second of him being there will make you give in.

It didn't.

So he took a step towards you, not caring about disturbing you in your own hotel room at such a late time; or even invading your personal space at the same time, for that matter. Much to his dismay, you instantly took a responsive step back, crossing your arms over your chest to have at least the smallest of barriers between you and him.