But that was nearly two months ago and now...
Entrenched. And in a place from which an exit had to be made. Accustomed as he was to making the most of a bad situation, Lucas decided that this was something from which a positive could be drawn. Perhaps it had been foolish to imagine that he could take Milly to Spain and, in the space of a mere week or two, manage to convince his very astute mother that their brief romance was drawing to its sad but inevitable close.
Wasn’t it better this way? The relationship had lasted long enough for its demise to be more credible. They had got to know one another and unfortunately familiarity had bred contempt. His mother would not have witnessed the decline in their relations. It would be easy to report back that they were no longer an item. Disappointment all round, but that was life.
He prowled restlessly through his vast office. It was late. He was probably the last man standing in the office. Milly, now settled into her new apartment and her new job, was having an evening out with her new colleagues. A drink at some pub somewhere with a meal to follow.
What colleagues?
Lucas impatiently pushed away any line of pointless speculation. It was good that she was making lots of friends. So what if some of them were men? It was to be expected. She had smartened up her act when it came to her dress code. He had, she had told him more than once, given her confidence in the way she looked, in her body. She had had a ritual getting rid of most of her old clothes, which, much to his amusement, she had insisted in showing him piece by deplorable piece. He had never seen such a vast collection of shapeless items of clothing in one place in his life before. Then she had dragged him out shopping.
He gritted his teeth at the thought of some guy seeing her in some of the stuff they had bought together. The red dress with the plunging back; the tight black jeans; hell, some of the sexy underwear...
He only had himself to blame for the situation he now found himself in. He had known from the very beginning that she was vulnerable. He had known that she was the sort of romantic who got lost in house and garden magazines and gazed longingly into the windows of bridal shops. She had a strong nesting instinct and was a home-maker by nature. She had loved cooking for him and he, who had never allowed any woman the privilege of cosy home-cooked meals in his kitchens, had found himself trying out new recipes and working while she sat cross-legged next to him, watching rubbish on television.
Was it any wonder that she had fallen in love with him? Was it any wonder that she had risen to the futile challenge of trying to make him see that his teenage error of judgement was just a little something that ‘true love’ could overcome?
Before she had even told him, he had known. She wasn’t good when it came to hiding things. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and he had seen it in her eyes but had chosen to ignore it because he enjoyed her company and the sex was better than brilliant.
But he wasn’t going to marry her and just the thought of being the object of her love, just the memory of those hopeful, trusting, adoring eyes on him, filled him with a sense of claustrophobia.
Love was for fools. He had learnt that the tough way. She knew that and if she had chosen to ignore it, then, hell!
The long and short of it was that he had taken his eye off the ball...and now...
He made his mind up, grabbed his jacket and left the office before he had time for any weakness to seep in.
* * *
He, of course, had a key to the apartment. It was his, after all; why wouldn’t he? On a couple of occasions, he had left work early and headed straight there, letting himself in and working until she returned.