chapter four | businessmen

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♛ L U C A N ♛

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L U C A N

Before long, Darius is pulling up to the entrance of Cacci Consolidated. Lucan slips his phone into his pocket and opens the car door. He knocks on the window that's dividing him and his driver. "Thanks, Dar."

The window lowers just as the twenty seven year old places a foot on the manicured sidewalk outside the car. Their eyes meet in the rear view mirror and Darius nods, inhaling sharply through his nostrils.

Something's bothering him.

Lucan's eyebrows pinch as he opens his mouth to speak. But before he can breathe a word, his friend is turning around in his seat. Darius's eyes are blank and cool. "You're going to be late, sir."

Sir?

The Italian swallows thickly. Darius has never called him sir in all the years that they've known each other. Was he angry with him?

Darius raises an eyebrow and stares. "You should get going. You know your father is going to be angry at your tardiness."

Lucan exhales, his heart thumping. "You're right. I'll see you at lunch, Darius."

His friend doesn't respond and turns in his seat. His sky colored irises follow the moving traffic ahead.

Lucan exits the car and shuts the door. Darius waits for a few seconds before speeding off. The twenty seven year old takes in a heavy breath and turns, ignoring the shameless paparazzi pretending to hide in the bushes as he walks into the building.

Employees scramble out of his path as he moves towards the elevators. A few brave ones mumble out greetings and good-mornings. Lucan nods and grunts in response, occasionally lifting a hand.

And like always, he finds himself in the elevator alone.

He still doesn't know if he likes it.

He still doesn't know if he likes it

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"Good morning, Mr. Cacciatore." His secretary moves her eyes from her computer screen to grin at him.

He slows his gait. "How many times will I have to tell you not to call me that, Peyton?"

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