House Of Memories [CEO!Luke]

Chapter 1

Luke turned to face you. An angry look twisted his face, but you kept the grin on your lips, taking a sip of your wine from the glass you held in your hand.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Luke gritted, his eyes burning.

"It's Christmas, honey" tilting your head to the side, you spoke. "A family holiday."

"You are not my fucking family –"

"You're not wearing your wedding ring," you observed, a slight grin still stretching your lips.

"That's because I don't have a wife," pushing past you and walking into the kitchen, Luke gritted. His nostrils were flaring in annoyance and his eyebrows were furrowed just a little bit, the way you always thought made him look like his father.

"Then how come I still haven't received a signed copy of our divorce papers?" You questioned him a little louder, as Luke opened a cold beer and took a large gulp.

Putting your glass on the counter, you walked around it and towards Luke, who had his eyes fixed on you, his hand placed on his hip.

"You don't need to put that serious demeanour on in front of me," whispering, you took his hand off his hip and let it fall freely by his side. Somehow, that devilish grin never left your lips. "I know you're just a weak little baby," flashing him a smile, you poked his nose.

Luke lifted his hand to smack yours away, although a little too late as you had already withdrawn it. The humiliation of your action washed over his chest, "You're such a fucking bitch," he mumbled.

Grinning, you shook your head slightly. "Now is that a proper way to welcome your wife?"

"I do not want you here. Nor will I welcome you back into this house–"

"You know, as long as you keep those papers unsigned, this house is mine, too," this time, the words came out in a much more serious tone, even though the small smirk kept its place.

"What are you really doing here?" Luke walked to the kitchen isle you were sat by. His palms landed on the cold surface, as he leaned closer to inspect you.

"I told you, baby," with a whisper, you leaned closer to him too, hooking your finger around his tie to bring him even closer. Both of your eyes instinctively fell towards each others' lips, your faces so close that Luke could almost smell your watermelon lip balm. "It's Christmas."

For a second, there was dead silence that took over the house and you could almost feel Luke's lips land on yours, when he suddenly stood up straight, "Don't even think about seeing my family."

He walked towards the living room, "Spill it, baby. What are here for?" He shouted out to you, as he settled on the sofa.

Smirking, you took your wine glass and followed Luke. He draped his arms on the back of the sofa, while simultaneously lifting his feet up to rest on a small coffee table in front.

You knocked his feet off the table, "I see you're still into your old disgusting habits," you commented, while sitting down on the same spot his feet just were placed.

"And you're not here anymore to tell me what to do," now it was Luke's turn to flash you a fake smile, as he put his feet back on the coffee table.

"So what happened? Did you run out of money and suddenly remembered you have a husband?" Childishly, Luke kocked his head to one side, eyeing you with a grin.

A scoff burst through your lips, "Baby, I have more money than your company's worth."

Luke snorted at your words, letting out a fake laugh, "In your dreams, baby."

"I'm getting married," you blurted out, cutting Luke off mid-laugh.

That was it. The weight has been lifted off your shoulders and you were freed from the burden you've been carrying around for months. This was it. Luke knew.

His face changed immediately. It almost seemed like all colour drained from it, as his feet suddenly found a place on the ground, his whole upper body leaning in, "You what now?"

"I'm getting married," you repeated in a hushed tone.

You could physically feel the tension growing in the room. Luke simply stared at you for a short while, looking for something. Something that would prove that you're lying, something that would tell him that you're joking.

But your face remained blank of emotion, although your fingers abandoned the wine glass on the coffee table.

"But how– How can that be? Our divorce isn't even finalised yet!" Suddenly, Luke jumped up from the sofa to stomp around. He could never sit still when he was nervous. His fingers slid past his hair, coming down to cover his mouth in shock, as he turned around to look at you again.

"I know, that's why I'm here. To ask you to finally sign the papers," you spoke slowly, being very aware of Luke's angered state.

Somehow you felt guilty now. Saying this, asking him to finalise your divorce. It felt foreign to you - even though divorce was constantly on your mind - it felt foreign saying it out loud, talking about it. Especially, to Luke's face.

"How could you have already found someone?! It hasn't even been a year since we –"

"I know, but I love him, Luke. Nothing you say will change that. So, please, calm down. I love him and I want to marry him," you finally stood up.

"This is unbeliev–" he'd just started stomping around again, when he suddenly stepped to stand right in front of you. "Are you pregnant?" his breath was hot on your face, but you stayed silent.

You knew that nothing will help calm Luke down in that moment, so you stayed silent, just looking him in the eye.

"Answer me!" Luke roared, making you flinch from the sudden sound.

"Fuck, Luke, no! No, I'm not pregnant,"you replied, taking a step away from him. "I'm not that stupid."

"I don't believe this," Luke huffed, his hand coming up to his hair again. "I don't believe this," he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. "How could you – Who is he? Do I know him? How the fuck did you find him so fucking fast?! I'm still your husband, how could you found a new one so fast!" You could almost see the veins popping out on Luke's neck, as his anger grew by the second.

"That's besides the point, Luke. All I need from you is to sign the papers and I'm gone."

"No. No fucking way am I signing them. I am not letting you go. You hear me? No way," he said it right to your face. So close that you could smell the beer on his breath and that woman's perfume on his skin.

So close that he could not help but kiss you.