He was acting his ass off right now, playing the role of a man who didn’t give a fuck that he was within touching distance of the only woman who’d ever broken his heart—and who could still make him feel the hollow ache of helpless need. Helpless was not the way he wanted to feel. He’d felt that enough as a kid, and once he was on his own he’d sworn he’d never feel helpless again. He’d make so much money that it would no longer be a possibility. Money was power, and he would never be without power again. His plan had been a success. The world was his oyster now, his childhood of struggle and poverty so far behind him it wasn’t even a blip in his rear view mirror. His past was past—with one exception. The woman who was walking beside him right now, scowling when other women popped up from their desks to gawk at him. “You’ve got to lay this shit to rest,” his oldest friend had told him. They’d been playing one-on-one basketball in the gym, and Luke had paused to sink a three-pointer before asking him what he meant.
