12 Love Skills

Gemma's POV.

I come home and immediately block that number. I have no energy left—no desire to eat, move, or do anything at all. All I want is to lie on the couch, turn on my computer, and watch a random movie. However, the movie has barely started when the doorbell suddenly rings, and my heart skips a beat.

Did he really find this place?

I quietly walk to the door, holding my breath as I look through the peephole. To my relief, it's not Dmitri standing outside, but Luke. I exhale and open the door.

"The hourly worker's cooking fish. Want to come over later?" he asks.

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry."

I start to close the door, but he props it open with one hand, giving me a closer look. "Are you in a bad mood? You look a little off."

Is it that obvious? Ever since I saw Dmitri, it feels like I've been dragged back to hell. But that's not something I can discuss with my current boyfriend, so I straighten up, "Of course I'm in a bad mood! Who made me stay up all night writing reports?"

"If it wasn't for me, your bonus would be docked right now," Luke says, stepping into my apartment.

"Oh, should I thank you then?" I retort, turning to see him already seated on my couch.

"You're welcome," he says with a smirk. "is there any water?"

I cross my arms. "Don't you have water at your place?"

I really just want to be alone right now.

"I do, but it's all still packed in boxes."

"So you're just too lazy to unpack?" I sigh deeply.

"You could say that."

With a cold smile, I walk to the fridge, grab a bottle of water, and hand it to him, hoping he'll leave soon.

But before I can say anything, his phone rings. It seems to be a call from his family, though I can't make out what's being said.

Luke only responds with "Yeah," "Okay," and "No problem," repeating the phrases in different combinations.

As I watch him on the phone, a mischievous idea suddenly pops into my head.

One second, two seconds, three seconds... As the second hand on the clock completes its circle, I abruptly pounce on Luke, settling myself on his lap.

He shoots me a warning glance, but I just shrug and lean in closer, gently blowing into his other ear.

He doesn't look at me, maintaining his posture, but I can see his ear turning visibly red.

Intrigued, I grow bolder and start unbuttoning his shirt, revealing the smooth, masculine chest beneath.

The sight begins to lift my spirits, which had been so low all day.

I continue to play with his body, my actions growing more daring.

"If you're smart, you'll get off me now," Luke whispers, pulling his phone slightly away from his ear.

"And if I don't?" I murmur, still focused on undoing the buttons, not even bothering to look up.

"Then... I think you'll regret it," Luke says, his voice softer, but laced with a dangerous edge.

I respond lightly, unaware of the looming consequences. "Is that so?"

I slide my hand inside his shirt.

And then, the moment he hangs up the phone, I feel the world spin. In an instant, our positions are reversed—Luke is now pinning me down.

Before I can ask, "What are you doing?" Luke tears open my nightgown. The fabric, decorated with a cute strawberry bear, splits in half, revealing my white lace underwear with a small bow in the center.

Without hesitation, Luke's lips press against my chest.

It doesn't stop there—our lower bodies are now pressed tightly together. Even through the fabric, I can feel the intense heat of his body against my softness.

I suddenly realize that my little game might have gone too far.

When you're truly held down by a man and can't escape, you start to understand the real difference in strength between men and women.

At this moment, with Luke's face hidden in the shadows, he radiates a dangerous aura.

My hands and feet start to grow cold.

Luke's eyes are just as cold, even though a fire of desire burns beneath them. "Don't tease me like this again," he warns, "because the consequences are beyond your control."

After saying this, Luke gets up, slowly buttoning his shirt one by one before leaving.

The door clicks open and then shuts with another click.

I lie on the couch, staring at the ceiling, feeling a chill on my chest where the fabric was torn.

The sky grows darker outside.

I sniff, pulling the torn fabric together to cover myself.

"Is dinner really more important than making love?" I mutter to myself. He could've continued.

I would've gladly let him.

I sniff again.

The next few days, I live on edge, constantly worried that Dmitri might find me again, while trying to focus on work, almost forgetting about the rumors of Luke sending flowers to another woman.

That is, until my friend brings it up again.

"I swear, he really bought flowers," Charlotte insists over the phone. "If I'm lying, may I gain three kilograms overnight."

"Did you sneak desserts again?" I shrug.

"Gemma, don't you trust me anymore?" Charlotte sounds hurt.

Ignoring her, I hold the phone between my ear and shoulder while picking up a banana from the fruit plate. "I believe you saw Luke buying flowers, but maybe they were for a family member or someone in the hospital. It's possible."

After all, Luke lives right next door. I can hear him coming home and going out. His life is so routine—he comes straight home after work and doesn't even go to bars.

Charlotte pauses. "Sure, let's say they were for family. But do you even know which family member?"

I stop peeling the banana and look up.

"Haven't you been dating for a while now? Has he introduced you to his friends or family?" Charlotte asks.

I put the banana back. "So what?"

"So, Luke Shaw hasn't really acknowledged you," she says bluntly, like a dull knife twisting in my heart.

I pull that dull knife out. "I haven't introduced him to my family or friends either. It's just the nature of our special relationship. Office romance is that."

Charlotte corrects me, "It's different for you."

"How is it different?" I ask.

"Anyone with eyes can see how much you care about Luke," she points out.

Her observation seems accurate. I fall silent, unable to argue. After a long pause, the wound from the dull knife starts bleeding slowly, and I weakly admit, "Maybe I'm just too infatuated with his looks."

"Gemma, you're really pathetic," Charlotte delivers another hard truth.

I collapse back onto the couch. "But every time I see Luke's face, I lose all sense of direction."

He makes my thoughts and logic completely chaotic.

"Gemma, you're in serious danger like this. One day, if he sells you off, you'll probably laugh and help him count the money."

"Do you have any advice?" I run a hand through my hair. I want Luke to care more about me. Not as much as I care about him, but just a little more, and I'd be thrilled.

"Romance is all about strategy and excitement," Charlotte says.

"Isn't that just in bed?" I joke.

"Don't change the subject." Charlotte pauses before continuing. "People don't usually value something that's entirely theirs. You need to create the impression that other men are interested in you. That'll make Luke feel threatened and pay more attention to you."

I think Charlotte has a point. But where am I supposed to find someone to pretend to chase me?

I grew up in California, and all my schoolmates are there. I lost contact with them over the years for various reasons.

My ex-boyfriend, who showed up out of nowhere, is a total nutcase.

At work, some customers show interest in me, but I sell luxury cars. Those customers are either spoiled brats who look down on everyone or old men who could be my father.

None of them are suitable.

As I ponder, a perfect candidate suddenly comes to mind.

During lunch, I head to the nearby chain coffee shop, looking for a guy with an eyebrow piercing.

He's not at the counter right now but is wiping down a table in the corner with a cloth.

I walk over, sit in the chair next to him, and glance at the name tag on his chest: Jacob.

The bad review dispute between Jacob and me ended that night when Luke showed up. Since then, he's continued working here, his face showing an increasing amount of what can only be described as the "bitterness of the working class."

Jacob gives me a blank stare before turning to leave.

"Hey," I call after him, "you missed a spot on the table."

He turns back, still expressionless, but obediently wipes the table again.

"There's more here," I point to a gap along the edge of the table.

He pinches the corner of the cloth and cleans the gap as well.

"And here," I say, shifting a chair to reveal a napkin that had been trapped underneath.

He bends down, picks up the napkin, and asks, "Anything else?"

His face remains impassive.

I smile. This poor boy seems to have been through quite a bit of hardship lately.

"Got your pay docked again?" I ask, unable to hide my amusement.

"Mm-hmm." He exhales through his nose, "Half my salary's gone."

The next moment, the store manager walks by, noticing us. Thinking Jacob is in trouble again, he clasps his hands together over his chest, looking at me politely but nervously, "Is there anything you need?"

I wave my hand dismissively. "An iced Americano, please."

The manager nods and heads to the counter, but not before giving Jacob a quick reminder, "Get back to work."

Jacob starts to go away, but I call out to him, watching his tall, handsome figure bathed in sunlight. "Hey, how about I help you make up the salary you owe?"