Page 41 of Grumpy Orc CEO

Lucy glances over her shoulder, her eyes softening for just a moment before hardening again. "Jarvin," she says softly. "Sometimes it's about knowing when to let go."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Let go? Is that what she's asking me to do? The thought alone makes my blood boil.

"Let go?" I repeat incredulously. "Is that really what you want?"

She turns fully to face me now, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and resolve. "I don't know what I want," she admits, her voice trembling. "But I know I can't stay here feeling like this."

My mind races, searching for some way to bridge the gap between us. The frustration of not knowing what's truly driving her decision gnaws at me. There has to be more to this than she's letting on.

"Lucy," I say slowly, carefully choosing my words. "If there's something you're not telling me... something more behind your decision, I can't help if I don't understand."

She bites her lip again and looks away, her silence speaking volumes.

The confusion and frustration swirl inside me like a tempest. How can I fight for something when I don't even know what the hell I'm fighting against?

The frustration is tight in my chest and my fists clench so tightly I can feel my nails digging into my palms. What the hell could have happened to make her run like this?

I watch Lucy walk away, her shoulders hunched as if she’s carrying the weight of the world. This isn’t just about her job; it’s something deeper, something I can’t see but can feel gnawing at the edges of our connection.

“Lucy, wait!” I call after her, but she doesn’t turn around. Her pace quickens, and she disappears around the corner. The echo of her footsteps fades, leaving me standing there, grappling with the frustration that’s clawing at my insides.

I rake a hand through my hair, trying to piece together what went wrong. My mind races, replaying our interactions over the past few weeks. Everything seemed fine—better than fine. We had our moments, our lunches, the subtle touches and stolen glances. What changed?

My office door looms ahead, a silent reminder of my responsibilities piling up inside. But right now, I couldn’t care less about contracts or meetings. My thoughts are consumed by Lucy and the sudden wall she’s thrown up between us.

I feel like a storm is brewing inside me—anger at not knowing what’s going on. My mind flashes back to that moment in the break room when she mentioned “distractions.” What did she mean by that?

Slamming my office door shut, I drop into my chair and stare blankly at the paperwork strewn across my desk. My eyes glaze over the reports and charts; none of it matters right now. The memory of Lucy’s pained expression haunts me.

Did I miss something? Was there a moment when I could have reached out to her but didn’t? I rack my brain for any signs or clues but come up empty.

I yank my phone out of my pocket and type a message to her: “Lucy, please talk to me. Let me help.” My finger hovers over the send button. For a second, doubt creeps in, but I push it aside and press send.

I lean back in my chair, frustration coursing through me like a wildfire. My mind races with worst-case scenarios. If she doesn’t respond... no, that’s not an option. I can’t afford to lose her, not now, not ever.

I need to figure this out before it’s too late, before the distance between us becomes insurmountable. Taking a deep breath, I refocus, trying to channel my anxiety into a plan. There must be something I can do, some way to reach her heart again.

CHAPTER 24

Lucy

Isit in my living room, staring at the box of personal items I brought home from my desk. The resignation letter has been submitted, and my decision feels final. The sense of regret and loss is overwhelming as I think about the job I had grown to love and the stability it provided.

My gaze falls on a framed photo of my family, now sitting awkwardly on top of the box. Their smiling faces seem to mock my current state of confusion and sadness. The stability I thought I had built feels like it's crumbling beneath me, replaced by an uncertain future. I hug my knees to my chest, trying to find comfort in the familiar surroundings of my apartment.

Jarvin’s words echo in my mind, sharp and unrelenting. He’s right. I am scared—scared of being hurt again, scared of trusting someone with my heart, and scared of the intense feelings I have for him. This realization hits me hard, filling me with a mix of fear and frustration at my own vulnerability.

I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the strands as if it might somehow pull the tangled thoughts out of my head. My past relationship left deep scars, and the thought of opening up to Jarvin only to be betrayed again is paralyzing. Yet, every time I remember his smile or the way his eyes lit up when we talked, a pang of longing shoots through me.

I close my eyes, trying to breathe through the turmoil inside me. Leaving Thraknar Financial Group wasn't just about running from Jarvin; it was about protecting myself. But now, sitting alone in my living room with nothing but memories and regrets for company, I question whether I've made a terrible mistake.

The walls I've built around myself have kept me safe but also isolated. Maybe Jarvin isn't like my ex; maybe he genuinely cares for me. But trusting him means risking everything once again. As much as it terrifies me, I can't deny that there's a part of me that wishes I'd given him a chance to explain instead of running away.

The nights drag on, sleepless and heavy. I toss and turn, the sheets tangling around me like my thoughts. I miss the work—the sense of purpose, the challenges that kept me sharp, and the colleagues who respected and valued me.

I glance at the clock and groan. Another night slipping away without rest. My mind replays scenes from the office: the camaraderie during lunch breaks, the satisfaction of completing a complex project, the pride in knowing I was part of something bigger than myself. The thought of leaving all that behind gnaws at me, a relentless ache in my chest.

And then there's Jarvin. His commanding presence, his smile, the way he looked at me with such intensity—it all haunts my waking hours and invades my dreams. Seeing him every day had become unbearable, but now, not seeing him feels equally wrong. It's as if I'm caught between two choices, each one pulling me apart.