Page 30 of For the Love of Layla

I let out a long breath as I hit send. I’ve definitely crossed a line but then again if Liam is the one that’s been stalking me, if he’s the one sending bolts of electricity coursing through my veins as they watch from the darkened wood line outside my home then I don’t care. If it’s not him, well I’ll wear my new crazy ex badge with honor.

I could quit Blinked, I could sell this house, leave San Francisco. Go out and try to be a real fucking journalist, like I dreamed of when I was a kid. Blinked was never my end game. I just got… comfortable. Liam always saw that in me, held me accountable for my complacency. He pushed me to be better, to do what I wanted, and I insisted I was. So scared of being too vulnerable, looking childish in front of the successful, wildly wealthy man that had it all.

I never knew…I had no clue the trauma that hid beneath his controlled exterior.

If I left,hewould follow me, of that I’m sure. I’m done settling. He is a chapter of my life I need to close before I can change anything, get a fresh start away from the pain and bullshit. I could be anyone I wanted. Not Layla Burke, daddy issue extraordinaire. Not this anxiety riddled shell of a person I’ve become. Of course, logically I know moving won’t change that, but maybe, just maybe, it might give me a fucking chance. I make it a point to not look at the woods as I stand calling Peaches in after me. Even as I reach for the doorknob with shaking hands, I don’t glance at the reflection that lies on the cold glass. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me struggle when I can bear it. I’ve barely shut the door when my Alexa dot comes to life blaringthatsong. The melody jars and assaults my permanently frayed nerves as I stare outside the kitchen window, looking straight at him. His tall figure at the edge of the yard unmoving as my heart races in my chest.

“I know

you belong

To somebody

Somebody new

But tonight

You belong

to me.”

The ringing of my phone is nearly drowned out by the music rattling the windows of my house. I know better than to not answer. Not after I’ve ignored him for days, not while he’s here staring at me. I don’t take my eyes off him as I raise the phone to my ear. He does the same, mirroring my movements in perfect synchronization. I thought seeing him out here in the middle of the day would make him feel morehuman.It doesn’t.

“I left you a gift. Upstairs on our bed.” His deep accented voice sends chills down my spine and heat towards my core. The adrenaline I feel overriding my need for self-preservation. “It’s my bed, not ours.” I whisper so softly beneath the music anyone else would’ve missed it. I listen to him softly hum along to the haunting song he chose for us. His voice is so much more familiar when he hums. The moment I cross the threshold of my bedroom, my heart stops, “I thought I’d dress you in red for that little gala you’ll be attending. I can’t wait to see you in it.”

“I’m not wearing that.” I run my fingers along the silky fabric of the crimson floor-length gown draped across my bed. My eyes sliding from the garment to the beautiful, embroidered lingerie that lies beside it.

“You will. Turn around.”

I don’t want to. Please God, I don’t want to.

A pained whimper leaves my throat as I turn peering into my bathroom. My feet move without my permission. Dozens of pictures of Ava line my bathroom walls, at work, at her penthouse apartment, with men and women. Pictures that are intimate, when she’s unaware, from her phone.

“I swear to God if you hurt her.”

He laughs, that sickening laugh that forces bile to my throat, “I haven’t…yet although it would fill me with no small amount of pleasure to take someone that makes me fight for your affections.”

“You’re fucking crazy.” I whisper as I sit the phone down on speaker, jerking the photos of my best friend from the walls. I did this. I put her in danger.

“Crazy about you, lítla ást.”

I hate you. I fucking hate you.

Tears burn my eyes as I rip the last picture from the wall, my breathing betraying my panic through the phone. With each pant my emotions whip into a tailspin. When he speaks, I hear the concern in his voice, “Calm down, Layla, you’ll have a panic attack. You haven’t filled your prescription in a while.”

I feel exposed. Like the floodlights have been turned on and pointed directly at me, nothing is private or sacred. Nothing is off bounds to him.

“Baby, I won’t hurt her as long as you play nice. You should know by now that I don’t take disobedience lightly. You’re mine, Layla. Mine. I will rip apart anyone or anything that comes between us. I don’t care if it hurts, I’ll hold you while you work through it. We’ll do it together.”

Tears run down my face as I walk to the window of my bedroom, staring down at him, “What do you want me to do?”

“Let me in.”

I shake my head, dread pooling in my stomach along with something else…something so incredibly fucked. “You don’t need me to get in.”

“That’s not the point. Put on the lingerie I bought for you and open the back door. Do it now.”

I can feel my monster’s eyes on me as I walk from the window slipping out of my t-shirt and sweatpants. The black see through bra and panties are embroidered with dark rich colored flowers and intricate designs, matching the garter belt and black sheer stockings.

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