Page 37 of For the Love of Layla

Fuck me.

I meet her dark brown eyes, her just as dark hair lined with silver strands is pulled up in a bun that looks so tight it’s pulling the skin around her forehead taunt, not that she needs it. She’s beautiful. Aged sure, but beautifully.

“I don’t think so. I’m Layla Burke. I write for Blinked Magazine.” I mutter, fighting the urge to glance behind me. Her eyes widen slightly before the snarky smirk takes back over her striking features, her eyes dipping to the lightening bruises littering my neck and chest.

God, this is humiliating.

There’s something unnervingly familiar about her smirk, like I’ve seen it thousands of times before. It deepens are she speaks, “Oh my, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’d like to say I’d heard so much about you but-”

“Layla, there you are.” Liam’s deep voice cuts her off, his arm slipping around my waist, pulling me towards him. I frown, wanting to snuggle in close to that familiar touch as badly as I want to shove him away. He leans in his lips brushing my ear, “Running from me?” His whisper makes my face break out in a blush so deep it could signal the space station and the woman eyes me like a cockroach trapped under her designer shoe. I feel small around them. Very small. Like I’m trapped between titans.

“Don’t be rude, Liam. I raised you better than that.” She scolds, making Liam’s arm around me tighten painfully.

Ohmyfuck.

“Right, this is Grace Curran, my mother. Mother meet Lay-”

“Yes, yes Layla Burke, your mysterious and evasive fiancée.” She interrupts disdain clear in her eyes, I can’t tell if it’s directed at him or me.

Wait, his what?

Liam clears his throat as I bite down on my cheek, trying to hide the stupid smile attempting to force its way onto my face. “I’m afraid I need to have a word with Layla alone. Next time you decide to make an appearance, some warning would be nice.” All the humor leaves me as I look up at Liam, taken aback by the loathsome tone of his voice.Grace scoffs, not bothering to respond as she turns sauntering back towards the bar.

“Sorry, I don’t see her much. It was just… easier not to tell her we broke up.” His freckled cheeks flush as he runs his hand through his tousled hair.

It’s not fair for one person to look like this.

“Right. I must’ve missed the part where we got engaged.” I muse as I glance over my shoulder at her, pulling from his hold.

“Wishful thinking, sue me.” He snaps, following my gaze.

Jesus Christ…

Liam shakes his head, “We don’t get along. Trust me, no contact is best when it comes to Grace fucking Curran. Steer clear of her, Layla.”

“She stared at me like I spit on the pope. I think it’s safe to say we won’t be doing each other’s nails anytime soon.” I snap back, already fucking annoyed. He’s always been like this. His utter refusal to speak in depth about his parents, vague warnings and orders with no context.

It’s fucking maddening.

I always just ignored it, figured it was old money drama that was none of my business.

It helped that you were usually too busy on his dick to care.

I exhale a shaky breath as I avert my eyes from his. That handsome stupid fucking smirk tells me I didn’t look away nearly fast enough. “Let me get you a drink to make up for it.” It’s not a question as he motions for a waitress. I frown at his red tie, the exact shade of my dress. Tension bleeds into my chest and I take an involuntary step back.

Remember why you’re here. Who he might be.

“Is the auction starting soon?” I ask casually as he takes two flutes of champagne from the waiter. Liam’s ever scrutinizing ocean blue eyes find mine as he hikes a thick coppery brow up, “Since when do you care about charity auctions? If I recall, last year you were bored out of your mind, picking at your nail polish underneath the table instead of listening.”

He knows I don’t have half as much money as it would take to even dream of participating tonight, and he knows I don’t care. Which means he thinks I’m here… for him. Which I am.

“It’s been months now, Liam, bold of you to assume you still know everything about me.” I bluff, hoping like hell he’ll drop it, that the divide between us will stay just as it is. I watch as his jaw clenches, giving me a curt nod.

Why do you even care, asshole?

The lights dim as the sound of someone tapping a microphone fills the room, requesting our attention at the stage. I want to look, but instead I’m locked in right here gazing into Liam’s intense eyes. He looks…angry.

“Happy bidding, Layla.” He mutters abruptly before heading back towards the stage where Brandon is waiting for him. All I can do is stand there gawking as he walks away.

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