Page 41 of For the Love of Layla

I am definitely drunk.

“Stay with me at my house tonight. He won’t be able to hurt you there. I’ll always protect you, Layla, if you’ll let me. Please let me.” I pull back, looking into his pleading eyes as I nod. Although I mostly just don’t want to be alone.

“What about Peaches?”

He smiles, “I’ll have you home in the morning before she even wakes up. Promise.”

I know it’s irrational to worry about her. She’s perfectly fine. Plenty of food, water and toys. He gently lifts my head, “Do you want to go get her?” I give him a weak smile before nodding.

“I’ll just…meet you at your place after I grab her. I can take an Uber or something.” My own words fill me with dread as I take a step back. A step away from the safety he offers.

It’s not safe for him. It’s not safe for me.

“No fucking way in hell you’re leaving my side.” He growls and my heart skips a beat.

This can’t last. I’ll lean on him… but only for tonight. No matter how badly it hurts, I can’t put more people at risk.

He gently drapes his suit jacket over my shoulders, straightening my dress and my hair as he leads me out of his office, only now do I notice how drunk he is too. The slight slur to his words nearly matches mine. His usually perfect coordination is slightly off kilter. Nothing compared to the way I stumble in my heels. By the time we hit the elevator my mind is swimming. That didn’t stop me from snatching the bottle of absinthe from his desk and tucking it into his jacket. If my stalker is going to kill me tomorrow, I might as well enjoy my last night alive. I ignore Liam’s disapproving glare as I sneak a quick swig before the elevator doors open, the gala still in full swing. “Hey!” I protest as he removes the bottle from my hand, discarding it on a nearby table as he leads me out into the crowd. Unfazed by abandoning the no doubt ridiculously expensive liquor.

I’m drunk drunk.

“I need to let Brandon know he’s on his own for the rest of the night, then we’ll have my driver take us to your place. Okay?”

Fancy.

I nod, plopping down at a table. “I’ll wait here. I don’t think I can navigate right now.” I mumble, surprised by how much my words are slurring.

“I’ll carry you, you aren’t leaving my side.” He says before reaching for my arm to lift me. I snatch it away, “For fuck’s sake. Where could I possibly go? I’ll stay right here, I promise.”

He clenches his jaw, “Layla…”

“Liam…”

He groans, running his hand through his hair, “Stay right here. Do not leave or so help me-”

“Yeah, yeah, punishment games. I remember.” I say a little too loudly, making the people around us stare. My cheeks flush as I stare down at my hands, pretending they are the most interesting thing on the planet. He hesitates, I meanreallyhesitates before heading off in search of Brandon. He’s being weird even by Liam standards.

You’re also fucked up. Like fucked up.

I do my best to avoid scanning the room for a familiar pair of brown eyes, nearly jumping out of my seat as someone clears their throat beside me. My head spins as Grace Curran glares down at me, her thin arms crossed tightly around her chest.

“You seem to have enjoyed yourself, distracting my son from his obligations.” She sneers.

You have no idea.

I can’t stop the giggle that escapes from my mouth. “Liam is a grown man. He can make his own decisions. I didn’t distract him from anything.”

“You won’t be laughing when he tires of you, throwing you out just like all the others. Liam doesn’t get attached, darling. Especially to nosey girls with a lower… pedigree than his.” I frown, her condescending tone burning straight through me.

What the fuck is her problem? What fucking others?

I stand on wobbly legs trying to move around her before she grips my arm tightly, jerking me back towards her and making me stumble. “You think you know him, but you don’t. If I were you I’d count my lucky stars his attention is fleeting. Heaven knows I tried to correct the boy. Having that attention isn’t what you think it is.” Something in her eyes makes bile rise to my throat, I clench my fist, trying to convince myself all of the reasons why it’s not socially acceptable to punch your ex’s mom in the face. Number one being a toddler could probably beat me in a fist fight. Especially tonight.

My eyes widen as her hand gets wrenched from mine, Liam bending it back at the wrist in an awkward angle, “Never fucking touch her.” He warns, his voice sending chills down my spine.

That voice…

“Liam, let go.” I whisper, tugging on his sleeve lightly. He blinks a few times, still holding his mom’s wrist as she grits her teeth, looking too scared to move.

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