Page 48 of For the Love of Layla

I know better than most there is no limit to that woman’s depravity. Which paints a target on the back of my little love. Nobody is allowed to threaten her but me. Mother… ever delusional, taskedmewith taking care of what she dubbed thefiancé problem.Praying I’ll fix it before certain repulsive facts of her past come to light. I laugh, cracking my neck slightly as I rinse the blood from my hands staring at my fractured reflection.

I have every intention of taking care of it, mother.

I pick up my phone dialing the number of the personal investigator Layla conned into getting the information for her, a man I unfortunately know well. The whole family did. Being a Curran isn’t all bad, it certainly comes with some perks. Even the less savory kind.

“Mr. Curran, hello.”

I don’t bother with pleasantries, “Don’t destroy any files, I want you to deliver it to Miss. Burke, but wait for my word.”

He hesitates, I can hear the faint sound of him taking a long draw of a cigarette he’s smoking, “Uhm, Mr. Curran, the file has certain-”

“I know what the file says. As far as Grace Curran is concerned you burned it exactly as you were told to. Understood?”

“Your mother-”

“We both know what’s in the file. You’re a smart man. So you tell me, are you in any position to say no?”

My hand tightens around the phone, willing myself to keep a level head. I can’t go fucking shit up this late in the game. Not when she’s on the line.

“I’ll wait for your word.” I can hear the apprehension in his voice. He was never rich enough to make it to the husband status with my mother, but stuck around long enough to know our family keeps our word. The fact that I am associated at all with the bloodsucking cunt makes bile rise in my throat. I hang up the phone as I walk into my bedroom, collapsing on the cool sheets as I stare at the empty dog bed in the room’s corner. It takes very little to remind myself why I’m doing all of this. As if I could forget.

I’ll bring you home soon, both of you.

My eyes slide to the framed picture of Layla that sits beside my bed, my hand finding the crumbled fabric of her underwear I stripped when she was here. Pulling it close to me, her sweet scent lingers albeit faintly, mixed with the chamomile lotion she wears. She insists it helps with her anxiety, even though I’m pretty sure it’s more so the idea of it that helps.

I remember that day like it was yesterday, the day I took this picture of her sitting right where I’m laying now. The blue hue from the lights underneath my bed, splay across her gentle features, making her seem almost ethereal as she stares up at the camera. Smiling…at me.

The people I would kill for that smile.

A string of automated texts floods her phone as I glance at the clock. I hate the fact that I’ve come to expect no response. I hate that I’ve let her get away with that this past week. If it were up to me, I would’ve driven there days ago and taken her sweet cunt, reminded her how much she needs me, but I have a company to look after and a viper of a mother to contend with. My company is another thing I always had little interest in. It was my way out of the Curran silver spoon fed way of life. I built what I have, andtheyhave no claim to it. All the years spent before I knew my little love seem so frivolous now, slaving away in my office fixated on making myself rise so far above them they have to squint to see me. It feels like a distant dream. I close my eyes, inhaling her underwear gripped tightly in my bleeding fist as I slip into yet another night of restless sleep.

My eyes fly open, the lids still heavy from sleep as I jolt up in bed. Her underwear falling free from where they rested on my chest. The all-consuming aching void in my fucking heart pushes my feet from my bed as I walk to my bathroom. I don’t bother turning on the lights as I stare at the fractured bloody reflection of the man in the mirror. He looks like all the worst parts of me.

“Don’t do it, Liam.”

My warning doesn’t matter. I had already decided before I opened my eyes. I throw on a t-shirt, not changing from my sleep ruffled gray sweatpants as I jerk my keys from the counter. Pulling out my phone and calling in an overdue debt as I head out of the door. Just a little push, I tell myself, but it’s a weak excuse. I justneedher.

This is so fucking stupid. And I don’t care, not even a little.

The trees and lines turn to watercolor as the rain beats on the windshield. Everything is a blur, the past ten months of my life all cumulating in one stupid decision. One fucking thing I shouldn’t do. It could ruin everything. This isn’t part of the plan, but there’s no stopping me now.

She suspects me.

She’s not stupid and I don’t care. There’s one place I belong and my bones and soul ache. Fuck the games I’ve played trying to wiggle my way back to there.

Back to her.

The lights are on in the house when I jump out of my car. My legs don’t ask for permission before they carry me through the wind and rain. My hands don’t wait for my signal before they beat on the thick wooden door. I’m going to ruin it all. I have no backup story, no lie prepared to explain why I’m here. Only the fact that every molecule in my body vibrates with aneedto be where she is. My heart thumps loudly in my chest as her bright, timid eyes peek out from the window.

She’s still scared. After everything.

I clench my shaking fists as the locks on her front door unlatch one after another. Sealing our fate, memorializing my moment of weakness in concrete. Water drips from my hair onto my face as Layla swings the door open dressed in a white crop top and matching shorts she loved to wear to bed. A dark brown sweater hung lazily from her shoulders.

“Liam-”

Yes, say my name. It’s me, it’s been me.

I don’t let her finish as I cross the threshold, gripping her head tightly in my cool wet hands. She gasps, but only for a moment before she’s staring at me the way only she does.

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