Page 15 of For the Love of Layla

“Sir, you have a booked day.” She says lightly, smiling as sun shiny as ever as I move away from her. After a year of being my assistant, she hasn’t figured out I detest being touched. Especially after my Layla. Her hands should be the last ones on my skin.

“Clear it.” I order, blinking away the visual of her snapped wrist. She just nods, getting to work doing just that.

The other members filter out, creating an annoyed cluster at the door, “Mr. Monet, a moment.” A smirk bleeds out onto my face as his fists clench around his briefcase. I wait, just staring at him in silence as he shifts uncomfortably. Brandon is the last to leave as he shakes his head. He’s known me most of my life. Therefore, he knows better than most how right I was that day, when I admitted to him how I felt inside. I’m not normal, quite the opposite, really.

“The next time you feel the need to bring my personal life or my fiancée-”

God,I love the way that sounds.

“Up in business, I will happily forget the favor I promised my mother. Do not forget that your employment here was an act of charity on my behalf.” His face turns an amusing shade of red as he nods, exiting the boardroom. My heartbeat races, knowing I’ll get to see her soon. Speak to her as myself for the first time in months. “Penelope, I’ll be having lunch in the city.” She nods, pulling back out her phone to make the reservation, her very intact wrist taunting me as I head towards my office, humming to myself. The lyrics of our song playing through my head.

I know you belong

To somebody

Somebody new.

But tonight.

You belong to me.

Layla

I groan, stretching my back in my cramped cubicle, my spine absolutely screaming from passing out on the couch last night. Plus, I overslept, skipped breakfast and had to sprint around my house to get ready on time. I was still late, but that’s beside the point.

“If you groan like that again, I will riot. Get a cup of coffee and take a Xanax or something.” Ryan complains from the next cubicle over.

I did take one.

“It’s hardly my fault you left your air pods in your car.” I retort as I push out of my seat, rolling my stiff wrists. I hear the wheels of his chair squeak as he pushes past the divider to glare at me. “It’s exactly your fault that you wouldn’t let me borrow yours.”

“Or you could just walk out to your car and get yours.”

“It’s raining.”

“You’ll live.”

“Crusty bitch.” He mumbles as he rolls back to his desk. I stand smiling to myself. When I turn, I damn near slam into the mail guy in the process, “Oh God, I’m sorry.”

The older man smiles sheepishly, heat rising to his already flushed cheeks. I give him a kind smile back as he digs around his mail bag, “This was found in the lobby today, it was addressed to you. Suppose it was dropped on the way to the mail room.”

“Thanks.” I take the light manila envelope, turning it over in my hands. No return address, no stamp. Nothing.

Someone had to have dropped it off here.

Not entirely uncommon since I write about the shady side of your favorite influencers, particularly their wide ranging and more often than not off kilter ideals. Probably a personal assistant or best friend breaking an NDA to jump on the tea train. I toss it back on my desk as I head towards the break room in search of coffee. Just as I hit the archway, the elevator door dings, pulling my attention. I peek out, gasping when my eyes land onhim.I jerk, launching myself into the break room, slamming into Oliva as we knock against the counter.

“What the fuck, Layla?”

I frown, shushing her loudly, “Sorry.” She glares back at me, peeking out of the hallway. Her face contorts into a bitchy smirk as her blue eyes land on Liam.

“Don’t, please.” I beg her, knowing it’s of no use. Oliva has hated me since I started. Always taking Mr. Danvers’ attention from her, her position of class pet. Although I’ve never understood why she liked him, he treated us all like shit. She throws her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder before strutting out into the hallway. I can’t help the twinge of jealousy that blooms in my gut.

Stop.

“Oh hello, Mr. Curran. It’s so nice to see you again. I had no idea you’d be stopping by.”

His voice warms me as it slips down my spine, forcing my skin to break out in goosebumps, “I wasn’t aware I needed to announce it each time I felt like leaving my office.” I smirk to myself as I pour a cup of coffee into my lucky Friday the 13thcup.

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