Page 18 of For the Love of Layla

“I care about you, Layla, and I don’t give a fuck if you want to hear that or not. I will make sure you’re okay and you’ll put up with it or I’ll-” He cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. Biting down on my lip, his words catch me off guard, but not nearly as much as his voice. The raw malice in it. My sex throbs as my chest tightens. My mind waving the proverbial red flag while my body threatens to melt into him all together.

“Release. Your. Lip.” He grits out, his ocean blue eyes heated, boring into me as he pushes himself harder against my body. As if he’s trying to mold himself to me. I crack my lips, allowing my bottom one to spring free. My heart skips a beat when the ding of the elevator door fills the garage. I can hear people stepping out, but I can’t look away from him.

“Liam, people are watching.”

“I don’t fucking care.” His voice turns gravelly as he runs his lips gently along my jaw, forcing my head upwards. I exhale a shaky breath as his tongue dips out, teasing the flesh there. My skin no doubt salty from my tears.

“Hey, uhm, everything okay over here?” A man’s voice jolts me from Liam’s orbit. Liam let’s go begrudgingly turning only half of his attention to the man, “Yes. Leave.”

The guy takes a step back, making me frown, his eyes wary and nervous. He peeks around Liam and I give him a small smile and a nod. Which seems to be enough judging by how quickly he retreats. Liam wastes no time turning back to me as I quickly unlock my phone hitting call, desperate to remove myself from whatever ungodly thing just happened between us.

Liam stays like he said he would lingering close by as I speak to the police. He messes around on his phone even takes a call or two, but I know he’s listening. He’s always listening, laser focused on everything around him always. Especially me.

It never occurred to me how exhausting that must be for him.

The cops still aren’t taking me seriously, claiming they’ve already found the mantheybelieve to be responsible. An old homeless guy was found with his bank cards and money James was said to be carrying that night. He even had blood on him. I shake my head as Officer Daniels proceeds to explain to me all the reasons I’m not being harassed by a murderer. I basically have to force him to take pictures of the texts and calls on my phone. As the police walk away from me, I slip it back into my pocket, having accomplished less than nothing. Why would a homeless man that’s never met me and have no way of knowing me send my “date’s” ID with the name of that band scribbled on the back? What about the calls and texts? Why would I make that shit up?

It makes no sense.

If you ask Officer Daniels, he’ll tell you the band name was probably written by James since he liked music, because people normally draw random band names that just so happen to have significance to their dates on their government issued divers’ licenses.

Seems legit.

According to him, the old man probably heard us talking in the bar and decided to fuck with me. Despite the fact that I definitely would’ve noticed a crazy old homeless guy lurking around us. Not to mention I’m pretty sure they flat out think I’m lying about the calls and music. Liam pushes off the wall, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walks back towards me, his dark navy blue suit tailored expertly to his lean athletic muscles. “You should’ve called me, Layla. You must’ve been so scared.”

I scoff, “I should’ve called my irrational short-tempered ex to tell him I think someone is stalking me and that they killed the guy I was trying to hook up with? Yeah, that’s a brilliant idea.” I watch his jaw clench as if to prove my point.

“I need to get back to work.” I breathe out, a new sense of dread starting where the other ends. That’s what I am now. A walking, talking ball of anxiety and dread.

Fun. Fun for me.

“You need to go home and rest. I’ll have Penelope schedule my security company for an install. You’ve should’ve let me do that when I first offered.” The annoyed tone of his voice does a good job of reminding me where we stand. Not together. Being under his thumb or indebted to him seems like an awful idea.

“Like I can afford that. I don’t want anything to do with you or your security team. I’ll have a system installed myself.” I head back towards the elevator, not making it far before he grips my arm, tugging me back to him, “You know I don’t mind paying for it. You won’t owe me a thing. I want to keep you safe.”

My lip trembles, “No, thank you.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Layla.” His coppery eyebrows knit together, somehow making him even more handsome. His freckles and tossed hair make him look deceptively boyish, but he’s not. Liam Curran is all man.

Where was all of this when it mattered?

I tear my arms out of his grasp, his fingers leaving red indents in their wake. “Yes, it does.” I turn again, walking quicker as my chest aches.

Fuck you, Liam. Fuck. You.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing for me.” His voice takes on a hint of desperation and makes the dull ache in my chest grow until it’s a large gnawing wound.

The kind that could kill you.

I spin around, blinking the tears from my eyes, “Why does it fucking matter?” I nearly gasp when I meet his intense gaze. It feels like I’ve shrunk five feet. A loss I couldn’t afford since he already stands a solid head and half over me. How does he always do that? Make me feel so… helpless, so weak for him.

“You have no idea how much it fucking matters, Layla Burke.” I watch as he clenches his fists, his head lowered slightly. Another cold flicker in his eyes. This is the side of him that scares me and intrigues me more than I’d like to admit. The violent side that forced its way out the day everything went to shit. Revealing the monster that lurks beneath his skin. The reason I left. I keep my eyes on him as my phone rings, I’ve been gone for way too long. I’ll probably get hell for not letting anyone know I was even leaving. “I feel absolutely nothing for you, Liam Curran. I don’t think I ever really did.”

His eyes widen slightly, I can tell my words hurt him. Good. He hurt me. He scared me and tore my heart out of my fucking chest. I needed him to fight for me, to show me I had nothing to be afraid of and he just… stared. Like right now, his cruel gaze raises goosebumps to my flesh as my phone rings again.

I take a deep breath as I step into the elevator, hitting answer. His cold blue eyes meet mine as the doors slide closed.

“Hello?”

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