Page 43 of Devotion

Despite my stern tone, he flashes that cocky smirk again. “Whatever you say.”

His mouth warms my jaw when he kisses me there, and before he pulls away, Martinez’s stare lands right on me, taking in our body language, our closeness. I swear fire flickers in his eyes just before they turn dark and angry. Damien pulls away, once again following my gaze. Considering how territorial I’ve come to learn he can be, I’m not surprised to see a slow smile spread across his soft, full lips. It’s as if hewantsMartinez to read between the lines. Wants him to know there was much more to this interaction than this glimpse he’s just caught.

“Well, then. I suppose I’ll leave you to settle your business.” He pauses after speaking, and I hold my breath. “Unless… you’d like to go with me.”

My heart thunders, and I consider it, abandoning this place with him. But deep down, I know I’d only be delaying the inevitable.

My lack of a response seems to be all the response he needs.

“Good night, Layla,” he rasps, and a moment later, I’m staring at his broad shoulders and tapered waist through the well-fitting suit jacket. He saunters toward an exit sign only accessible from VIP, and I’m undoubtedly about to have the most uncomfortable conversation of my life.

16

Layla

My hands shake as I open the app and request a ride home, deeply regretting that I didn’t drive myself. Martinez’s steps grow closer, but I don’t turn. Not even when he calls my name, earning us a few stares as we cross the parking lot. He wants to talk about what he just witnessed, but I’d decided I was done with him long before he walked intoThe Jungletonight. So, regardless of what he needs to get off his chest right now, I don’t want to hear it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks, gripping my arm so tightly that I wince when he spins me to face him.

I pull out of his grasp, rubbing my arm where he’s just squeezed it. “Let’s just… stop.” That’s all I’m able to say, because it feels like I’ve already said so much leading up to tonight.

If he’s looking for remorse or an apology, he won’t get that from me.

“I walk in, catch you standing with some guy, letting him hold you like he fucking owns you, and you don’t think that warrants an explanation?”

Hearing how worked up he is about Damien holding my waist, kissing my cheek, I can’t help but wonder how he would’ve reacted if he’d seen the rest.

At the thought of it, I swear I feel Damien’s fingers again, and my lids flutter.

“Answer me!” Martinez shouts.

My eyes land on his, seeing anger swimming in them. But then my attention is drawn across the lot when a bike engine revs—matte black, with the driver wearing a blacked-out helmet and leather gloves, an expensive tailored suit.

Damien.

His head’s turned this way, watching as he revs his engine again. But this time, he lifts his foot from the pavement and takes off, slipping into traffic as the roar of his bike is swallowed by the night.

Only now that he’s gone do I realize Martinez was watching Damien, too. And also watchingmewatching Damien.

“Are you planning to tell me who the fuck that is?”

“It’s a little late to get fired up, isn’t it?”

His brow gathers, and he’s brimming with frustration. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Shaking my head, I scoff at how clueless he is. “We’ve been doing this for more than six months, Martinez, and there’s no progress. No…substance.Don’t you think that’s sad? Don’t you think that means something?”

“We talked about this, Layla. That was supposed to be the whole point in inviting you here tonight. My introducing you to my friends was supposed to show you I want you in my life, that I’m not afraid to bring you deeper into my world.”

“And look how wellthatturned out,” I say with a humorless laugh. “I sat here for nearly an hour. Alone. Because you couldn’t decide on a fucking shirt?”

“Alone? You didn’t look all that lonely to me,” he snaps, completely ignoring the rest of my statement.

I roll my eyes and don’t even respond.

“Is that what this is about? Is this your way of acting out because I was a little late?”

“A little late is quite the understatement, Diego.”

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