Page 58 of Knights Game

“Thank you.”

21

Layla

“Wakey, wakey, sunshine.” Luca’svoice is a whisper, a barely there one that I try to grab hold of. My senses slowly come back to life as the memories of last night wash over me along with the smell of coffee.

“Mmm-hmm.” I groan, rolling over and stretching, my muscles aching and my extremities feeling well and truly used.

Oh, God!

Last night.

The shower, the car, the club, the deal, Levi, Grandad, Katy.

The nightmare!

I open my eyes and sit up quickly, taking in the vast surroundings of Luca’s bedroom, trying desperately to calm my rapid heartbeat as images and memories from the night before threaten to engulf me.

The magnificent view of London shines through the floor-to-ceiling windows, rich silk curtains float down softening the room. Feeling the soft high thread count cotton duvet, I look at the little details. The luxuriousness of it. The dark panelling onone side, two chest of drawers and simple white, cream and gold abstract painting on the wall. Textured and beautiful.

“It wasn’t a dream then.” My voice is thick with sleep and a killer hangover, my head pounds like it has its own pulse. Luca sits at the bottom of the enormous bed, coffee cup in his hand, he’s back in a three-piece navy-blue suit with a crisp white shirt, his hair styled in its usual just fallen out of bed tousle.

He looks ridiculously hot.

I reach up and gently touch my neck, which feels bruised and tender. I wince.

That was a new…experience.

“You’ll be sore today,” he says flatly.

I peel one eye open, and my eyes meet his. Emotionless. But I can still feel his hand on my shoulder. Still hear his dulcet tones as he shared a part of himself that I like to think no one else knows.

I stare at him, trying to understand his complexities because right now I’m confused. His eyes track to my neck and a flash of something passes over the impenetrable mask of his.

Is he…smug?

“I’ve got you some clothes, get showered and dressed. I need to run some errands. You can come with me, then we’ll grab what you need from your flat.” He stands and I sit silently as he picks up the coffee that is on the bed side table and hands it to me. “There’s painkillers in the cupboard in the bathroom, it will help with the soreness and hangover.”

“What makes you think I’m hungover?” My voice is gruff, and I swallow.

“I don’t care either way.” He shrugs, and does that thing men in suits do, pulling his jacket together and buttoning up as he stands.

And I’ve forgotten my name. Why does he have to be so hot?

“You have twenty minutes.”

“Where’s my phone?”I bet Katy’s head is spiralling.I wrap the sheet round my body and blow the coffee, Luca just handed to me. I take a sip. It’s exactly how I like it. “I’d ask how you know how I take my coffee, but I fear I already know the answer to that question.”

It should scare me, the fact that he has been watching me closely enough to know how I take my coffee. Hell, a lot of what’s going on should scare me, but right now I’m just trying not to throw up.

He turns to leave. “Twenty minutes.”

I drink my coffee in quiet contemplation: I’m attracted to him there is absolutely no doubt of that. The sex is amazing, messed up, but amazing.

I huff to myself and throw the covers off, padding to his ensuite. Last night, I was terrified that he was going to kill me. This morning, the more rational part of my brain is back in control, reassuring me repeatedly that he needs me. I’m just not sure what part of him needs me. The business side, or the side that feels this connection between us.

The tiled flooring is warm under my bare feet. I turn on the tap feeling the water until it’s piping hot and steam billows and builds around me.

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