Page 85 of Knights Game

“You’ve not lived until you’ve seen him do the Macarena,” Isla says from next to Henry. There’s something else these women have in common with each other and being part of his inner circle, and well, let’s face it, criminals.

They all walked straight out a magazine.

Isla takes breath-taking to a whole new level. She’s the epitome of flawless elegance, with radiant pale skin and captivating brown doe eyes. Her long chestnut hair shimmers with honeyed highlights, a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks adds a touch of charm.

“Fuck off. I did it once. You’ve got to let it go, Isla,” he replies, grinning, and she laughs.

My stomach twists and I feel a pang of something, making my chest squeeze. How many of these beautiful women has he slept with?

Why am I thinking about that?

More to the point, why do I care whether he has slept with any of these people?

It doesn’t matter. It’s all an act. Remember.

“Excuse me,” I say, standing.

“Want me to come?” Katy says, glancing up at me from the chair.

“Can you walk in a straight line?” Roman says with narrowed eyes.

“Probably not, to be fair.” Katy waves her hand. “I’ll wait here, hold the fort.”

“Noble of you,” Roman mutters and she pokes her tongue out at him.

“I’ll be right back.” Luca stands, but I raise an eyebrow. “I think I can manage a wee without you.”

“I did make a promise.”

“Levi is preoccupied. He’s already had his fun with me.” Picking up my glittery clutch, I excuse myself again and follow the groups of people who have started to vacate the main room.

“Layla? Layla Johnson?”

I look from side to side, searching for the source of the voice and see a man waving at me. He’s not much taller than me in my heels, greying hair, and slightly overweight, his shirt is tight underneath his tuxedo showing a belly that enjoys the finer things in life.

Like sweets. Lots and lots of them.

His face is kind though, blue sparkling eyes show intelligence, and his smile is infectious. I just wish I knew who he is. And how the hell he knows my name.

I wave stupidly and then carry on walking, heading towards the ladies. Who’s to say this isn’t a trap?

Fingers crossed there’s no bloody queue.

“Layla.” At a light tap on my shoulder, I start, and then look from the finger to the man. “Jesus,” he places his hand to his bow tie. “You look just like your mother!”

I freeze.

Everything in me coils up, my breath hitches at hearing someone refer to me and my mother in the same sentence.

That hasn’t happened in a long, long time.

“I wasn’t sure it was you, but now I’m seeing you up close.” He pulls me into a hug, and I just go. Because I am completely confused as to what the bloody hell is happening. And who the bloody hell he is. He releases me and I step back, rubbing at my arm as a wave of unease runs through my body. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No.” I press my lips together and frown before clearing the frog in my throat. “No, it’s okay. But I’m really sorry, I have no idea who you are.”

“You wouldn’t. I worked with your parents. I always wondered what happened to their daughter, and here you are.”

“Here I am.” I smile politely because I’ve literally got no idea what else to say to the man. “You said you worked with them both? I didn’t know they worked together.”

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