Page 64 of Knights Game

“The bit about an ounce of cocaine.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well? Why don’t you have apps? Like Deliveroo but for all your debauchery.” I wave my hand. “You have phone numbers right, so why not an app on the black web or whatever.”

“Can you text that to Luca?”

“What?”

“Am I speaking French? Text Luca and tell him what you just told me.”

“About the pelvic floor app?” I’m poking the bear I know I am.

He just stares at me, “A please wouldn’t go amiss. Are you always this abrupt?”

“Are you always this obnoxious?”

“Do you know what makes me obnoxious? Alpha-holes demanding I do things, being blackmailed, and having my life thrown upside down.”

“You’re very melodramatic. You didn’t have to help us that night.”

“Luca said the same.” I roll my eyes, these bloody men.

“Nor did you have to agree to whatever mad plan Luca has suggested.”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” I snap, anger making my heartbeat rapidly behind my ribcage.

“You always have a choice.”

“Oh, oh…fuck off.”

“Strong comeback.”

“And you call me obnoxious.” I tut. “Here I am being judged by Luca’s lapdog.”

“Careful now.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me? Look around at my life Roman. You’re not the first, and something tells me you’re not going to be the last to tell me tobe careful.” I yank at my turtleneck jumper and yank it down. “I’m already bruised.”

He glances across and his eyes fall to the purple angry bruises on my neck, his lips form a firm line, his hands grip the steering wheel. “Luca do that?”

“Did you just growl?” I pull the sweater back in place and cross my arms over my chest and flop back into the chair. He cannot be annoyed that I’ve got bruises on me. That is ridiculous. Although what about this isn’t ridiculous? I’m currently being driven to pack a bag to be moved into Luca’s shag pad and be escorted by some sort of London criminal to a charity sodding dinner.

I laugh.

Roman’s confusion just makes me laugh more. Tears stream down my face, as loud belly laughs erupt out of me, causing me to lean forward and grip my stomach.

My cheeks hurt, my eyes hurt, and fuck, my neck hurts.

The laughter subsides, but tears don’t stop falling, and I try to suppress the sob at the bottom of my throat. All while being watched by the penetrating hazel gaze of Roman as I completely lose my shit.

I turn my body and let the silent tears roll down my cheeks as we drive towards the apartment. Towards whatever turmoil comes next.

“Layla?” I’ve barely opened the front door when I hear Katy’s worried voice from the living room.

I close the door, placing the keys in the bowl and turn to a bloodshot, tired-looking Katy.

“Where have you been? I thought you were dead!” she exclaims, her voice shrill as she rushes forward and grabs me into a tight hug and then holds me at arm’s length, proceeding to rip me a new one.

“You just disappeared, and some hulking great bloke said you’d gone with Luca. Luca, Layla. What the fuck? Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Did you hurt him? I need information, because my brain has cooked up all sorts!”

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