Page 42 of Carved in Ruin

“Is that where you were earlier? Were you out with him?”

“No!” I shake my head frantically, the chair behind me digging into my calves as I back into it. “No, I wasn’t. I had… I had something else to do, and he—he crashed it.”

Layla’s eyes widen. “Hefollowedyou? He chased after you?”

I sink into the vanity chair, my legs too weak to hold me. “I swear I didn’t want him to.”

Layla paces, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “When did you and Anatoly get this close, huh? What else aren’t you telling me?”

“What?” I look up, disbelief crashing over me. “Anatoly? What are you even talking about?”

“You think I haven’t noticed the way he looks at you?”

“I wasn’t with Anatoly, Layla. Besides, he doesn’t look at me in any type of way.”

“Thenwho?” she demands, did she seriously forget about Rafael’s existence? Or does she only want to satisfy her doubt?

I swallow hard, my hands clutching the vanity behind me. “It was Rafael,” I finally admit, the words falling from my mouth like stones.

Layla’s face goes blank for a moment. “Rafael,” she repeats, her tone unreadable. “As in my fiancé?”

I nod, feeling like the worst human alive. “It wasn’t supposed to happen,” I mutter. “He tried to kiss me at the celebratory dinner too, I swear to everything holy I put a stop to it.”

Her lips part slightly, and for a moment, I see something in her expression I don’t understand—relief? But it’s gone as quickly as it came. “You’re unbelievable,” she says.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “Please forgive me.”

She exhales shakily, running a hand through her hair. “God, this is such a mess.”

Something in her voice makes me look up, makes me analyze her more closely. “You’re not… mad, are you?” I ask cautiously.

“Of course I’m mad!” she snaps. But there’s something in her tone that doesn’t quite match her words.

“Layla…” I narrow my eyes. “Are you actually—are you relieved?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You are,” I insist, realization dawning. “You’re not mad about Rafael. You’re relieved it wasn’t Anatoly.”

She stiffens but doesn’t deny it. “What is wrong with us?” I whisper, more to myself than to her.

Layla lets out a long, heavy sigh and sinks down onto the floor beside my chair. She pulls her knees to her chest, burying her face in her hands.

“I kissed Anatoly at the dinner too,” she blurts.

It feels like the ground beneath my feet is shaking. My ears start to ring. “What?” I breathe.

Layla peeks at me from between her fingers. “Please don’t be mad,” she says softly, dropping her hands to her lap. “But I… I overheard you and Rafael. In the bathroom.”

“Youwhat?”

She holds up her hands defensively, rushing to explain. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I was looking for you, and then I heard you two in there, and—I couldn’t move. I just stood there.”

I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off, her words coming faster now. “He was just… so hungry for you, Mila. So desperate for you, despite all the baggage you two have.” Her hands move to rub her forehead, like she’s trying to massage the tension away. “And—please don’t misunderstand me—but I’ve never had anyone feel like that for me. Not like that.”

I blink at her, stunned into silence, but she keeps going. “I was turning to leave, and Anatoly was there. He saw me… and I just—I kissed him.”

“Why?” I finally manage.

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