Page 17 of Master

She walks toward me with a broad and inviting smile. “Trust me, he will be more than happy to see you.”

How does she know who I am? Everyone at this club would probably recognize me after last night.

“You really don’t have to,” I mutter as her fingers run over the screen of her cell phone. It dings a second later.

“Liam and Tristan are just down the block. They’ll be here in a few minutes,” she tells me, gesturing to a set of black leather chairs at a nearby table. We both take a seat. “I’m Layla, by the way.”

“Sasha.”

“I know.” Layla fidgets slightly in her chair, staring at me with a tinge of bewilderment. “You look amazing after… everything. How are you feeling?”

I faintly remember her kneeling beside me and covering me with a sheet while Liam took care of me. “You were there,” I blurt, ignoring her question.

Her smile fades slightly, and her eyes sadden. The air in the room suddenly feels thick and heavy. “Yes. I helped Liam get you…”

“Breathing?” I tease with an arched brow, trying desperately to lighten the suddenly grim mood.

Layla lets out a tiny chortle. “I was going to say, ‘less blue,’” she retorts before slapping her hand over her mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry. That was fucking crass.”

I like her.

“Don’t be.” I giggle awkwardly. “That shit was funny. Morbid, but funny.”

A man bearing a resemblance to Liam joins us from the hallway with a warm smile. “The two of you seem to be having a good time.”

“Oh, my coffee.” Layla outstretches her hands toward the large, iced coffee he’s carrying.

He pulls it back, keeping it from her grasp and winking. “I think you meant, ‘Oh, love of my life.’”

“That’sexactlywhat I said,” she brats, reaching for the cup again. His lips purse, and he shakes his head, a disapproving look I know all too well. Isaac, Shawn, and Trevor would’ve left me unable to sit for days had I ever sassed them like her. I shift uncomfortably in my chair, waiting for him to punish her.

He runs his hand along her jaw and firmly grips her chin. Tipping her face up toward his, he leans down until their faces are inches apart. “You’re such a fucking brat,mo chuisle. When I finish upstairs, I think you need a gentle reminder.”

Dipping her playfully bashful face, she replies, “I think that is a good idea, Sir.”

A sincere smile pulls at the corners of his mouth as he closes the distance to place an affectionate, wet kiss on her lips. Pulling back, he tenderly dusts his thumb along her lower lip as he hands her the coffee.

The men I’ve had in my life would’ve never.

“Thank you, baby,” Layla purrs before taking a long sip of her iced beverage. Turning her attention to me, she introduces the two of us, “This is my husband, Tristan. And this is Sasha. She’s waiting for Liam.”

“Liam was dropping a case of Tullamore over at the pub. He should be here in a minute or two,” Tristan explains. He outstretches his hand to shake mine, and I take it timidly. “Please excuse my rudeness, but I have several things to address before we open. It was nice to meet you, and I am truly sorry for what happened last night.”

“Thank you.”

Layla’s brows furrow a little with concern. “In all seriousness, you’re good?”

“Define good,” I quip. “In the not-dead department, almost one hundred percent. Finding myself unemployed, homeless, and owning nothing but the borrowed clothes on my back… Yeah, that could probably be better.”

“If I know anything about my husband and his brothers, they won’t let you wind up on the street. I would bet my life on it.” Layla closes her eyes and lets out a heavy exhale.

“She’s right,” Liam’s familiar voice carries from the darkness of the hallway, startling me.

“I’ll let the two of you…” Layla trails off as she stands from her chair.

Rising with her, I wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tightly, whispering, “Thank you.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

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