Page 53 of The Kat Bunglar

Laila grimaced in response.

“What are you doing back so soon? I thought I had kicked you out,” he smirked.

Laila felt herself bristle with anger. Now that she was no longer blinded with the desire to make their relationship work, she saw what a spoiled, petulant overgrown child he was.

As they stepped into the elevator, Laila coolly responded, “Legally, I have every right to that condo, and you know it. But I’m not here for you.” She jabbed the third-floor button with more force than necessary.

He regarded her through narrowed eyes. “So, you were sleeping with the neighbor this whole time,” he let out a snort of disgust. “I knew it.”

The last ten years exploded before Laila’s eyes. Jay’s constant travel, smelling the perfume on his ties, fighting over their finances. Jay shrinking away from her touch, making her feel needy for wanting to be held.

Before Laila could stop herself, she slapped Jay across the face. The sound echoed throughout the elevator. She recoiled in horror. There was a red welt across his cheek, and although she wanted to back down, something in her told her to stand tall.

She took a deep breath, her voice low and laced with pain, years of neglect woven into each word. “You killed our marriage. And I let you. I was so blinded by gratitude that I didn’t realize you were using it against me all these years. Making me smaller and smaller until I became nothing but a speck of dirt under your shoe. I’m done shrinking. What I do—or don’t do—from here on out is none of your business.”

As the elevator doors opened, she swept out without a backward glance. He stared at her slack-jawed, slightly in shock.

Laila walked slowly toward Gabriel’s door, shaking with disbelief. Had she really said those things? Had she really felt that way? Standing in front of Gabriel’s door, she wasn’t sure what to do or where to go.

As she stood there, she heard the door click open. Gabriel stood on the other side, his face shadowed by faint stubble, his eyes bleary, and his hair a tousled mess. She had never seen anything more beautiful in her life. He gestured for her to enter, and she did so with hesitation.

“You didn’t come back,” he said, his voice still gravelly from sleep.

“I think I should go to Los Angeles on my own,” she began.

He cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “Why? It could be dangerous.”

She walked toward her suitcase with the intention of taking it and leaving. The room was dark, the curtains drawn, and she spotted a glass of whiskey abandoned on the coffee table.

“If I feel out of my element, I can always contact the police,” she proceeded to leave his apartment, but Gabriel held out a hand to stop her.

“Laila, stop. Sit down. We had a plan yesterday. What happened?” He slumped into his sofa and picked up the glass of whiskey, eyeing her warily.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him everything. That she knew about his wife and his lies. But something held her back. If she confronted him, she knew this bubble of sweetness between them would dissipate. And in that moment, with her marriage crumbling and her career feeling slightly fragile, she needed the delusion that maybe Gabriel was hers for a little while. A small, stolen moment in time.

She chose her words carefully. “You don’t need to be involved. You have your job that you need to get back to, and I feel terrible that you got involved in the first place... and then hurt. I’m perfectly capable of handling this.”

“Something happened that you’re not telling me. Less than twenty-four hours ago, you were naked on my kitchen counter.” Laila stiffened in protest. “And now you’re running away. Well, I’m not going to let you. I’m going with you. Class is on summer break. So, you don’t have to pretend to worry about my job—”

“I wasn’t pretending,” Laila protested.

He slammed down his glass of whiskey. “Dammit, Laila, this isn’t your decision to make—they hurt me too!”

Laila jumped, taken aback by his vehemence. “I know you’re married,” she blurted.

Gabriel went still, his gaze hardening. “I think you’re confused,” he said slowly, “because last I recall, you’re the one who is married. Who has been married this entire time.”

Laila swayed slightly against the suitcase, feeling the icy chill emanating from Gabriel. She had never seen him like this, but she was determined to state her case. Her tone became clipped and cool. “We received an email from Maria Angelica Santos with all of the documents regarding your two sons. When you first came into my office and issued the sob story about losing the love of your life to breast cancer, the name you gave was also Maria Santos.”

“Maria Sofia Santos,” Gabriel corrected softly, looking into his whiskey glass. “My wife’s name was Maria Sofia Santos, and she never questioned my honesty or insulted my integrity.”

Laila blinked, confused. “So, who is Maria Angelica Santos?”

Gabriel looked up at the ceiling before crossing his arms over his chest, his tattoos also flexing in frustration. “What a fantastic question, Laila. How lovely it would have been if you had asked me that instead of assuming the worst about me. But I suppose a lawyer of your caliber is used to people lying.”

Laila cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I just want to know the truth. I’m owed that if you and I are going to—”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to finish, but she looked away instead. “Angelica is what the family calls her. Maria Angelica Suarez is my sister-in-law. She helps my mother with things like sending emails and paying the utilities, while also being a fantastic aunt to her nephews.” Gabriel took a deep breath and sighed. “I booked us two tickets on the ten o’clock flight to Los Angeles today. I’m going to lie down.” He glanced at her, his face unreadable. “You can go wherever you want.”

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