Page 61 of August and the Night

I register Dante’s presence in the midst of the chaos. His sharp eyes catch mine, and he tilts his head ever so slightly, telling me that he will handle the situation here. I nod in response.

Turning my attention back to Layla, I hold her hand in a tight grip. A gnawing emptiness is growing in me, making me feel hollow.

With angry strides, I lead her away from the scene, guiding her through the maze of bodies. But as we move, my gaze catches John, his expression a mix of shame and desperation as Layla looks at him, and I can see the plea in her eyes. It's as if she's silently begging him to choose her this time.

John's eyes meet mine, and something shifts within him. Determination replaces the shame, and he reaches out, placing a gentle hand on my chest. His touch is meant to calm me, to persuade me to reason, but I'm not in a place for reason.

I gently push his hand away, my focus solely on Layla. I need her to hear me out. Without another word, I guide her screaming form to the car waiting just outside the club.

As I settle into the driver's seat, her cursing fills the car, telling me off. Starting the engine, I navigate the familiar streets, each turn taking us closer to my house.

I reach out and gently place a hand on her thigh, and she rips it off her like my touch burned. My teeth clench, and I take a breath to calm myself down.

"Layla, please," I implore, my voice laced with urgency. "We need to talk."

She jerks her arm away from my touch, her voice rising with rage. "I don't want to talk to you, August. Don't you dare think that your return changes anything. You’re nothing but another man to me now, you hold no place in my heart."

I feel the weight of her words like a physical blow, a reminder of the rift I created between us. My heart constricts, the pain of her indifference digging deep into my chest. But I refuse to let her slip away from me like this.

"Layla," I say, my voice low but resolute. "I will never be just another man to you. I won't allow it."

She scoffs, bitterness etched in her features. "You have some nerve saying that after everything."

I look at her, my gaze steady and unwavering. "Believe me or not, it doesn't change the truth. You're the only one for me."

Her eyes hold mine, a silent standoff between us. The world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of us deeply engaged in this conversation. I know I need to make her understand, to bridge the gap that has grown between us.

"We'll talk when we get back to the house," I say firmly, my voice carrying a dominant edge that brooks no argument.

She shakes her head, frustration wallowing in her eyes. "I'll never step foot in that house again. Every corner reminds me of your lies, your deception. For all I know, I had been sleeping in your and your secretary’s shared bed."

I feel a pang in my chest at her words, the realization of the damage I caused hitting me like a wave. But I can't let her slip away now, not when I have a chance to make things right.

"Layla," I sigh softly, the intensity of my feelings seeping into my voice. "Every inch of me is yours, and Stacy means nothing. You have to believe that."

Her brows furrow, the skepticism still evident in her eyes. "And why should I believe you? After everything that's happened, how can I trust your words?"

My heart clenches at the doubt in her voice, the realization that my actions shattered the foundation of trust between us. I look at her with a raw honesty that I hadn't allowed myself to express before.

"She saw the connection between us, and she wanted to destroy it," I explain, my voice steady and earnest. "I never once touched her; we were heading to that business trip in Italy I told you about. When she said those things, I fired her on the spot. "

"Layla, you need to understand—I don't tolerate anyone disrespecting you," I say, my tone rough at just that thought. "I would never stand by and let someone hurt you."

Her gaze holds mine, the intensity of her emotions visible in her eyes. The car seems to shrink as she looks at me, never once spotting the love that used to be there.

"Why then, August," she retorts bitterly, her voice tinged with a hint of accusation, "did you disrespect me? Did you hurt me?"

Her words cut through the air like a knife, hitting me square in the chest. The accusation, the truth behind her question, strikes a chord within me. It's a question I have grappled with myself, one I have tried to rationalize but have never found a satisfactory answer for.

I look at her, my gaze unwavering, and feel the weight of my own mistakes settling heavily upon my shoulders. "Layla, I know what I did was wrong and I am so sorry. There's no excuse for my actions."

"I know I've hurt you," I say, my voice cracking slightly with the weight of my confession. "But I want to make things right. I want to earn your trust back."

“August, Stacy could not destroy us," she whispers, completely ignoring my pleas. Hope fills my chest at her words, my heart starts beating so hard I can hear it. But she looks at me with so much bitterness and hurt before uttering “You already broke us, it’s really hard to destroy something that is already broken.”

My heart that was full of hope not a second ago plummets, breaking for the millionth time this week. "Little dove, I know it won't be easy," I admit, my voice raw with emotion. "But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to mend what we had. To mend us."

I park the car once we reach my home, the engines hum a backdrop to the tension that has settled between us.

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