Page 9 of August and the Night

10

August

It soon becomes apparent that I cannot allow Layla to return back home in the state she is in. If alcohol is truly banned from her father’s house, returning to it this drunk will get her into trouble. Moreover, I do not want anything to stop her from going out on other dates with me, as I still need a lot more information.

“You’re coming home with me, little dove,” I demand, leading her staggering form to the restaurant's bathroom to wash her face before we leave. She sings different tunes all the way.

She stops singing after hearing what I said and laughs before slurring, “August, I know that I am irresistible, but if I go home with you, there is a one hundred percent chance that my father will shoot me.”

“I would kill him before he does that, little dove,” I growl in her ear. Yes, she is my enemy’s daughter, but there is no way in hell am I letting him lay a hand on her. I try to justify my protectiveness with the excuse that I can’t let him do anything to her until I get all the information I need, but deep down, I know that there is something else behind this feeling, and I refuse to look into it.

She laughs wholeheartedly, even wiping a few tears from her eyes, before telling me, “Sorry, August, I really want to kiss you again, but I am not allowed to sleep outside of the house.”

I ignore the feeling of my chest warming and just focus on the fact that she isn’t allowed to sleep outside. She is twenty-three, for God’s sake, and yet she still takes orders from her father like a child. I decide to knock some sense into her. “Layla, how do you think Arthur will react if you show up on his doorstep drunk?” I tell her, and watch as her face drains of all color, as if she didn’t think of that till now.

As I watch how quickly her skin pales, I can’t help but feel thankful that we reached the bathroom. I push open the door and go to the sink to wash her face with cold water.

She lets out a sigh of relief before something seems to register in her head, “You’re not supposed to be here, this is the women’s bathroom,” she says in concern, and my chest rumbles in laughter that I try to contain. She appears to be a confused drunk.

“But there is nobody here but us, little dove,” I tell her, and she processes that for a second before uttering, “Yeah, you’re right.”

As I finish washing her face, I notice how she keeps shifting from leg to leg, as if she can’t handle holding her own weight anymore.

“What is wrong? Your feet hurt?” I ask her gently, and she nods slightly. I bend down and put my arms on her knees before carrying her out of the bathroom. Her body feels like heaven against mine, and I can feel myself starting to harden. However, I won’t touch her. Not once in my life have I touched an intoxicated woman, and it won’t start now.

Her face has regained back its redness and she buries her head in my neck. I disturb her peace again but it was necessary. “Hey, you’re going to have to call your father or something, because you’re staying with me.”

She quickly removes her head from my neck, and her eyes fill with worry. She starts trying to get out of my arms, but I only hold her tighter. “August, please, seat me in the chair so I can call Lily,” she sputters out in frustration.

I put her down on one of the restaurant chairs and notice how she slightly shivers and appears cold. Immediately, I take my jacket off and put it on her, and she smiles up gratefully at me. I see her fumbling with her purse to get her phone, and when she finally gets it, it takes her about five whole minutes to put her password in. She successfully calls Lily after a while, and I notice how she bites her lip from the nerves. Lily immediately answers after the first ring, and I see Layla release a breath of relief.

“Lily, I am in trouble,” I hear her say nervously, and she has to move the phone away from her ear from the sounds of Lily’s worried squeals.

I signal for her to put the phone on speaker, and she does. Lily’s worried questions permeate the air. “Are you hurt? Is he a creep? Layla, please tell me what’s wrong.”

I notice Lily trying to control her voice so she appears less drunk as she says, “No, Lily, he’s a perfect gentleman. But…” but she fails, her slurring very obvious. She then pauses for a few seconds, trying to think of ways to tell her that she is intoxicated, but she comes up short.

“But? But what, Layla?” Lily screams in frustration and in worry, and I take the phone from Layla’s hand to explain the situation to Lily.

“Hey, don’t worry, everything is okay, but Layla tried alcohol for the first time, and I do not think it is wise for her to go back to the house in such a state, as she told me that Arthur doesn’t allow her to have alcohol,” I tell her, trying to keep the animosity I feel towards her from appearing in my voice.

“Oh god, Lord help me,” she whispers to herself, and I immediately remove the phone from speaker and put it to my ear. Fear is evident in her voice, and I hear the sounds of her loud, unlabored breathing, as if she is hyperventilating.

“Listen to me, I will convince Arthur for her to sleep outside. I will tell him it’s a girl's night, and you take her with you tonight. But this can’t happen again. Don’t let her return home drunk; it won’t be good at all,” she says hurriedly, and I hear what seems to be shuffling of clothes in the background.

“What do you mean by that?” I growl out, and she snarls out, “It means that if you give a fuck about her, you won’t let her return home, or…”

“Or what?” I bark out, but she just hangs up in my face, and I fight the urge to throw the phone at the wall.

I take a deep breath to calm myself, and I turn around to face Layla, only to see her head against the table and soft snores coming out of her mouth. I bend down and carry her all the way to my car, where I adjust the front seat so it will be more comfortable for her to sleep in.

I see John shuffling behind me, clearly uncomfortable seeing me taking her. I know that he has grown fond of her over time, and I cannot help but reassure him that she will be okay. “John, I am taking her with me for her safety; she can’t return back like this.” And he nods.

I contemplate something before getting in the driver seat of my car. I look over to her and see slight smudges of mascara under her eyes and smudges of red near her lips. “John, please buy makeup remover and a pair of pajamas that are her size.”

He looks panicked for a minute, but then he nods and gets into his car as I get into mine, and we drive off. I look over to her, sleeping peacefully in my car, and I cannot fight the possessive urge that tells me to put my hand on her exposed thigh. I allow my finger to run small circles on her skin.

She is an enigma to me. Everything I thought I knew about her crumbled down in a matter of a few days, and I am honestly scared of her truly being an innocent little dove, because that still won’t stop me from getting my revenge.

---