Page 31 of August and the Night

26

August

As I engage in a business conversation with my secretary on speaker, my gaze involuntarily drifts towards Layla's approach. She moves with captivating grace; her beauty always catches my attention, no matter what I seem to be doing.

Despite my efforts to maintain composure, a warmth spreads through my chest. I rub at the sensation, my mind battling against the idea that I am starting to grow feelings for her.

I smile at her as she sits down next to me on the outdoor bench, even as I continue the call. I steal another glance at her features, and I think about how she might be the most alluring woman I have ever laid eyes on.

I start to wrap up with Stacy, and it is as if she senses Layla next to me. Her tone suddenly drips with sickening sweetness as she utters, "I will have them prepare the hotel room just as you liked it last time for our trip to Italy, goodbye August. Sorry, I mean Mr. Steele." Before she hangs up the phone, leaving me with distaste on my face with her antics.

If only she weren’t so good at her job, I would have fired her ages ago.

Layla removes her head from my shoulder before turning to look at me with a scowl.

"Who is she? What does she mean by that?" She fires questions at me. I know that a normal reaction would be for me to feel anger at her lack of trust in me, but for some reason, I am not feeling that at all. I actually enjoy her jealousy.

I smile gently at her, placing a reassuring hand on her knee. "Just my secretary, Layla. She was talking about our last business trip and planning the next one; we had and will have separate hotel rooms, of course," I assure her.

Her features soften slightly but still have a twinge of discomfort. “Say the word and she is fired," I state firmly, looking into Layla's eyes with an intensity that makes sure she knows that I mean every word I say. Her gaze softens as she processes my words, and a hint of gratitude glimmers in her eyes.

She seems to contemplate my offer before letting out a sigh and shaking her head gently. "Thank you, Auggie. I appreciate that, but I trust you. I don't think it's necessary," she replies. While her jealousy greatly amuses me, I still feel the pesky warmth return to my chest at her unwarranted and wrongly placed trust. I take her hand in mine, feeling a strange mixture of protectiveness and warmth.

"Ready to go?" I ask, noticing a somber look in her eyes. She nods, her posture slightly slouched. Holding her hand firmly, I lead her towards the car.

With a gentle touch, I open the car door for her and assist with her seatbelt. As I lean in closer, I whisper softly in her ear, "I got you."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of her lips, and she gives me a quick peck on the cheek before leaning into her seat and fidgeting with her hands.

I separate them before climbing into the car and driving off to her father’s house. I ask her to call Lily and to give me the phone, and she nods. She grabs her phone with shaky hands and dials Lily, putting it on speaker. She plays with her hair while the phone rings, another telltale sign of her nerves.

Lily answers the phone, and a slew of questions for Layla follow, overwhelming her even more.

"Enough," I snap, my patience wearing thin. "Tell Arthur to expect us for dinner now." There is a tense silence on the other end, and then Lily's voice trembles with worry. "August, please reconsider. If you provoke him, Layla's life—"

"Is under my protection," I interrupt, my words cold as ice. "Notify Arthur, and don't even think about questioning me on this." I can sense her hesitation before she finally relents. "Fine, I'll do it. But if anything goes wrong, I will have your head on a platter." With that, she ends the call, and my jaw clenches tight.

Lily's voice brings a sour taste to my mouth; I heavily dislike her. I can't fathom how someone as pure and kind-hearted as Layla could be related to her. Layla is innocent, her spirit untouched by the shadows that have consumed Lily. The contrast between them is stark, and I find myself questioning how Layla could come from the same bloodline as that devilish family.

I glance at Layla beside me, I notice the glistening of tears in her eyes. My heart clenches at the sight, anger boiling within me at her tears. Swiftly, I brush the tears away with my thumb, my touch gentle yet firm. I keep my attention on the road, but my hand remains on her thigh, hoping to reassure her. She puts her hand on top of mine and leans her head against the window, probably trying to distract herself with the scenery.

The tension is so thick, it could be cut with a knife as we arrive at the house. Layla's grip on the door handle tightens, her fingers trembling with unease.

She turns to me, her eyes pleading, silently begging me to reconsider and drive away. In response, I bring her hand to my lips and press a gentle kiss, my eyes conveying to her that there is no backing out.

As we step out of the car, I keep my hand on the small of her back, a subtle support as she hesitantly moves toward the imposing figure that storms out of the house.

In a surge of anger, Arthur, Layla's father, abruptly leaves the house and approaches us with a furrowed brow and a thunderous expression. Lily runs after him, a mix of panic and desperation in her eyes, while Oliver Davis, her fiancé, waddles behind her, his unhealthy figure not helping him to run after her or stand beside his future father-in-law.

I can sense Layla's fear, her steps faltering as her father takes menacing steps towards her. I squeeze her hand reassuringly, silently urging her to stay strong.

Arthur's anger is a fierce blaze, and as Layla steps backward and closer to me, he abruptly moves to stand in front of her, his accusatory finger pointing at her with venomous rage. "You! How dare you?" He barks with fury, a vein pulsating in his forehead.

Before he can continue his bullshit, I swiftly intervene, seizing his pointed finger and twisting it with a quick, calculated movement. A guttural scream of agony escapes Arthur's lips as he clutches his injured hand.

His furious eyes flicker to his bodyguards, and he commands them to attack. Yet, they remain still and instead subtly form a wall around me and Layla for protection, a sudden realization crosses his face – the balance of power has shifted.

Panic edges into his features as his trembling hand seeks the gun concealed in his waistband. I anticipate his move and deliver a sharp kick, sending the weapon spiraling out of his reach and into the nearby bushes.

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