“Oh. Wow.” Arron blinked, his eyebrows arched as if that was all that need be said. And in a way, it was. Even through all the tumult of Gavin, a part of Layla had always loved Luke. She loved how he smiled when he was in a good mood, how he grinned like a reckless devil when he was having fun. She loved his strong arms around her and the feel of his sculpted body pressed up against hers when they embraced. But though everything she’d once loved about Luke was still there, albeit under his wretched moods, everything was changing – and Layla had changed with it.
Suddenly, Layla’s entire life in Seattle felt like it was reaching a dead-end; and that thought made her sad, more sad than anything else.
“Does he know you don’t love him anymore?” Arron spoke softly.
“I haven’t told him in so many words,” Layla sighed. “I didn’t know until just now, actually. But he’s picked up on it. I’ve been vicious with him… I think something deep inside me is pushing him away.”
“So who’s the lucky newcomer?” Arron spoke softly, reaching out to pet Layla’s curls, stroking them kindly.
“You remember that guy from the restaurant?” Layla spoke, still staring up at the ceiling.
“I’ll never forgive you for cutting up his credit card before we went shopping for a boat, but yes.” Arron gave a mock-pout, trying to lighten the situation, though his eyes narrowed shrewdly. “What about him?”
“I think he’s the one, Aaron.”
The moment she spoke it, Layla knew it was true. Unbidden, aquamarine and gold eyes seared through her thoughts now, followed by the hamsa cuff. Over on her desk, it sat there reminding her of everything that had been offered to her by her mystery man – and everything she’d walked away from.
But couldn’t escape, night after night.
“Wow.” Arron’s grey eyes were round. “Like…theone, the one?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Layla breathed.
“Shit.” Arron stroked her curls again. “I can see how that would get in the way of re-booting your relationship with Luke. Though Luke does a fantastic job of getting in his own way.”
“Luke is Luke.” Layla sighed, feeling hopeless, like her situation had no answers. “He’s always going to be Luke, a storm inside a tempest inside a teakettle. I knew what I was getting into this time, and I went with open eyes, hoping we could make it work. And we’ve tried, but…I keep dreaming about the guy from the gallery, Arron! Like he’s twisted into my mind, into my body. Like he’s dug himself deep inside me and I can’t get him out. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before and it’s driving me mad! I want to make nice with Luke, but I just can’t. Like something inside me is preventing it, all the time. Like all we can do is fight and fuck, because something inside me is screaming like a wild beast for this other man…”
“Some hot asshole who sends his driver to stalk you, all so you’ll accept his job offer?” Arron had been present for John showing up at the house, and now Layla knew that John had also been the person who’d brought her acceptance letter from the Red Letter Hotel. She’d told Arron about the incident at Havana, and Arron was of the same opinion as Luke – that the job offer, and Mr. Rhakvir, were bad news.
“Even so.” Layla sighed, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eye sockets again. “But the weirdest thing is that the moment I applied to that job, I had this feeling it wasright. I had this incredible intuition that that job was supposed to be what I would do with my life. Like everything suddenly clicked into place. If Luke hadn’t been there, I probably would have gone downstairs that night – at least talked to John when he arrived from the Hotel. At least listened to him…”
“Sounds like you are having some serious soul-level conflict, hun-bun.” Arron reached out, tenderly petting one of Layla’s long black curls away from her face again. But his face was deadly serious, and Layla knew how much he cared about her – and worried that she was being tailed by this strange man and his driver. “So what are you going to do?”
“Maybe I just need to go for a walk. Clear my head.” Layla sighed. Walking and yoga were her exercise, though Luke had always harangued her about going to Crossfit. Layla’s body was curvy but lean, and needed slow exercise. She already had a fast enough temper; she didn’t need more heat.
“Want some company?” Arron asked. “I could use a jaunt down to the park.”
“No, thanks. I’ll just walk up to Volunteer Park myself. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
“Ok.” Arron wasn’t offended by Layla’s need for space. They’d been friends a long time, and he was the only person besides Luke who had really seen how much hell Layla had gone through when she’d lost her family. Layla was closer to Arron than either Celia or Charlie, and he knew her moods, not taking any of it to heart. Pushing up off the bed as Layla did, Arron squeezed Layla’s shoulder with a knowing look. “But I’m always here to talk, Layloo. You know we’d all rather live with you than Luke, right? Even though he’s got this house—”
“I know.” Layla smiled, feeling his sincerity.
“We’ll figure something out, sugar. Don’t you fret.”
Arron was good people and he reached out, gathering Layla into a hug. A sensation of warmth and ease filled her, the most relaxed she’d felt in weeks. They squnched for a long moment, then finally broke apart. With a solid pat to Layla’s cheek, Arron smiled reassuringly, then opened the door to her room and exited, flowing down the hall to his own room back by the bathroom.
Grabbing a canary cardigan from her bureau, Layla shrugged it on and tied the belt. In two minutes she was out the front door, the Irish door-harp chiming her exit with an exuberance Layla couldn’t hope to match.
CHAPTER 9 – ADRIAN
Jogging down the front porch steps in her tall tan boots, Layla rounded the riverstone yard-posts and stepped to the sidewalk, moving under old city trees and past front gardens still rioting with sunflowers and autumn vegetables. Capitol Hill was an older part of Seattle, mostly stout craftsman homes from the 1920’s and 30’s, though some of the larger houses were Victorian. Ambling through neighborhoods full of tall trees with simmering clouds heavy in the sky above, Layla passed a vine of honeysuckle still blooming in a sunny spot along a fence. Scent swamped her for a moment and she stopped, leaning in to smell a particularly lovely bloom.
But something caught her attention and she paused suddenly, her nose in the flower but her eye on the street. A sleek black car idled behind her on the block. When she stepped on down the sidewalk, it moved, following her. Layla’s hackles rose. Walking more briskly, she kept the car in her peripheral sight and saw that it followed, creeping along, stopping then catching up. A hot surge of fury raced through Layla that she was being followed. Setting her teeth and bristling, Layla pulled her phone out of her pocket. Swiftly, she dialed 911 then turned on her heel, marching right up to the black car and knocking hard on the tinted driver’s-side window.
911, what’s your emergency?
As the operator spoke, Layla shouted at the car. “I know you can fucking see me, asshole! Why are you creeping along, following me? I have 911 on the phone!” She shoved the phone up against the tinted glass. “Talk to my face or get lost, but I’ve had it with this bullshit!”
