“You’re being very rude, Lyla,” he said as I stepped out of the bathroom.
The air in my lungs left me as I stood there. Frozen. Panicked. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The luncheon was over. I thought for sure I’d escaped him. Apparently not. I hadn’t been alone with him in a long time. I wasn’t entirely sure what my options were, but the thought of him cornering me here, of all places, was making my heart rate triple in speed. Not in a good way, like Lach did. My eyes darted around quickly, searching for someone to help me escape, but no one was around. This man had to be the luckiest creep alive. I took a breath and summoned all of the courage I had inside.
“Fuck you,” I said, quieter than I meant, as I tried to get around him.
He grabbed my arm and squeezed tightly. “Respect, Lyla.”
“I hate you.” I yanked my arm away.
“You know what they say about love and hate.” He smiled, walking toward me. I moved back so fast that I crashed against the wall behind me. He lowered a hand and squeezed my left breast over my shirt. My heart stopped beating. “Do you need a demonstration of how much I love you?”
I was shaking, but somehow, I pushed him off me with both hands. He was much bigger than me, so I knew he’d moved on purpose. Maybe because we finally heard voices approaching. It didn’t matter what the reason was. I ran. Behind me, I heard him laugh. My heart was pounding so hard, my head spinning so fast, that as I turned the corner, I almost ran right into Lachlan, who grabbed my shoulders to stop me.
“This isn’t what I meant when I said you should play hockey.” He smirked. I looked over my shoulder and back at him. He frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I looked over my shoulder again. “I. . .I...I have to go.”
I started to walk away, but he grabbed my wrist. I met his eyes, and a shiver went down my spine at what I saw in them. Unlike the encounter I just experienced, Lachlan’s touch didn’t make me panic or want to run away. It filled me with comfort and something else. I wasn’t quite sure what.
“Let me drive you.”
I nodded and followed him. Dad had driven me here and would surely be pissed that I didn’t wait for him, but I couldn’t stay here a second longer. Outside, I kept my distance from Lachlan in case we were being watched. He unlocked a black two-door BMW, and as we sat inside and I clicked my seatbelt on, I was thankful for the dark tints.
“What happened in there?”
“I can’t, Lach.” I bit my lip and hoped he’d read my face well enough to know I wasn’t okay but also didn’t want to talk about it. He sighed heavily and started to drive.
“Why did you quit?”
My eyes snapped to him. “What?”
“Soccer,” he said. “I can’t imagine quitting. I mean, a fucking plaque? That’s a big deal.”
“Dad probably paid for it.”
“No, he didn’t.” He eyed me.
My response was a shrug.
“At least your dad was there. Mine probably would’ve only showed up for a photo op,” he said.
I looked at the side of his face for a long moment. Maybe we had more in common than I thought. Not that having awful fathers was the best thing to bond over, but it was something. I was just grateful for the change in subject. I didn’t want to talk about soccer, but I could talk about hating my dad all day.
“You really think my father went for something other than a photo op?” I asked after a moment. “He’s a fucking politician. Photo ops are on his to-do list’s top five.”
He chuckled. He had the sexiest laugh I’d ever heard. His eyes lit up as he glanced over, and butterflies started to come alive inside me. I looked away quickly.
“My father thinks throwing money at us is the key to everything,” he said. “As if money can cover the bill for absence.”
“Are you sure we’re not related?” I asked, looking at him.
He visibly cringed. “We are definitely NOT related, Lyla James.”
I bit my lip and looked out the window again to keep from laughing. “Maybe we should start a ‘poor little rich kids with absent asshole fathers club.’”
“I’m not rich. Well, I guess I am to some people’s standards. Definitely not yours,” he said, shooting an amused look in my direction. “But I’ll be part of your club anyway.”
“Well, now you’re going to have to try out.”
