“Oh c’mon, man. Just one picture.”
“No. And you’re lucky we aren’t pressing charges.”
I’m shocked it took this long for a journalist to make a move. And for it not to be for Charlotte or Ellie, but Blake’s mom? That is a surprise. Clearly the guy isn’t from England because a shot of Charlotte or Ellie would’ve gotten him a lot more.
At least I know my men are on top of it.
I take my time getting back to the main lodge. It’s not like I have anything to rush back to. Walking away from Layla last night had been the last thing I wanted to do.
But when Brad and Mrs. Bush—fucking wankers—blew everything up, they took the woman I knew with them.
The Layla I know wouldn’t have backed down like that. Hell, maybe I never knew her at all.
Guests are starting to make their way back to the where the ceremony will be held. Pierce and Charlotte are sitting on the wraparound porch watching their kids play with their cousins.
“Is this what you two are going to look like in your old age?” The porch creeks under my weight as I cross over to where they are.
Pierce kisses the back of Charlotte’s hand. “I don’t know, mate. I wouldn’t mind spending more time out here.”
“We won’t be bringing Simon back, that’s for sure,” Charlotte mutters.
“What was that?” I stick my ear closer to her.
I heard every word she said.
“I’m mad at you,” Charlotte hisses. She looks as lovely as she always does, dressed in a soft blue dress with a tie around the neck. It’s something I’ve seen her wear before. “How could you lie to us?”
“We didn’t want to. But I would do it again to help Layla.”
“Holy shit.”
“What?”
Charlotte pins me with a fierce stare.
“You love her.”
“Hey!” Pierce chimes in. “I already told you that.”
“You can be a bit daft sometimes on love, my dear. I love you, but I had to see it for myself.”
“I was right though.”
“Aww, do you want a biscuit?” I ask him.
“Biscuits? Can we have some?” Jane pops her head up from where she’s playing in the yard. “Please, Mummy?”
“There will be cupcakes later. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you have two.”
“Yes!”
“Back to the point. You love Layla,” Charlotte tells me.
“Correct.”
“And what are you going to do about it?” Charlotte tips one eyebrow up. The look she is giving me is one I don’t want to be on the receiving end of.
“What is there to do? Her entire life is here.”
