“Is that right?” I move closer, every step calculated, muscles in my back harder than stone. “Try and stop me.”
“I’ve got orders to shoot.” He reaches behind him, feeling the belt of his trousers to retrieve his gun.
Rookie’s faster. He pulls out his pistol with a laid-back, almost bored expression. He’s the youngest one in my main entourage, just three years Layla’s senior, but he’s the best driver I’ve ever had. I hired him a few years back when I attended an illegal race organized by one of our many clients. He wasn’t just way ahead of the competition, winning the race by a landslide, but he was also completely relaxed. No signs of stress on his face. He’s a natural.
“I’ll give you a valuable piece of advice, so try and keep up,” he says. “Don’t ever stand between him,” he nods in my direction, “and anything he wants.”
Burly stumbles back a few steps, pressing his back against the door leading to the dance room.
Determination worth applause.
Stupidity worth pity.
I glance back at Layla when the song’s about to end. She takes to the air, wrapping her arms and legs around her partner, and hides her face in his neck. A jab of envy pokes me right in the gut. He lets her go only to catch her thigh and arm, stopping her pretty face mere inches off the floor as the room falls silent. He lays her down, then offers a hand, helping her up. That’s when she sees me.
Her cheeks blush, and her body freezes in surprise. It takes one heartbeat before she regains her composure, gesturing to the door Burly protects with his life. I stand there, completely frozen, waiting for my legs to start working again. Layla’s dance partner drapes a small towel over her neck and hands her a water bottle.
Using a second of my inattention, Burly takes a chance at getting to Layla before me. He stops at the sound of safety being flipped on a gun.
Mygun.
“You think you can take her away from me?” I hiss, aiming at the back of his head. “Don’t fucking touch her, or I’ll skin you alive.”
Two sleepless nights and the long hours spent thinking about Layla kicked my possessiveness up a notch. There’s no way I’ll let him anywhere near her right now. I’ll kill him, risking the silent war between Frank and me turning into something much more sinister.
Burly steps aside, resting against the wall, hands in the air and the gun pointed at the ceiling.
Layla’s partner exits the room when I enter. I cross the dance floor to where she stands, cheeks heated, breathing on the quick side. My hands disappear in her hair, and I close the distance that parted our lips too long. She slips her tongue in my mouth with a quiet sigh, clasping her hands over my nape. Warmth radiates off her when our mouths work in sync, mimicking the rhythm of their dance.
“Good morning to you too,” she says, stepping away. “How did you find me here?”
“There’s no place in this city where you can hide from me, Star. Your phone’s switched off.”
She takes another step back, so I can’t reach her. The desperate need to feel connected to another person, satisfied by my touch, means she doesn’t trust her reason when I’m close. “You should stop stalking me, Dante.”
The last thing I expect after she just fucking kissed me like there’ll be no tomorrow is rejection. I push away the surprise, watching the tone of my voice. “I want you to trust your gut, not listen to your father.”
“That’s what I’m doing.”
“No. You’re not. You’re doing what Frank wants.”
She hugs her frail frame, lifting her head in a fake display of courage. “And I should do what you want? I don’t trust either of you, but if I take someone’s word, it won’t be yours.” She’s not shouting. She’s calm, and that scares me most because I know she means every word. “You have too many reasons to hurt me. Frank has none.”
In theory, it’s true. Mercy was a foreign concept to me until recently. I used all means available to get my way, but Layla’s an exception. She’s untouchable. Off-limits. Swapping her for North would take less than half an hour. It would eliminate Frank from the picture without killing him. The flaw in the otherwise perfect plan is that there’s no way I’d use Layla as bait. I’m not sure what I want from her, but I crave her like a starving man craves food. Still, imagining our relationship with her constant need for closeness is beyond my capability.
“You should do what you feel is right. It’s not quantum physics, Star. You either want me, or you don’t.”
She stands there, silent, eyes on me but not seeing me at all. My hands grow damp for the first time in years.
“It was the best weekend of my life...” She inhales deeply, biting her lip, “...and we’ll leave it at that.”
Thirty seconds ago, I wasn’t sure what I wanted from her. Now I only wanther.
My jaw ticks while I fight paranoia.
She crosses her arms over her chest, the feistiness acting as a defense mechanism. “I don’t trust you. I want to, but I have no reason to. I don’t believe you could be interested inme.Not so fast. You don’t even know me.”
I expected many things, but this? This is fucking bullshit. What does time have to do with any of this? Since when does attraction have a set timeline? Why do people think ‘too soon’? Why? Because it’s not socially acceptable? Because people won’t approve?