Either the alcohol makes him courageous, or he’s just plain fucking dumb because he makes a fist. I hit his face before he decides his next move or reassesses the situation. The bouncer picks him up, knocks him down again with a powerful blast to his ribs, then hauls his ass out of the club.
“Lay, Laylee,” Layla says, ignoring the last minute as if it never happened. “He always called me that.”
“Laysounds like something you clean the shower with. Don’t let people call you that.” I lead her back to the girls, but she walks around them, following me upstairs.
“Am I imagining things, or were you jealous?” She asks, failing to conceal the excitement.
“You’ll get used to it.” I press my lips against her temple. “Go sit down. I’ll get your lemonade.”
The bartender appears when my elbows touch the countertop. “Another round?”
“Yeah, send the waitress over but give me a glass of lemonade now.”
Layla’s in the booth, her shoulders back, chin raised, eyes shooting daggers at Luca when I approach. “You’re mistaking me for someone who cares what you think,” she says. “But just so you know, the guy Dante knocked out bumped into him by accident. It wasn’t my fault.” She snatches the lemonade out of my hand.
A slow glow of anger works its way up from under Luca’s collar. “All just a big coincidence, isn’t it? The thing is, everything turns to shit when you’re around. What’s wrong with you?”
“Never ending story.” She rolls her eyes. “You want a list?”
“I won’t sugar coat it for you just because you’re dating the boss. Idon’ttrust you.”
“I ordered a mojito, not your opinion, Luca.”
That one sentence sends my desire through the roof. I’m absolutely wild with the feral need to claim her body. Layla tucks her hair behind her ears, casually sipping through the twirly straw, and I can’t focus on anything other than being inside her.
“You think you’re so crafty?” Luca snaps. “You’re all talk.”
“Of course, I’m all talk!” Layla slams her hands on the table. “You thought I’d fight you?”
Everyone at the table looks between Layla and Luca as if they’re watching Roger Federer play against Rafael Nadal. Everyone’s expressions make it clear I’m not the only one in awe of her or annoyed with him.
“Dating the boss doesn’t mean you can disrespect his people,” he growls, determined to get ahead.
Layla squeezes my hand again as if sensing my patience wearing thin. “It doesn’t mean you can disrespect me, either.”
“Respect has to be earned.”
“Exactly. Next time when you’re on your period, let me know. I’ll get you pain relief. Are you done for the night, or do you have something creative you’d like to add? I’d like to go back downstairs.”
“You better don’t fucking move, or someone else will get their face smashed.”
“If you don’t shut up, it’ll be you,” I snap.
Layla clipping his wings is amusing to watch, but enough is enough. Luca glares at me for a moment as if debating whether to keep talking, but he decides against it and lights a cigarette, sparking a conversation with Jackson.
I pull Layla closer, lowering my voice. “Go, Star. Join the girls, or I’ll take you home.”
She grips her waist, pinning me down with a forceful stare. “Excuseme, but I won’t let him use me as his punching bag. I can go home, no problem, but don’t count on me keeping quiet if you want me to stay.”
“The way you hurt his ego is far more painful than my right hook. You’re beyond sexy when you’re aggressive. If I keep listening to you hiss, I’ll take you home, and I won’t give a fuck if you’re ready or not, so go join the girls.”
A cheeky, slightly shy smile curves her lips. She pecks my cheek, letting her lips linger on my skin a little longer before she walks away without another word. I watch her hips sway until a random guy blocks the view.
“What’s your problem with her?” I ask Luca, readjusting my position to disguise the apparent bulge in my pants.
“It took five minutes, and someone got knocked out because of her. Saturdays are our time to unwind, Dante. Her stupid ideas don’t fucking help.”
“Since when do you care if someone gets fucked up?”