The doorbell rings, and my stomach leaps into my throat. They’re here. Or at least one of them. Axelle calls out that she’ll get it, and I race to the mirror to check my makeup one last time. I shake my fingers through my hair. I’m wearing it loose and wild, just the way Blake likes it. The red lipstick is in the lines, and there’s none on my teeth. I take a deep breath and move from my room when I hear the rumble of a deep voice. Halfway down the hallway, I freeze. I know that voice. It’s familiar and terrifying.
Icy fear torpedoes through my veins. My stomach flips and threatens to unload. Tremors rattle my legs, and I brace myself against the wall to keep upright. No. It can’t be.
I walk my hands down the length of the hall to the kitchen. My legs are numb, and my heart’s racing. Peeking around the corner, I’m met with the dark eyes of my worst nightmares.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Laylay.”
Blake
This is it. My first official formal date. Ever. Or, at least the first one I’m excited about. I’ve accompanied girls to formal parties, even dragged a few to some of the shit we have to do for the UFL, but I was always rushing through the date to the hook up afterwards.
Tonight is different.
Yeah, I’m still stoked as hell to use my woman’s gorgeous body as my own playground of sexual pleasure until the sun comes up or she passes out from exhaustion. But I’m also proud as hell to take her out on my arm. Sit across from her at dinner and talk about nothing but laugh about everything. Give her a Valentine’s Day experience that makes up for her never having one.
The box in my pants pocket warms my thigh. It took me three days total to plan for a few hours out. After finding the fanciest restaurant in Vegas, and shit there’s a lot of them, I decided I should get her a gift. I want her to have something to remember this night. I called Jonah, and when he was finished laughing his ass off and saying I told you so in a variety of different ways, he told me I should get jewelry. Good thing I asked, or she’d have ended up with a pair of crotchless panties.
Raven met me at the mall, and she dragged me to Tiffany’s and helped me pick out a simple silver chain bracelet with a small heart charm hanging from it. It’s tiny and delicate, just like Layla.
After the jewelry, she pulled me into a men’s clothing store. I told her I had plenty of suits, but she said since it’s a first it calls for something new. That sounds like a bunch of chick bullshit to me. I groaned at the mention of wearing a pink tie, but I’m glad I indulged her. It looks sick as shit with my black shirt and suit.
After a last round of cortisone shots this afternoon, I’m feeling great. My back feels like it’s packed with cotton. No cramping or even a hint of pain. I make a quick shake and down it, along with my pills. Won’t want to be worrying about those when I get back here tonight all ready to get nak*d with my woman. I check the clock and internally high-five myself for my timing.
Minutes later, I’m in the Rubicon, listening to music and on my way to Layla’s. I pull into the lot, but don’t see Killian’s car yet. I know Layla will want to wait to leave until he picks up Axelle. I take the light-blue box from my pants and put it into my glove box. My feisty woman has been known to cop a feel when no one’s looking, and I don’t want her to find it too early.
I grab my suit jacket and take my time putting it on and straightening my tie. Taking two steps at a time, I head up to her door. It’s right before I reach it that something in the parking lot catches my eye.
The silver sedan.
But this time it’s not running, and there’s no one in it. My blood pounds in my ears. I scan the parking lot for paparazzi. Nothing looks suspicious, but those sneaky f**kers are great at hiding in places you’d never find them.
I take a deep breath. It was dark the first time I saw the sedan. Maybe this is a different car. I flex my fists to release the burning tension that’s gathered there. No need to show up at Layla’s door looking like a heaving bull.
I’ll make sure to keep my eye out tonight. As long as Layla keeps her top on this time, a few shots of us together won’t hurt.
Stepping to the door, I ring the bell and wait.
Huh, maybe they didn’t hear it? I ring it again and follow it up with a knock.
The lock clicks on the door, and I swallow back my nerves. The door cracks open to reveal Axelle.
I suck in a breath. “Wow, kiddo. You look like a princess.”
She resembles a high school cupid in a red dress that skims her ribs and then flares out to her knees. Her long chestnut hair is curled and falling over her shoulders. A tiny clip with shiny shit on it pulls some of her hair to the side and off her face. Her big blue eyes are… is she crying?
“Axelle, what’s going on? Are you…” My blood turns to sludge as my temper flares. “Did Killian cancel on you? I swear to God, if that fu—”
“No, no, he didn’t. He’s probably on his way.” Her eyes shift slightly over her shoulder before she catches herself and moves them back. “Um… I’m sorry, Blake, but uh… Mom’s not feeling well, and uh…”
Hold the f**k on. What? “Your mom’s sick?” I peek over Axelle’s head into the apartment. “Is she okay? She seemed fine when I talked to her.”
Her body squeezes in tighter so that the door and frame sandwich her in. “Yeah it hit, like, suddenly, and she’s… well, she can’t go out tonight. She said she’d call you when she felt better.” Her eyes are shifting and not meeting mine.
She’s f**king lying.
“Axelle.”
Now her eyes dart to mine. A moment of fear flashes behind them. She knows I’m on to her.
“I thought we were being honest. No lies, remember?”
Her throat bobs as she swallows and bites her lip. My pulse is pounding. Every muscle is coiled tight.
Her eyes stare beyond my shoulder. “She’s sick.”
Dammit, why is she lying?
Ripping this f**king door down and storming in certainly won’t help, and if she is sick, I’ll look like a controlling a**hole. I switch up tactics. “Let me pop in, make sure she doesn’t need anything, and then I’ll take off.” I’m impressed with how convincing I sound.
She shakes her head a little too quickly. “No, I can’t. I promised. She made me promise not to let you in because she’s, like, throwing up and uh… she’s embarrassed.”
Fuck, this kid’s a shitty liar. “Axelle, let me—”
“Just go, Blake. She’ll call you. I promise. But, you have to leave. Now.” She pushes back to close the door, and I hold my hand out to stop it.
I lean in and whisper. “Kiddo, what the f**k is going on? You think I don’t know that you’re lying through your teeth? I want to see her. Just to make sure she’s okay. If she tells me to leave, I’ll go.”
Her eyes brim with tears. My heart cramps and dissolves a fraction of the anger that boils just below the surface.
“Hold on,” she whispers and shuts the door.
I stand there counting and picturing fuzzy baby animals to avoid going ten kinds of Hulk on the front door.
Layla knows me better than to think I’m going to walk away with a simple brush off from Axelle. I don’t know what’s going on—maybe she really is sick. All I know is I’m not moving a motherf**king inch until I hear it from her mouth.
Impatient, I reach for the door and twist. Locked? I pull out my key just as the door inches open.
My heart slams into my ribs so hard I stumble back a step. Layla is dressed in a fire red dress that she wears like a second skin. Her honey-colored br**sts are pushed up and overflowing at the top, while the bottom cuts off just inches below her perfectly round ass. And to top it off, she’s wrapped in a big red bow. I feel my hand splayed over my chest before I realize I’d put it there. “You… you’re…” I blow out a long breath and blink to make sure I’m not seeing things.
“Blake, I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well.”
Her words bring me back. I fix my eyes on her, and damn if her body in that dress killed me, her face and hair just buried me. “Mouse, you look like an angel.”
She doesn’t blush. No smile, not even a twitch of her lips. This isn’t my Layla. “I’m sick, Blake. We’ll uh… I’ll take a rain check, okay?”
I rub my head and tug at as much hair as I can fit between my fingers. “I don’t get what’s going on. Axelle’s lying to me, you’re f**king lying to me. Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”
Wait, why won’t they let me in the house? A fiery rage explodes behind my ribs. My vision blurs, and I step back. “Who’s in there, Layla?” My growled words are the first thing that gets a response.
Her eyes grow wide, and her jaw falls open. “Why would you say that?” The pitch of her voice is unusually high.
“Move away from the door.”
“Blake, no—”
“Who the f**k is in there?” Fuck this. I slam into the door and stumble into the tiny kitchen.
“Blake, no.” She grabs my arm and I shrug her off easily.
Kitchen’s empty. I move to the living room, where Axelle’s standing hunched over, her elbows locked to her sides, her hands balled together tight. What in the motherf**king hell is going on here?
There’s movement from the hallway that catches me off guard. I spin around fast.
A man saunters toward me with the confidence of a f**king royal. “You lost, boy?”
Twenty-seven
Blake
I move fast and unthinking. On pure possessive instinct, I’m inches from the guys face. “Who the f**k you calling ‘boy’?” I spit my words through clenched teeth.
“Blake, no,” Layla says from the kitchen doorway.
A whimpering sob comes from Axelle’s direction in the living room.
“It’s okay, Elle. Your mother’s little toy was just leaving.” He swings his gaze from Axelle back to me. “Weren’t you, boy?”
He called Axelle, Elle. This is Stew, the cocksucker who ruined my woman’s life. The one who belittled her, embarrassed her, f**ked her against her will. Rage, hot and welcome, floods my body. I’ve been waiting for this day. My fists clench, and my heart races to throw the first punch. It’s time to teach Stew a lesson.
He’s a dead man.
I put my nose inches from his, which isn’t hard. The dickhead’s my size in height and not far behind in weight. “You’ve got one chance to step outside with me. One. Chance. You pass it up, I’ll drag your ass out of here. But you and I are going to settle this man to man, whether you like it or not.”
Stew smiles and chuckles. “Oh, that’s funny. Laylay, you didn’t tell me how funny your little friend is.”
He moves toward Layla with an outstretched arm. Her body visibly tenses.
“Don’t f**king touch her,” I roar.
He lifts his eyebrows. “Excuse me, but I’ll touch my wife if I damn well please.”