Chapter 5
As much as Layla tried, it seemed her protestations of innocence were a waste of breath more than anything else. Still, she felt she had to try. She knew she didn’t steal the Desolation Stone, whatever that was, and she couldn’t just sit by while some grumpy investigator sent her to prison for something she didn’t do.
“Seriously,” she told him for what felt like the hundredth time. “I didn’t steal anything. I’m only here because Darina invited me to stay with her, but I don’t even know what the Desolation Stone is. I didn’t even know there was such a thing. I mean, did you?”
The words were all beginning to blur together now, she’d said them so many times. But what else could she do? She figured she had to keep trying. She’d protest until her throat was sore and her words ran out.
Layla gave the alien warrior a pleading look, hoping for some kind of understanding, some kind of mercy. His violet eyes were cold, though, and soon they were topped by a furrowed brow that told her she definitely wasn’t getting through to him.
“Look,” he said, his deep voice practically vibrating through the room. “I appreciate your plight, but my job is to prove you’re guilty and arrest you. As soon as I’ve done that, I can go back home. Where I like it.”
His eyes were set, and Layla let out a heavy sigh, keenly aware that the investigator in him was unrelenting. As she looked into his eyes, though, she saw the soul underneath, and something in him shifted. It was almost imperceptible, but she’d know it anywhere. It was a brief glimpse of carnal, unquenchable, undeniable lust.
She was all too familiar with that look. Back on Earth she’d had men look her up and down wherever she went. They’d run their eyes along her curvy frame, lingering on her ass and breasts for as long as they thought they could get away with. She hadn’t enjoyed it much then, but now, in the Lorr prince’s company, she saw how she might be able to use it to her advantage.
Besides, she couldn’t help but find the violet-skinned warrior incredibly attractive. She had already had visions of him taking her right there, as insane as it felt to her. She liked her men to be chiseled, masculine, and tall. At what she guessed to be nearly seven feet, Zyair definitely fit the bill. She just had to hope he was into petite, curvy, insatiable brunettes—ones who had no gag reflex and lots of practice at making use of its lack.
Looking up at him with her eyelashes lowered a little, Layla shifted tactics, determined to connect with the masculine being in there, the one she knew was surging with lust. Not the buttoned-up investigator. She could undo those buttons pretty quickly if she put her mind to the task.
“You know,” she said, leaning over the desk in a way she knew would show off her ample, cavernous cleavage. “I really respect what you do. It must require a lot of skill to track down criminals and solve cases like this.”
She flashed him a sunny smile and could see Zyair’s pupils dilate ever so slightly. She even caught him glancing toward her chest, and his desire to look proved so strong that he couldn’t overcome it, despite his urge to hide it. He kept going back for more.
It sent a thrill through her, even though she knew she was only flirting with him to get out of a sticky situation. With any luck, she could make it stickier. One mess might free her from this one, she thought.
“It’s hard work, but it’s honest, being an investigator,” he replied. Layla noticed some of the edge had come out of his voice. “As long as I get the perpetrator in the end.”
Layla nodded, noticing that he seemed to take genuine pride in his work. It touched something in her. Maybe he really was more than just a hard-shelled pessimist. She could use that.
“Well, I’m one hundred percent with you on that,” she said, still smiling. “That’s what I came here to do—good honest work—and I promise you, I had nothing to do with the missing stone. If you let me, maybe I can even help you.”
She sent an intentionally long, lingering look up and down Zyair’s body, hoping he knew exactly what she was implying. She inched closer, hoping he could get a whiff of her scent. Some alien species could sniff out desire like a shark with a drop of blood, and she hoped the Lorr were among them.
When she met his eyes again, she bit her lip ever so slightly and watched him shift back in his chair with visible discomfort. Layla could only imagine what he must have in his pants to cause him to scoot back like that, as if he suddenly needed to hide something.
“Well, um,” he began, and for a moment, she saw a crack in his controlled demeanor that until that point had been impenetrable. “I appreciate the offer but you know the investigation would be compromised if I accepted your… help.”
Layla flashed him another warm smile and bent over more, squeezing her biceps close into her chest and making her cleavage pop. She was enjoying his attempts to remain professional, especially since it was obvious he was attracted to her. She only hoped it was enough to get him to listen to her and to see the truth—that she was innocent.
“Zyair,” she said, leaning further forward. This time it wasn’t to entice him with her cleavage, though, but to look him right in the eye. “I really am innocent. I’m not asking you for any favors or anything other than what your own principles dictate. I just want you to do honest work and find who really did this. And who knows—when you figure out that it wasn’t me, maybe we could be friends.”
At that, Layla saw him nearly crack a smile. She almost purred the last word, extending it on her tongue for a long time. He leaned over the table, too, bringing his face less than a foot from hers. She could feel the warmth of his breath, see the flecks of amethyst in his eyes, smell the scent of his violet skin, and sense the tension between them.
Involuntarily, she dropped her gaze to his lips—full lips that were slightly parted, revealing the moisture of his mouth—and for a second, she hoped he was going to kiss her.
Instead, he spoke. “I don’t know about finding you innocent,” he said, his voice low and almost sultry. “That’s still up in the air. I do get the sense we’ll be spending a lot of time together, though. But I should warn you, I’m not the friendliest guy.”
Even though his expression didn’t change, Layla could tell this was the closest thing to a joke she’d heard from him all afternoon. It was also definitely some kind of flirtation and proof that she was breaking down his walls, little by little. At his words, her lips curved into another smile.
“Well then, let’s start as friendly acquaintances and see where things progress from there. Shall we?” She looked at him suggestively, with the look of someone who had just rubbed against him.
Zyair raised an eyebrow, breaking the knitted-brow look he’d worn since she stepped into the room.
“I guess I could do that,” he told her. “Though, you know if I find you guilty, all bets are off.”
Layla almost chuckled, leaning back to give him a view of her body and knowing already that he clearly wanted all of it. His gaze ran over her, and this time, he didn’t appear to be hiding his interest. She could see it visibly, saluting her inside his pants, straining to break free.
“Trust me, you won’t find me guilty,” she said confidently. “I didn’t commit the crime, which means there can’t be anything to prove that I did it.”
At this, though, Zyair furrowed his brow again and Layla got the impression she may have spoken too soon.