8. LAYLA
8
LAYLA
“Not bad for a few days of work, huh?” Giana nudges me, her proud grin contagious as we stand at the front of my shop.
Just seventy-two hours ago, this space was an absolute disaster, waterlogged, ruined. Now, it’s somewhat clean, organized, and on its way to being whole again.
I nod, exhaling a breath. “I’d say so.”
“Time to celebrate?” Giana wiggles her eyebrows.
I roll my eyes. “Not yet.”
Sometimes, I swear Giana is still in college mode, even though we’re both in our mid-twenties, her appetite for partying hasn’t waned one bit. I don’t know where she finds the energy.
“Okay, but soon?”
I laugh. “Hold your horses, G.”
Before she can argue, the contractor walks up, clipboard in hand. He looks over his notes before glancing at me.
“Now that the cleanup is finished, we can move on to the real work, rehabilitation.”
My stomach clenches. “And the final quote?”
“Well, to get started, we’ll need a deposit of thirty grand.”
Normally, that number would send me spiraling.
But now, with Valentino’s money, I can actually afford it.
I inhale sharply. “Send me a final figure, or as close as you can get to one today, and I’ll write you the check for the deposit.”
The contractor tips his hat and heads off, leaving me standing there, staring at the reality of it all. This is happening. I’m saving my shop.
Giana watches me with an amused expression. “You know, seeing you talk money with that guy just now… makes me wonder if you should start calling Valentino your sugar daddy.”
I shoot her a glare. “He’s definitely a daddy, but he doesn’t know that yet.”
Giana’s smirk falters. “Are you going to tell him soon?”
I tense. I don’t have an answer.
“G, can we not do this right now?”
She lifts her hands. “Fine, fine. No interrogation. Just… you know I care.”
I soften. “I know.”
Giana might be nosy, but she’s also my best friend. And the only person who’s been in my corner through everything.
What she doesn’t know, yet, is that my situation with Valentino isn’t just about money anymore.
She doesn’t know about our arrangement.
And she definitely doesn’t know that I slept with him. Again.
The thought alone makes my face heat up. I’ve tried not to think about that night, about the way his hands felt on me, the way his lips claimed mine like he never wanted to stop. But no matter how much I try to suppress it, my body still remembers.
It was a mistake.
Or at least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
I shake off the thoughts and grab my purse. “Coffee run. You want something?”
Her eyes brighten. “Oooh, an iced Americano, please.”
“You got it.”
I turn to leave, but before I can take a single step, Giana grabs my arm.
“Wait, wait, wait.” She narrows her eyes. “You’re being weird.”
I blink. “Weird how?”
“Weird like… you’re holding something back.” She tilts her head, scrutinizing me. “Something about him.”
I force out a laugh. “G, you’re reaching.”
“Am I?” She taps her chin, then gasps dramatically. “Oh, my God, you slept with him again, didn’t you?”
I stiffen. And that’s all the confirmation she needs.
She gasps louder, clutching my arm like I just told her I won the lottery. “You did! Holy shit, Layla!”
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Keep your voice down. Jesus.”
Instead of scolding me, she grins. “I knew something was up! The way you’ve been avoiding details? The way you were blushing just now? I knew you weren’t telling me the whole story.”
I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “G, can we not make a big deal out of this?”
“Are you kidding me? This is a huge deal!” She grabs my hands, shaking them. “First of all, congratulations, babe. You were in desperate need of some dick.”
I choke on air. “Oh, my God.”
She completely ignores my mortified expression. “Second of all, you and Valentino are obviously still hot for each other. So… does that mean you’re together now?”
I don’t respond right away.
Because the truth is… I don’t know.
But I don’t deny it.
And Giana notices.
She smirks. “So, you are together.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you didn’t not say that.”
I shake my head, chuckling. “You’re impossible.”
“You love me.” She grins. “Okay, serious question, though.”
I roll my eyes. “I swear, if it’s another comment about my sex life—”
“I was going to ask if he’s still as hung as a porn star, but seriously, are you going to tell him about Vincent?”
Just like that, my amusement vanishes.
My chest tightens, and my stomach twists into knots.
I glance at Vincent, who’s sitting across the room on the floor, playing with his toys, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside me.
The answer should be simple.
Yes. He has a right to know.
But my fear is louder than logic.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet Giana’s gaze. “I… I don’t know.”
She softens. “Layla…”
“I just…” I exhale, rubbing my temple. “I don’t know how to tell him. I don’t know when to tell him. What if he gets angry? What if he doesn’t want to be involved?”
Giana frowns. “You really think he’d walk away?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, G. I thought I knew him, but it’s been three years. People change.”
She sighs, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “Look, I can’t tell you what to do. But I can tell you this, keeping this a secret forever isn’t an option. Not for you, and definitely not for Vincent.”
I swallow the lump in my throat.
I know she’s right.
And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to stop running from the truth.
***
Lorenzo’s Café is packed when I arrive, as expected. Being so close to the college campus, it’s always buzzing with students and caffeine addicts around this time of day.
As I stand in line, a woman catches my eye.
She’s impossible not to notice. Tall, elegant, with sleek raven-black hair pulled into a tight bun. She wears a tweed blazer and a perfectly tailored skirt, the kind of outfit you only see on women who ooze wealth and power.
She looks like she stepped out of a Vogue spread, standing out like a sore thumb in this town.
I’m staring for too long, because suddenly, she crashes into me.
“Oh, sorry,” I stammer, stepping back.
She barely spares me a glance, her lipstick-painted lips curling into a scowl. “Watch it.”
Her voice is smooth but clipped, like I’m beneath her notice. Then, with an air of detached indifference, she strides out of the café.
Well, okay then.
I brush it off, get my coffee, and head back to drop off Giana’s before heading home.
***
The moment I step into my apartment, I slip into my makeshift studio, eager to work.
The familiar hum of my sewing machine and the scent of fabric soothe my nerves.
It’s been a while since I’ve worked from home, having a proper shop spoiled me. But there’s something about being in this space that brings me back to my early days, college nights spent hunching over fabric, sketching until dawn, armed with nothing but a cheap sewing machine and a dream.
Soft jazz music plays in the background, Coltrane, Armstrong, the classics.
This is my happy place.
The dress I’m working on is for a wedding in three months. The bride wants a blend of modern trends and traditional elegance, a fun, creative challenge.
I run my fingers over the delicate lace bodice, checking the sheer sleeves I’ve carefully sewn tiny pearls into. The skirt flows in layers, airy and romantic.
I pause, admiring my work.
Then, for a brief, dangerous second, my mind slips.
I see myself at an altar, in this very dress, my heart pounding. A tall, broad-shouldered man stands beside me, his eyes locked on mine, filled with an intensity that sets my soul on fire.
I recognize the man.
Valentino.
What the hell?
I jerk back, snapping myself out of the insane daydream.
No. Absolutely not.
It’s one thing to pretend to be his girlfriend, it’s another thing entirely to daydream about it.
But the thought lingers.
Damn him.
The doorbell rings, pulling me from my thoughts.
I answer to find my mother holding Vincent in her arms.
“Hi, love,” she greets, her voice warm.
Vincent giggles tiredly, reaching for me.
“Hey, my little star.” I scoop him up, pressing kisses to his soft cheeks. “Thanks for watching him, Mom.”
She settles onto the couch. “Oh, please. How many times do I have to tell you? I’m his grandmother, I love spending time with him.”
Vincent crawls onto the carpet, and lays down, cuddling his elephant toy, as my mom watches me carefully.
“How’s the shop?”
I hesitate. “It’s… getting better. I found a way to fund the repairs.”
Her brow lifts slightly, but she doesn’t press for details.
Instead, she leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “You won’t believe the gossip going around.”
I sigh. “Mom, you know I don’t do gossip.”
She ignores me, her eyes gleaming. “There’s big drama in town. A Marchetti relative is stirring up trouble.”
I still.
“Marchetti?” I try to sound casual, but my pulse quickens.
She nods. “Apparently, the land their vineyard is built on? It might’ve been bought fraudulently.”
I sit up straighter. “Fraudulently?”
She shrugs. “If it’s true, they could lose everything.”
My stomach drops.
If the Marchetti empire collapses, what happens to the Vineyard. It’s been key in keeping the town lively with hundreds of tourists a month wanting to catch a glimpse of its magic.
And what happens to my arrangement with Valentino? There won’t be anything left of his company to run and there will be nothing I can do to keep my shop alive.
I force my face into neutrality, but inside, I’m panicking.
After my mother leaves, Vincent seems to perk up a bit, and I decide to take him outside for fresh air, trying to clear my head.
I point to the stars, guiding Vincent’s gaze. “See that? That’s Orion’s Belt.”
His head is on my shoulder, as if it is too heavy for him to lift it up, but he looks up fascinated, even though he doesn’t understand.
I watch him, my heart aching.
No matter what happens, I have to protect him.