15. LAYLA
15
LAYLA
If you had told me a year ago that I’d be here, falling hard and fast for a man like Valentino Marchetti, I would have laughed in your face.
Love was something that happened in movies, fairy tales, or to people much luckier than me. Love was a concept I had always kept at arm’s length, watching from the sidelines as others found it, basked in it, and sometimes, shattered beneath it.
It wasn’t for me.
But this weekend? When Valentino looked into my eyes, whispered those words, confessed without hesitation…
It was like the ground beneath me shifted.
Had I expected it? No.
Was it a good idea? Absolutely not.
Was I letting myself fall deeper for him, despite everything? A resounding yes.
And that was terrifying.
Because what happens when the deal ends? What happens when he realizes the one thing I’ve been keeping from him all along?
The secret that could tear everything apart.
I shake my head, forcing myself out of the storm of thoughts, focusing on something else. My boutique.
The scent of fresh paint and polished wood fills the air as I step back, taking in the boutique with fresh eyes. The transformation is nothing short of incredible, a true labor of love.
Three weeks ago, this place had been a disaster. Water damage had warped the floors, the walls were stained with ugly streaks, and the shelves had been falling apart at the seams.
Now? Now, it’s my dream brought back to life.
The once cracked, faded walls are now coated in a soft, elegant ivory, reflecting the warm glow of the recessed lighting above. I had the ceiling redone, swapping out the old yellowing fluorescent lights for gold-rimmed fixtures that cast a beautiful, inviting glow throughout the shop.
The floors that were warped and dull, have been replaced with rich oak planks, their polished surface gleaming under the lights. The wood brings a warmth to the space that makes it feel cozy, yet upscale.
I run my fingers along the custom-built shelving units that now line the walls, replacing the rickety, unstable ones I had before. They’re made of light ash wood, sleek and minimalistic, designed to display each gown like a work of art.
In the center of the boutique, a stunning glass display case houses my most intricate designs, with delicate spotlights highlighting the delicate beading, hand-stitched lace, and flowing chiffon that adorn each dress. My dresses. My designs. My work.
And then there’s the fitting area.
I had the old, cramped fitting rooms demolished entirely and replaced them with spacious, curtained alcoves, each one equipped with a full-length mirror framed in gold, plush seating for guests, and elegant sconces casting a soft, flattering glow.
It feels luxurious. It feels like a boutique worthy of the women who step through its doors.
My boutique. My dream.
I’ve poured every penny of the money Valentino gave me into this place, and it shows.
A part of me is still in disbelief, would I ever have been able to do this without him?
The thought makes my chest tighten.
The soft chime of the doorbell rings, and when I look up, my mother walks in, Vincent bouncing along beside her.
His laughter fills the room, bright and innocent, his small hands clutching his favorite coloring book and a juice box. He immediately settles into the corner like it’s his personal little world, flipping open the pages, already lost in his sketches.
I’m so glad he looks like he’s feeling better.
My mother, however, has a look in her eyes that tells me she’s here for answers.
“This place looks amazing, Layla.” Her sharp gaze sweeps over the boutique. “It’s like a whole new shop. If I hadn’t seen the water damage myself, I wouldn’t even believe this was the same space.”
I smile, but deep down, I know it’s more than just the contractors. It’s him.
If it weren’t for Valentino, this wouldn’t have been possible.
My mother crosses her arms, her lips twitching into a smirk. Here it comes.
“So… How was your weekend?”
I freeze, my mind racing.
What does she know?
“Vincent told me.” She watches me closely.
My stomach drops. “Told you what?”
“About your special friend you introduced him to.”
Shit.
My mother leans in, pure amusement dancing in her eyes. “Valentino, was it?”
I glare at Vincent, who is happily coloring, completely unaware that he just outed me.
Lucky kid, not a care in the world. We’re going to have to talk about the things we don’t tell Nonna when we get home.
I groan, rubbing my temples. “I should’ve known I couldn’t keep anything from you.”
She laughs. “You really think you can outsmart your own mother? Please. I have my ways.”
I sigh, bracing myself. “Okay, what do you want to know?”
She shrugs, pretending to be nonchalant. “Oh, nothing much. Just... everything.”
I let out a groan. “Of course.”
“Come on.” She nudges me teasingly. “Let’s talk over coffee. This is too juicy to waste standing here.”
Vincent and I have no choice but to follow her to the café next door, knowing damn well she won’t let this go.
The moment we sit down, she leans forward, eyes glinting with curiosity.
“Well? Start talking.”
I get Vincent to play in the area where other kids are gathered, while keeping a close eye on him.
I gaze back to my mom, tightening my grip around my coffee cup, feeling oddly nervous.
“My weekend was... good.”
My mother raises an eyebrow. “That’s it? Good? Layla, this mysterious man takes you on a weekend getaway, and all you have to say is good?”
I sigh, knowing there’s no escaping. “His name is Valentino. Valentino Marchetti.”
Her jaw nearly hits the table.
“A Marchetti? You’re dating a Marchetti?!”
I shift uncomfortably. “I guess you could say that.”
She stares at me like I just announced I was moving to Mars.
“You mean, the big wine family? Which one is he?”
I take a sip of coffee, trying to appear casual. “He’s the oldest son.”
My mother clutches her chest dramatically. “The heir? Layla, are you serious? That’s very good.”
I frown. “Why does it sound like you’re evaluating my life choices like a business transaction?”
She scoffs. “Because I am. And this sounds like a very smart investment.”
I nearly choke on my coffee. “Mom!”
“What? An oldest son? A businessman? Rich? Responsible? Handsome?” She shrugs. “Honestly, it’s about time you stopped wasting time on deadbeats.”
I sigh. “It’s not that simple.”
Her smile fades slightly. “Then what is it?”
I swallow, knowing exactly what she’s asking.
What are we?
What do I want us to be?
My voice is quiet when I answer. “We’re still figuring it out.”
“Still figuring it out?” My mom’s disapproval is blatant. “Layla, you need to be more careful. I just don’t understand your generation, and your…What do you call it? Situation somethings?”
“Situationships.” I laugh.
The idea of being in a situationship with the man who fathered my son is comical, almost.
“I do not understand it. In my time, a man would take his time to court a lady and make his intentions known. There was none of this nonsense that I see with young people today.”
I chuckle. “We’re not in the eighties anymore, Mom. People don’t immediately jump into lifelong commitments like that.”
She studies me for a long moment, and I brace myself for whatever lecture she’s about to give.
But instead, her voice softens. “I just want you to be careful. Love is… complicated. You need to be sure.”
I exhale slowly. “I know.”
“So, what does he think about Vincent? You have to be certain about these things, you know, have clarity at the beginning so that it doesn’t become a problem later.”
“Vincent is not a problem , Mom,” My tone turns serious.
“I didn’t mean it like that. Of course, Vincent is the biggest blessing. I’m just trying to gauge how serious your relationship has gotten.”
My fingers trace little circles along the rim of my coffee cup, as anger starts to build inside me. “You know, I don’t doubt that your advice is coming from the right place but… you really can’t speak much on this topic. You never even told me who my dad is.”
My words come out more accusative than intended, and I feel immediate regret when I see the sadness on my mom’s face.
Talking about my father has always been a difficult thing for the both of us. Even now, the rejection of his abandonment stings, despite me never getting the chance to know him.
“You know that situation was out of my control.”
“Out of your control? Was it also out of your control to decide to have a child with someone who wanted nothing to do with it once she was born?”
“Layla…” My mom reaches out, but I pull my hand away. “How many times have we talked about this already? You know that I am doing this for your own good.”
“That used to work on me when I was a kid, Mom. Now? I just feel like the biggest idiot, someone who doesn’t even know who their dad is.”
My mother has a certain way of shutting down when the topic of who my father is comes up.
“Layla, please. This is not the time for it.” My mom presses her lips together in a tight line.
I know that, as usual, she is not going to tell me anything.
“It never is, is it?” I sigh, setting my coffee cup down on the table. “Sorry mom. I’d better get back to work.”
“Layla, come on now…”
I leave the money for the coffee on the table and get up without saying goodbye to my mom. I give a tired-looking Vincent a kiss and tell him that I’ll be home soon.
I need to be away from her for a moment, just alone with my thoughts.
But then, I imagine the same scenario, twenty years from now. Except the angry person walking out of the café will be Vincent.
Why didn’t you ever tell me who my dad was, mom?
It’s then that I realize that my reaction was not just because I was angry at being abandoned, or that my mom has kept my dad’s identity from me to this day. It was because I see myself in this story where my mom is now.
Every day, the urge to tell Valentino grows stronger and stronger. I’m falling in love with him. He’ll understand it, right?
Or is this going to be the thing that breaks us apart?
***
I decide to take an early day, and head back straight to home instead. Vincent is with his babysitter, and he smiles up at me as soon as I walk in.
“My baby,” I coo softly, holding him in my arms. “Did you miss Mommy?”
He nods. “Mama, I made this.”
He pulls out a paper from behind him. It’s a family, a mom, a dad, and a baby.
Tears prick in my eyes as I finally set him down, holding the drawing with shaking hands.
“You drew this?”
“Uh-huh. It’s our family.” He grins, happy to show his masterpiece to me. “You, me, and Valentino.”
I let a tear fall from my eye.
Vincent is too innocent to know anything, but bless his little heart, he’s somehow already figured out who his dad is, without me ever even telling him.
It’s a bond that I would be a terrible person if I didn’t give it a chance to bloom.
I gently fold the drawing, and stuff it into my bag.
“Thank you, Vincent.” I kiss him on the top of his head.
He smiles, already distracted by his toys. He doesn’t know the impact he’s just had on me. Perhaps this was the final push I needed to come clean to Valentino.
***
A few hours later, I’m showered, relaxed, and tucked under my blankets when my phone screen lights up.
Valentino:
Free tonight?
I smile, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.
It’s past my bedtime…
My phone immediately rings.
I smirk, running a hand through my hair before picking up.
The second his face fills my screen, my stomach flutters.
"Past your bedtime? I wasn’t aware you had a curfew."
I grin, sinking into my pillows.
Some of us have to wake up early.
He tilts his head, smirking. "I’m sure you can spare some time for me.”
I bite my lip.
I already have.
“Not in person, no. It’s too late to meet. We can talk on call, though.”
“Well, it’s a bit hard to communicate what I’d rather be doing with you via a screen.”
I lean back on my bed, sinking into the mattress slightly. “What is that, then?”
“You know what I mean.”
I do, but it’s fun to tease him. “Mm, not sure if I do. You should try using your words.”
He immediately converts to a video chat.
A soft growl escapes his lips, and he gives me a once over, even though he can only see my face on the screen. “Is your hair wet?”
“Yeah, I just got out of a shower…”
“Just got out of it?” One eyebrow shoots up. “When, exactly?”
I can’t help but laugh at the specificity of his questions. “Like, ten minutes ago?”
“All I hear is that I should have called you ten minutes ago.” His voices drops lower. “That way I could have seen for myself what I’ve been imagining all day.”
I cross my legs, immediately aroused.
Is that all it takes for you, Layla? Seriously?
I guess so, when it’s someone as sexy as Valentino saying it to me.
“Well, too bad you missed out.”
“Did I, though? That’d be a real shame. I think we can still…” He meets my gaze. “Fix things.”
I gulp. “Like what?”
“You could start off by taking off that pretty little robe you have.” His words are direct, and I slide off the silk robe just to give him a sneaky view of my cleavage.
“Like this?”
“Good girl. But take it off, completely.”
My eyes wander over to the door. Locked.
Slowly, I slide out of my robe and position my phone so that he gets a glimpse of my body before quickly moving it back to my face.
“In the mood for being a tease, are you? Careful. Don’t make me come over there to finish this off myself.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I smirk. “I thought we were just talking.”
“Talking? Yes. But we both know that I’d already be inside you if I was there right now.”
Once again, I clench my legs close together, and my hand drifts right above them. “You’re the one who is being a tease right now.”
In a flash, his shirt is off, and my jaw nearly drops open as I look at his defined muscles. Even through the screen, he looks sexy enough to pounce.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this right now…” I try to backtrack, but my voice is full of doubt.
“I think we should,” he states. No, he commands. “Touch yourself for me.”
“Valentino… I…”
“Do it.”
My breath fastens, and I slowly open my legs, and begin moving my hand between them.
He never takes his eyes off me, even for a second.
I let out a ragged moan as I start to caress my clit.
“Now… Put your fingers inside you and show me how wet I make you.”
He’s being so crass that in normal situations, I would’ve never imagined myself listening to him. But right now, it’s like he has a hold on me that I cannot shake.
Slowly, I do as he asks.
“Good girl. Good fucking girl,” he says when he notices the change in my breathing. “How does it feel?”
“It feels…” I try and catch my breath. “It feels good.”
“Now imagine that it’s my cock filling you instead. Because it will be when I see you next time.”
My hips lift off the bed.
“That’s it, baby. From now on, every time you touch yourself, you’ll think about me.”
His words are so… possessive that it brings out some kind of a primal instinct inside of me, and I begin moving my fingers in and out faster than before.
“Like that. Keep going.”
“I….”
“Say my name,” he growls. “Whose cock do you want to have inside you right now?”
“Yours, only yours, V-Valentino.”
“That’s right.” Even though he is not physically here right now, the command that he has on me is enormous.
My mouth gapes slightly as I slide in another finger. “Fuck.”
“Good girl. Fuck yourself for me.”
“Va-Valentino, I… Oh God…”
The phone knocks out of my hand, and I collapse fully onto the mattress.
Did I really just cum? The wetness on my sheets and my fingers is a clear indication.
I gather the sheets around my chest before grabbing the phone again. Valentino is staring at me with the widest grin on his face.
“That was…” I try to catch my breath.
“Hot.”
“Embarrassing.”
We both say the words at the same time.
“Don’t be embarrassed, baby. It’s exactly what you need right now.”
I laugh, finally letting myself feel the lightheartedness of the moment. “You’re evil. Pure evil.”
“You just want me. And I don’t blame you. I’d cum, too, if you talked to me through it.”
My cheeks flush, and I shake my head. “I think I should go to bed now.”
“Can you come see me tomorrow?”
“I’ll let you do the planning. But for now, good night.”
He laughs. “I can’t wait till I have my hands on you.”
“Good night, Valentino.”
“Good night, baby.”
As I hang up the phone, my eyes drift over to the wet mess that I’ve created on my sheets.
All this, just over the phone?
I knew I had it bad. But tomorrow, I have a surprise for him.
Something that he won’t even see coming.