Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Leila’s POV
Damn the universe for always finding ways to drag me back to Manhattan.
I pounded on the steel door of the syndicate’s lair, my patience already wearing thin. Their payment for the week was due. Elena had billed for the second installment for the job, and I wanted to pay two weeks ahead.
I’d tried transferring it to the usual account, only to find it had been shut down. I called Blaze—three times. But the piece of shit didn’t answer. The last thing I needed was for me or Ollie to get harassed because of their incompetence. So here I was. Again. Against my entire will.
The metal slot scraped open, and Blaze’s familiar eyes flashed through it. When he saw me, they narrowed to slits. He slammed it shut. A second later, the door swung open, and he stalked out holding a bottle of liquor in his hand.
“What the hell do you still want here?” he barked.
He was unusually furious today. I figured it had something to do with the bandage strapped over his swollen nose. Someone must’ve clocked him good. Rattled his ego. Now he was looking for someone to bleed it out on.
I couldn’t help the flicker of satisfaction curling in my chest. Blaze had given me nothing but hell the past year, and I would pay good money to see his ass handed to him—if not for the consequences.
“The account is frozen,” I said flatly. “You weren’t picking your calls. So, I came to make the payment for the week. Wouldn’t want you showing up in my house again, threatening my son.”
He let out a laugh—sharp and bitter. “Did you come here to mock me?”
I arched a brow. “Trust me, I have better things to do with my time. Now, could you please point me to whoever’s handling the accounts so I don’t have to make the inconvenient journey down here again?”
“That’s what this is, right?” His eyes darkened. “You came to rub it in my face. Fuck you, Leila.”
He snapped his arm toward me like he meant to strike.
But then he froze halfway, as though he remembered something.
I could see fear and frustration flicker in his gaze.
His hand hovered mid-air for a beat, then dropped.
His jaw clenched. “Get the hell out. Before I do something we will both regret.”
“I’m not the reason you’re in a pissy mood, Blaze. If you’re not going to talk, then direct me to someone who will.”
He stepped in close, towering, trying to make me flinch. I didn’t. I met his gaze, steady.
“Listen, bitch! I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but your debt has been cleared. Paid in full. Now get out of here and don’t come back. If I see you again—if you so much as breathe near this place—I won’t give a damn about his fucking threats when I come for you.”
My brow furrowed. “What do you mean my debt has been—”
“I said get out!” he roared, hurling the liquor bottle in his hand against the wall.
The glass shattered like a gunshot. I shrieked at the impact but held my ground. Blaze was shaking with rage. Without another word, he turned and stormed back into the lair, slamming the door so hard I was sure the sound echoed across Manhattan.
Confusion twisted around me as I stood frozen in the alley, staring at nothing. How the hell did a hundred and fifty grand debt just disappear? And what did Blaze mean by “his fucking threats”?
I’d been bracing myself for a penalty. Part of the syndicate’s lovely policy was that if you so much as sneezed on a collector, they’d tack on an extra fee. And Luca had dealt with Blaze at the park the other day. I’d stopped him in time—barely—but even then, I was expecting the worst.
So why wasn’t I paying more?
Why wasn’t there a spike in interest, a threat, a new deadline? Why was I suddenly…free?
My phone buzzed in my pocket, dragging me out of my thoughts. I fished it out, still dazed. It was Sam, my father’s realtor.
“Leila!” he said brightly. “Just wanted to personally congratulate you on the house. I’ve emailed the signed documents and the deed to your inbox.”
I blinked. “Wait…what?”
He chuckled. “Your father’s house. It’s yours now. Fully paid. I figured you’d want to know as soon as it cleared.”
“Hold up, Sam…what do you mean cleared?”
“You didn’t know?” A beat of silence passed, then he added. “Leila, your father’s house has been bought. The full mortgage paid off. In your name. You’re officially the new owner.”
“I didn’t buy the house. Sam, you know I couldn’t afford it even if I wanted to. Besides, I already moved all my things out last week, just like you asked.”
“I know. That’s why I figured you’d already been informed. It was paid for by Luca Vaughn.” He waited for me to say something, but when I didn’t, he said, “Anyway, I’ve got to go now. You can swing by anytime to get the house keys. Congratulations once again.”
The line went dead.
My pulse roared in my ears. Luca Vaughn? What exactly was he playing at?
Did he think this was some grand gesture? Some big romantic fix-it moment? Buy a house, erase the past, call it even? Now that I thought about it—the debt—it was him as well. The threat Blaze mentioned. It was Luca.
My jaw clenched so tight my teeth ached. But I felt my wolf within me, strangely soothed. She didn’t care about the manipulation or the betrayal. All she felt was relief. Gratitude. Safety. He’s protecting us.
I remembered his words from the other night at the gallery.
Because I can’t remind myself. Because when I’m around you, nothing else exists. Not her. Not the wedding. Not logic. Just you and your damn betrayal.
If he still believed I betrayed him, why do all this? Why protect me? Why go this far?
Did he think throwing money at my problems would make me forget what happened five years ago? That it would somehow cancel out the nights I cried myself to sleep while raising our son alone?
I curled my fists until my nails bit into my palms. Rage burned through me.
I didn’t crawl my way through hell just to have Luca Vaughn sweep in and play savior like I was some kind of charity case.
He didn’t get to buy back his conscience. Not like this.
Before I could think better of it, I found myself hailing a cab to the last place I wanted to be: Vaughn Industries.
The entire ride, my pulse thundered in my ears. My wolf stirred restlessly, scraping the edge of my control. She was anticipating seeing our Mate.
Thirty minutes later, the cab pulled up in front of the Vaughn Industries—a sleek building, with mirrored glass on every inch and corner.
Once upon a time, this place had been my dream.
A career milestone. Now, it looked like a nightmare.
One I had no business walking into. But I walked in anyway. No, I stormed in.
The lobby came to a standstill the moment I crossed the threshold. Heads turned. The ones who knew me gawked like they’d seen a ghost. The ones who didn’t just looked confused—probably newer hires who had no idea why the air had just cooled ten degrees.
I stalked past them all toward the front desk, where Jasmine, the receptionist, froze mid-sip of her green smoothie.
“Leila…” she said, her voice coated in disbelief.
We weren’t friends. Just two women who used to nod politely in passing five years ago.
“I want to see Luca Vaughn,” I said firmly.
Her lips parted, hesitation already forming. “I don’t think he’s—”
“Just call him and tell him I’m here.”
Something in my tone made her blink. Then she nodded, picked up the phone, and dialed.
Her eyes flicked to me. “Could you inform Mr. Vaughn that Leila Carter is in the building?”
A pause.
“Okay.” She hung up and looked back at me. “He said to send you up. Would you like me to show you the way?”
“I’ll find my way. Thank you.” I turned before she could follow me.
Luca’s office was on the executive floor, the eighth floor. I hit the button for the eighth. The elevator dinged open to the familiar hallway leading to Luca’s office.
When I reached his door, I didn’t knock. I shoved it open, trying to suppress my excited wolf.
Luca was behind his desk, sleeves rolled to the elbows, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing the hard lines of his throat. His eyes were already on me, like he’d been expecting me.
He leaned back in his chair like a king on his throne and dragged his gaze down the length of me—slow, deliberate, lingering too much on my waist. Heat surged through me.
The air in the room seemed to pull tight.
I hadn’t worn anything remotely seductive—just a green jersey T-shirt, black leggings, sneakers, and a coat thrown over it all. Functional. Practical. Uncomplicated. But the way he looked at me made me feel like I’d worn something provocative.
“Color me shocked, Leila,” Luca spoke, his voice smooth like whiskey poured over ice. Dry humor laced every syllable. “I thought you’d impaled a stick the size of a javelin between us to keep me at bay. And now, here you are. Miss me that much?”
“I do not,” I snapped.
I crossed the room and planted my hands on the edge of his desk, gripping it hard enough to ground myself.
“Don’t you play coy with me, Luca. You know exactly what you did.”
He smirked. “Oh, so it’s Luca now? What happened to calling me your client, the groom—all those neat little titles you like to hide behind?”
“You are my client,” I said coldly. “And the groom of the wedding I’m planning. A wedding that’s happening in two weeks, in case you’ve forgotten. Shouldn’t you be focusing on that instead of sticking your arrogant nose into things that don’t concern you?”
The smirk vanished. Just like that, his entire body stilled. The temperature in the room dropped.
Gone was the teasing edge. What stared back at me now was enough to knock the breath out of my lungs—tight-jawed, coiled like a predator mid-hunt. My wolf stilled.
Good.
I hadn’t come here to joke with him. He’d crossed a line. A big one. And he needed to remember that client relationships didn’t involve buying houses and clearing debts.