Chapter 6
6
LAYLA
Don’t follow me. Don’t follow me, I plead as I make a beeline for the elevator. I hear a car door slam behind me. Shit. I pick up the pace and slam my palm against the call button. Hurry the fuck up!
He takes his time getting to me, but just like the first time, the elevator takes longer.
“Looks like your car is fixed.” His voice is low and gruff. He’s so close, his body heat burns me. I can smell him, the warm masculine scent of his skin, and count every fleck of gold in his gorgeous eyes when I finally dare to look up. My eyes meet his. My mouth goes dry. I can’t manage a response. His eyes hold mine for a bit longer, and then his gaze drops to my mouth. He exhales, nostrils flaring before he turns and walks into the elevator when the doors finally slide open.
I follow him inside. Our eyes meet again. It feels like I plugged myself into a socket. Electricity, snapping hot, courses through my veins. Even the air feels charged with a current. I close my eyes and moisten my lips. When I open my eyes, Cole is staring with intense focus at my mouth.
I whisper, “Cole.” I try to swallow the emotions that are bubbling within me.
His lashes lift. His fierce gaze drills into mine. He says nothing. When I don’t go on, he leans close to my ear and says, “You’re a little liar.”
His voice is low and husky, and his wild, woodsy scent is in my nose. An involuntary shudder runs through me. I close my eyes and moisten my lips again in a desperate attempt to pull myself together.
“I’m not. You have no idea how stubborn I am, so give it up.”
He turns his head. Looking into my eyes again, he raises a hand and presses his thumb against the throbbing pulse in my throat, then doesn’t do anything for several seconds.
I think he’s counting my heartbeats. I push his hand away and take a step back.
He shoves his hands into his pockets, a wicked grin crosses his stupidly handsome face. “I’ll let it go on one condition.”
I roll my eyes. “What’s with all the conditions?”
He leans back against the wall. His golden stare penetrating. “I’m a businessman. It’s what I do. You do owe me for the tire repair and the ride. Do you want to know what my condition is?”
My eyebrows rise. “I owe you? At least I wasn’t mistaken about you not being a gentleman.” Whatever. I just want to get this over with. “What is your condition?”
“That you let me kiss you again.”
I purse my lips and bunch my hands at my sides. After a moment of deliberate calculation, I chuckle at his audacity and ask, “I told you I wouldn’t. Why would I change my mind now?”
He takes a step closer. “It would be a real kiss this time.” He ignores my question. “You claim you’re not interested. I think you’re lying. What have you got to lose?”
“Was the last one not real? You’re a player, remember? You must be off your game tonight, Mr. Hendrix.”
“Your words, not mine.”
I stand my ground as he takes another step. My soft body molds against his hard one. He lifts my chin and slips an arm around my waist. My mind screams for me to pull away, but my body doesn’t listen. Cupping my cheek with his large palm, he doesn’t hesitate to bring his lips to mine. My toes curl and my core twists with need at his ability to kiss. Kissing is an underrated skill, and if I were to give Cole’s ability a grade, it would be A++. He wasn’t lying. This is a real kiss. He’s putting everything he’s got into it.
His lips and tongue fit perfectly with mine. His warmth raising the temperature within me from simmer to boiling in seconds. I am lost as he unapologetically takes what I am apparently, unbeknownst to me, willing to give. My palm teases over his arm and shoulder, feeling definition I’d glimpsed beneath his clothes. As his wide chest presses against my breasts, my hunger for him grows, causing my nipples to stiffen into hard peaks. Without forethought, my fingers weave through his dark hair. His touch is everywhere. Running his hands over my arm, my shoulder, finally down my side, caressing my breast. We struggle for air as we devour one another, both starving for more of what is right here. I tip my head up as his lips move lower. Nips and kisses pepper over my skin, down my neck and along my collarbone.
Thankfully, sanity takes control and I come to my senses. What the hell am I doing? I push him away. We are both breathing hard as I step over to the control panel and swipe my card before pushing the button for my floor. My back is to him, but I can feel his eyes burning a hole into the back of me. We ride in silence until the bell dings and the doors slide open on the fourteenth floor. Before I can step out, I hear the deep timbre of his voice behind me.
“That was a real kiss. I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I saw you in this elevator.”
My spine stiffens at his deep voice and unexpected words. He is so close I can feel the rumble of the words against my back. They slide over me like sun-warmed honey—rich and sensual—that makes every nerve ending tingle with pleasure.
Heat slips beneath my skin.
I don’t answer him. I don’t turn around. I step out of the elevator and let the doors slide shut behind me.
The apartment door closes. The lock clicks into place. After activating the security system, I close my eyes, lean against the solid barrier, and inhale. This is my home. My safe haven. It’s supposed to soothe me, but I don’t feel soothed at the moment. I feel hot and bothered and it pisses me off.
Kicking off my shoes, I sigh at the comfort of being out of high heels and wiggle my toes against the cool wood floor. Step by step, I make my way through my silent apartment.
In the large living room, the only illumination comes from the city lights beyond the large panes of glass. The pristine white furniture glows in the silver moonlight. The lights of New York City glisten with all the energy of the city itself. From this height I feel a disconnect from it all.
Removing my phone from my purse, I look at the slew of emails. I toss it aside. I’ll deal with them tomorrow. My focus on Aria today cost me several hours of work, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. I’ve grown to love that kid. I’m not supposed to get attached. That’s what they told me when I signed up. I don’t know how people do that, but I don’t have it in me. I can’t help but want a better life for her. If I can make a difference, I’ll do whatever I can. I don’t care about the personal cost.
With a shake of my head, I make my way into my kitchen. I bypass the wine and drop a couple of cubes into a glass followed by three fingers of bourbon. I need the strong stuff after what just happened. I take a sip, thankful for the momentary distraction of the burn.
Now, I have to figure out what to do about my new neighbor. The man who is the king of this castle that I call home. The man with the eyes of a lion, who wants to devour me. The man I have to fight against when I enter my office tomorrow.
That was a real kiss. I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you in this elevator .
I smirk. Maybe now that he’s gotten what he wants, he’ll leave me alone. I can practically hear my lady parts weep at the thought. I pick up my glass and the bottle and make my way into my bathroom. The bright lighting over the vanity fills the space with stark illumination. For only a moment, I look at my reflection.
Squaring my shoulders, I lift my chin.
I’m Layla Bancroft. A strong woman who had to fight for everything I have. Everything that I am. I’m not a pushover. I have the reins. I have the control.
Opening my eyes wide, I take in the deep shade of brown in their reflection. Those eyes are fierce. They never back down, unless I want them to. Do I want them to? That is the million-dollar question.
I take a deep breath, letting the corners of my lips move upward, watching as my cheeks pink and come to life. He’s such a cocky bastard, I shouldn’t even be thinking about him right now. At least the ball is in my court. When I battle him for everything Audrey Byrne and her employees are entitled to, this won’t factor into it. This is separate and apart from that. I can only hope he feels the same way. I should have made that clear.
I raise the glass to my lips, leaving a red stain on the rim from what remains of my lipstick, and swallow. The amber liquid burns as it coats my tongue and throat. Slamming the empty glass on the vanity, I feel my smile grow as the sound echoes against the marble and glass finishes.
I make a mental list of things I need to do tomorrow.
Call Aria’s school.
Emails.
Go over the proposal I have to present for Byrne.
Never could I have imagined this life as a young girl, living in Brooklyn with a single mother who had to work double shifts to support us.
It is busy, productive, rewarding, and better than anything I could have dreamed.
My gaze narrows as I study my own face. My cheekbones, my nose, my lips. After finding out about my father, I made a decision that my dignity was not for sale. I would succeed, with or without him in my life, and I would do so with no regrets. I am not a dreamer. I am a doer. I surround myself with like-minded people. Those of us who made a name for ourselves, by ourselves. We’re a rare breed. Our comfort was earned.
I refuse to be a notch in someone’s bedpost, or anything else for that matter. Especially someone I work with.
Over my thirty-one years, I have had my share of one-night stands and friends with benefits. I’ve taken and given pleasure. I’ve never wanted anything more.
Closing my eyes, I picture Cole. My lips tingle as I recall his kiss. The real kiss. God, it felt good. How long has it been since I’ve been with a man? It would seem as if I should recall. I can’t. I don’t consider myself loose. But I am a modern woman who enjoys physical pleasure. I won’t apologize for it. Men have long had similar relationships, why can’t a woman? Realization dawns. Does that make me like Cole? Have I judged him too harshly? Am I a player too?
Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me. I’m nothing like him. I down the remainder of the liquid in my glass. My gaze shifts to the inviting large clawfoot tub. Given the day I’ve had, at the very least I’ve earned a nice hot bath. Everything else can wait for tomorrow.
The tub’s porcelain is smooth and cool beneath my touch. Turning on the gleaming faucet, I wait until the water reaches the warmth I like. I add some of the lavender oil Maddie gave me on my last birthday. She swears it helps her relax, so why not give it a try. I can use all the help I can get right now. I pour myself a smaller measure of bourbon this time. Humidity fills the room, and the scent of lavender permeates the air.
I peel off my blouse and skirt, tossing them onto the floor along with my panties and bra. The water rises as I step into the tub and sink down into the steamy heat of my bath. My skin quickly pinkens at the warmth. The ends of my dark hair dampen as I lay my head back against the raised end of the tub and close my eyes. Despite the luxury of my warm bath, I rarely take time for myself. I inhale the soothing aroma as the water’s warmth starts to do its job. I breathe deeply before exhaling slowly, repeating the process a few more times as I feel myself start to relax.
I open my eyes and reach for my drink. Cole Hendrix comes to mind once again. Should I do what Maddie suggested and simply enjoy what he has to offer? If it’s even half as good as his kiss, I know I’ll be more than satisfied. No strings attached. It’s what I usually do, and I’m pretty sure it’s how he rolls as well. Could we take what we need from each other and walk away with no regrets?
The energy from that kiss and the bourbon coursing through my veins rekindle the way it felt when he took control and showed me how he really kisses a woman. His golden stare was set on mine as he pulled me into his arms.
The fact that I am smiling at the memory means it was a good one. I shake my head.
No.
It can’t work. It won’t work. We are on opposite sides of the same line of work, which will undoubtedly have us crossing paths more and more as time goes by. Hell, we even live in the same bloody building. We will be forced to interact on a regular basis. The answer is no . The lines would blur. One would bleed into the other. The cost is too high. Besides , I remind myself. Cole Hendrix thinks he’s a god. I think he’s more like the devil sent to work on my last nerve. It would never work. I need to make sure he follows the rules.
The next morning, it’s business as usual. I dial my assistant on my way into the office. She’s been with me since Avery and Tori asked me to join them five years ago, and I would never be able to manage without her. Of course, she is already hard at it and picks up on the first ring. “Hi, Janey, I’m grabbing a coffee. Can I bring you your usual?”
“Hey, Layla, that would be awesome, thank you.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in less than fifteen if the lineup isn’t too long. Can you do me a favor and set up a call with Cole Hendrix on the Byrne matter for this morning, if he has time. I’m free, so whatever works best for him is fine with me, as long as it happens today.” I need to squash whatever this thing is between us, and the sooner I get it over with, the better. I also need to get the ball rolling on Audrey Byrne’s company so she can get on with her life. Two birds with one stone. I believe Cole used that line on me the last time we spoke on the phone, so I’m sure he’ll agree.
“You got it. Anything else?”
“No, I’ll see you soon. Thanks.” I hang up and immediately dial my mother.
I haven’t talked to her much since I moved into my new place. She wasn’t happy that I took Victor’s money. Which is actually my money, if we’re being honest, but she doesn’t see it that way. She wants all the credit for who I am and what I’ve become, and I’m happy to give it to her, even though I had a little to do with the end result. At the end of the day, Victor is my father, and he is trying to right the wrongs of his past. If I believe what he has to say, he tried to do what was right for me all along, even if he didn’t want a relationship with me or my mother. In the end, he respected her wishes. He waited until I was grown up and adult enough to try and understand his side of things. It’s complicated to say the least. Mom doesn’t need to worry; my first priority will always be her.
I place my order and wait while the phone rings. She picks up after a few rings. “Layla, how are you, my love.” She sounds tired. Probably just got off a shift at the hospital.
“Hey, Mom, I’m good. I’m on my way to work. I’m just checking in. It’s been a while since we chatted. Did you just get off shift?”
“I did. I just got home.” I hear her moving around and water running in the background. “After I eat and have a hot shower, I’m heading to bed. It was a busy night last night.”
“I thought all night shifts were busy.” I snicker.
She laughs with me. “I suppose they are.” She works too hard. She doesn’t need to work so hard anymore. She doesn’t have me to support, and she’s always been good about avoiding debt. As far as I know, she just has a small mortgage.
“Maybe it’s time you took some time off. Go on vacation with some of your friends. You always said you wanted to go on a cruise. Maybe now’s the time. How about I come over after work. We can have dinner. I’ll bring some brochures.”
“I would love that, Layla, but I have a shift tonight and I’m already meeting someone for dinner. Let’s plan for another night, if that’s okay.” My interest is piqued. She rarely ever has plans.
“Okay, no problem. Who are you having dinner with?” I ask, trying not to sound too interested.
“Just a friend, honey. No one you know. Look, my breakfast is ready. I have to run. Love you.” She hangs up, and now I’m really curious, because she just dodged my question. That’s very unusual for my mother. Gabriella has always been an open book. Well, except when it came to the part about my father. She’s hiding something, or maybe someone. I smile at the thought. As far as I know, she’s never dated anyone.
My name is called. I tuck my phone away and pick up my order, making a mental note to check in with her tomorrow.
I hand Janey her coffee and she hands me a note that says Cole Hendrix, nine o’clock . I glance at my watch. Shit, that’s in ten minutes. She notices my reaction and smirks behind her latte.
“Don’t give me that look. You said whatever time works best for him. He said nine o’clock.”
“Thanks,” I grumble as I hustle into my office and kick the door shut behind me.