Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Layla: Actually, I’m not.
Fuck.
I started to text back and then thought better of it. Instead, I hit Call. She answered on the first ring.
“We need to talk, sweetheart,” I said.
“I agree. So why don’t you answer your home phone already?”
I was thoroughly confused for a few heartbeats. “How do you know my…”
“Because I’m standing downstairs, waiting for you to tell your nice doorman to allow me to come up.”
I picked up my house phone and held it to the other ear. “Norman?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Westbrook.”
“Can you please send Ms. Hutton up?”
“Will do.”
“And for future reference, Ms. Hutton is welcome any time she wants.”
“You got it.”
I hung up the cordless and returned to my cell. “Get your ass up here, wise ass.”
***
I waited in front of the elevator doors. Freckles, on the other hand, took his trusty shoe and charged right inside when the door opened.
Layla bent to pick him up. “Are you glad to see me or trying to escape in the elevator?”
I wanted to keep that smile on her face forever. Suddenly, a sobering thought hit me. I hadn’t wanted to have a serious conversation over text. The same might’ve been true for her. She could be here to dump my ass in person.
I attempted to push the thought out of my head and remain positive. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
She finished scratching Freckles and set him down. “I figured you’d been avoiding me all day because you had news you didn’t want to share and wouldn’t lie when I asked you.”
I forced a smile. “You know me well.”
On the inside, I was a fucking wreck, unable to think straight, but that didn’t stop me from soaking her in. She wore a red business suit—a skirt and jacket, with a white, silky camisole underneath. Holding Freckles, the thin fabric clung against her bra, and I could make out the pattern of lace underneath. Her long, toned legs were shapely and smooth, and she wore black high heels that I’d have opted to have stitches in my back just to feel them puncture my skin. But it was her nose that did me in. She hadn’t covered her freckles. Somehow that gave me a beacon of hope to cling to.
While I was busy ogling her, apparently she’d done the same to me. Except what she found wasn’t as pleasant.
“You look terrible,” she said.
“Then it’s a good thing you look so beautiful and can pick up the slack.”
“Are you…going to invite me in so we can talk? Or are we just going to stand in front of the elevator and stare at each other?”
“How would you feel about staying right here?”
She forced a smile. “Come on. Give me a drink. From the looks of you, I have a lot of catching up to do.”
After I poured her a glass of wine and grabbed myself a bottle of water—I’d had enough—we went to the living room. I’d forgotten the mess all over the place. Sweeping papers from the couch, I made room for her to sit.
Layla’s eyes landed on the photo I hadn’t been able to take mine from today. She picked it up and stared at it while sipping her wine.
“She’s beautiful. The photo doesn’t even do her justice,” she said softly.
“I’ve done nothing but stare at that for hours.”
Her eyes flickered to meet mine. “She’s yours?”
I blew out a deep breath. “Max gave me DNA results to show that Aiden isn’t the father and testing she claims was done with a sample from my toothbrush and razor, which is positive for paternity.”
“Do you believe her?”
I looked at the photo still in her hands. “I think I would’ve believed her with that photo alone.”
Layla smiled sadly. We stared at each other in utter silence for a long time. I didn’t know what to say, and I thought it best to let her digest it and not force it down her throat.
Eventually she looked away. “Why did she keep it from you?”
“She said she found out she was pregnant right before I took the deal, and she thought I might not take it if I knew I had a child on the way. I might’ve fought for my freedom, and that would’ve put her immunity deal at risk.”
“God,” she gasped. “That’s ruthless.”
I shook my head and looked down at my feet. “I didn’t think anything else could shock me.”
“Does she want you back? Is that why she told you the way she did—through me? Showing up at my office like that?”
“No. She said she wanted to see who her daughter was going to be spending time with.”
“There are obviously more normal ways to go about doing that. Like perhaps letting the father know he has a child before stalking his girlfriend?”
“There’s nothing normal about Max. I learned that the hard way.”
We were again quiet for a few minutes. I needed to tell her the rest, but wasn’t sure how to tell her the life I’d just gotten back was about to be turned upside down. Her next question, though, opened the door.