04

LAYLA.

WEDNESDAY.

"Aiden? Layla?"

"Hey, babe."

I rear my hands against the fridge and wriggle out of the space, hearing Penelope call out to both of us, then offer a greeting to her fiancé.

Pulling the pleat of my cloth, I let out a dry cough and pranced towards the living room, putting a much-needed space between me and Satan himself.

"Oh, there you are."

I acquainted my face with a smile for appearances, forging a look that didn't scream how troubled I went a few seconds ago.

"Quentin, this is Layla Dean. I'm sure that name rings a bell in that colossal head of yours."

I chuckle at her. Quentin nods and strolls over to me, lifting a hand and then pressing his lips over the top.

"Magazines should work on that picture quality. It doesn't do justice. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Dean."

I nod my head.

"If it isn't the black sheep."

"I'm the only sheep."

I step aside at the rise of his voice. Aiden measured to my vacant spot and crossed arms with Quentin. They laughed while pulling apart.

"I'll go get cookies."

"Chocolate chip?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Oh, I'm allergic; I'll just have any other snack."

Pen acknowledges, then walks away. Quentin trails after her, and they both disappear.

"You keep giving me ways to end your life. Who in fuck’s name is allergic to chocolate chip cookies? They are the best kind."

Aiden argues, plopping his butt down on the chair and then the signature arm folding. No resemblance to the varmint he twisted to.

"I am."

"What happens when you eat one? Does your face blow up? I can only picture how your freckles would look then."

He chuckles, and I reopen the wound.

"Another stupid comment about my freckles. Damn him!"

Whatever anxiety I had was gone. I'm overwhelmed with enough annoyance to know Aiden Smith needs a proper beating.

"Even if my face blew up, I'd still look better than you any day. You can't compete where you don't compare, Aiden."

"The girls don't seem to mind at all. If I may ask, when last did you have a dick in you, Layla? Or a man's arms around your waist? Oh, how starved you must be."

He clicked his tongue and then swiped it over his bottom lip.

"Fucker. It isn't a flaunt to fuck so much."

"It is love; not everyone can get a good fuck in. For example, you're needing in that area."

"You imbecile. I'm not discussing my sex life with you. Just shut up."

"What sex life?"

He bounced his head while laughing. I curled my fist.

"My sex life may or may not be done for. But, even if I get horny, I have money. Lots of it. The whiff of those notes gives a better orgasm than any man can."

He narrowed my look, smirked, and shifted forward.

"Oh love, you've been with boys then. If I were to give you an orgasm, you wouldn't be able to count how much money you have in your bank account for days."

Before I could utter a counterattack, Quentin and Penelope were back from the kitchen. Grabbing a cookie jar took nearly five minutes?

And she's blushing. Of course, he had his hands on her in the kitchen. Yet they don't want to be with each other for good? Seal it under the eyes of the Almighty?

What truly is their problem? This is the love standard, right? I'm not an expert; I've been in what? Three real relationships? I've had random, but with novels and movies, they qualify as true love or those silly shits.

Why get engaged if they're stalling this thing for good?

"Here you go."

Penelope got a biscuit for me. I watched her closely while muttering a “Thank You”. Is she the issue? Or is Quentin not ready?

Did he think proposing was a mistake?

"I'm yet to know why both of you are here yet? The suspense is thrilling, but I need to know. Plus, I have a meeting soon."

"Okay, then we'll cut right to it."

Aiden speaks across from me, his tone moving to professional.

"Layla and I will be working on a project for the company and a section of it will feature your wedding and that hasn't happened yet, so to complete the project, we were hoping to turn into your wedding planners."

Okay, that was smooth. Maybe too smooth. He says he doesn't lie. That was not a lie. Not the entirety of the truth, but not a complete lie either. How the fuck?

"Oh wow. Quentin and I haven't even fixed a date yet."

Pen chuckles, grabbing the back of her neck. Is She nervous?

"We can help with that. Anything you could need. That's why we are here."

"So we get two free wedding planners?"

"There'll be something in it for us."

The four of us laugh, mine more throaty than the rest of them. If only Penelope knew, we were getting half a million dollars for this.

"So, what do you say?"

"Sounds good."

Quentin cups her waist, yet Penelope has a hesitant gleam in her eyes.

"We should leave the happy couple to reminisce. I will email you this evening with a few things to sort out before the wedding. You may get back to me with everything you desire. We'll do our best to conclude and ensure you're happy."

I narrowed my look. How did he? That sounded decent. Professional. Charming even.

"Goodbye, Pen, Quentin. I'll see you both some other time."

I finished the last of the biscuit and then excused myself. Aiden had crossed through the door.

"First part is done. I told you I'll do most of the work; you're dead weight. I should toss you over."

He switches swiftly. His Smirk is back on. Ego is raised to level ten.

"I'll see how you'll function with seating arrangements and flowers. You'll do all the work, right?"

"There's G****e love and it processes better than your redundant brain."

"I'll kill you!"

I swore, gritting my teeth hard and fast, then storming off.

No. No. Fuck no. I can't do this.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Same time?"

Ignoring his existence, I pushed the button for my car door and got in.

"Fuck!"

I hissed, realizing my purse was inside. It's Aiden. Fucking Aiden, screwing with my head.

Ugh!

Reversing my motion, I hurried to the front door and sighed. With a hand on the doorknob, I heard their voices inside, then halted to listen.

"Quentin. I thought we talked about this. I'm not ready to—"

"Yes. We spoke a month ago. I thought you'd have everything settled by now. I love you. Not only that, but I want you. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just some contracts and other things that need sorting out. I want to give this my all."

"Then Layla can help. It's like a dream come through."

"Contracts that are not in New York. I don't want to pressure anyone."

"It'll be fine. Calm down, darling, come here."

I sound a knock and then walk in on them in each other's arms.

"I'm sorry. I left my purse."

I smile and reach for the object.

"Goodbye again."

I step out with a grin.

"I heard lack of sex gives amnesia; it's no wonder why you'd forget you brought a purse along."

I roll my eyes to his pleasure.

"Guess who's dead weight now? I know exactly what Penelope is reluctant about the marriage."

"Oh, do you know?"

"Yes, I do."

I chirp.

"Do tell."

"Why? So you can pretend it was your idea? Not. I figured it out, so I got copyright. I'm not telling you."

"I thought we were a team."

He fired, seemingly annoyed.

"You thought wrong. Goodbye, Aiden."

Giggling, I got back to my car and drove off. Satisfaction brewing in the pit of my stomach.

****

7:09 PM

"Father."

I greet, shutting off my screen.

"Layla. Good to see you."

I bob my head and pull the farthest seat in the dining.

"You phoned me?"

I returned to my apartment, hoping to relax for the rest of my day off, but Daddy needed his daughter in his home. Loneliness must suck. He has mistresses for sure, but it should dawn on him sometimes.

My mother and father got divorced when I was Nine. Before then, it was a fighting ring, and I was straight in the middle. And after? It turned into a competition. My mother is in New York, and I'm in Washington. It didn't stop them while I was at Harvard. I moved down to Yale to get away from their toxicity. They pulled a stunt that was too low, even for them, but they followed wherever. My mother threw a fist when I began working with my father. If only she knew our relationship went down the hill as years went by.

Truth be told, it had nothing to do with their feud. Dean Construction gave me everything I wanted. My own office, trips abroad for experience, and my mother owned a clothing line which was just as successful, but that wasn't the life I wanted.

They didn't care about my needs. My father rubbed it as winning, and my mother called me out for loving her less. Here I am.

"I presume you've gotten the memo from Smith Industries? I'm putting you on this because there's no one I trust more. This deal is very important for Dean Construction."

"You're offering me half a million, father. I can guess how important it is."

"Good. I want an update as well. Let me know everything."

He couldn't sense the sarcasm?

"Alright, Father."

I clipped. Straight to business. There's no— How are you, Layla? How's work? How's your life? Nothing. It's been in business for over three years. Fuck him.

"May I leave now, father?"

"One more thing, Layla."

I scoffed and returned to my seat.

"You're working on the project with Aiden Smith."

He paused and then sipped his wine.

"They'll try to get the upper hand from this; make no mistake; they'll use any tactics to get ahead. You're my blood; you're smarter than they. Don't disappoint me, Layla."

"May I leave now, Father?"

I repeat, fuming with more anger now.

"I'm not done. The Smith boy, Aiden. I'm sure you're aware of his other activities. I don't need a scandal on my hands now that we have dealings with international companies."

I bite my tongue. He has sluts moving in and out of this house every week, yet I'm the one who could cause a scandal? With fucking Aiden, who I detest?

"Understood Father. Goodnight."

"I mean it, Layla; this isn't the era to act stubborn nor stupid. This deal means—"

"I said I understand, father! You need not expatiate the importance. It's glaring. I would not want to disappoint you. After all, business is the only route through which we speak. It'll be a shame to lose that, wouldn't it? Have a good night, Daddy."

I pull my purse and storm out. Fuck him. Fuck this stupid house. Fuck the business. Fuck this stupid day off that I didn't get to enjoy. Fuck all of this.

"Coming over in ten. We're going out."

I shoot a text to Bella and slam the door behind me.

****