08

LAYLA

02/60

THURSDAY.

My stomach growled for the nth time as Aiden sat across from me, looking through distinct buildings for their wedding.

"I'll email Quentin for his intake. He knows Penelope and should be able to tell us which of these places she'd like best."

My mouth was wetting while my brain strived to keep up and not seem preoccupied.

"After this, we should go over the invite list and all..."

He trailed off and my hands flew down, clutching my belly.

"Aside from the alcohol last night and coffee this morning, what else did you have?"

"Your head."

I murmur, wondering if the migraine was from him or bonded with hunger.

"Funny. It wouldn't be a good look if you died in my apartment. Your father will have my..."

He paused, and I arched a brow. My father will have his head. Although Ramon Dean will care more about prestige than grieving his dead daughter.

"You know, when I get sick of you, I may just pull that stunt. Kill me and frame you for it. So we're both dammed."

"Is that yo