Chapter 5

Layla

By the time our drinks arrived, I had already decided I wasn’t going to mention Taylor’s family again. Not tonight. Belle Jardin was too beautiful for Harvey Whitmore to ruin from a distance.

The restaurant glowed beneath low chandeliers, the lights of Manhattan stretching beyond the tall windows beside us. Fresh white flowers sat between the place settings, and somewhere nearby, a pianist played softly beneath the low hum of conversation.

Taylor had picked me up after work without telling me where we were going. He’d only told me to dress up.

I had.

And judging by the way his eyes had lingered when I opened the door, he’d approved.

“You’re staring.”

His gaze lifted from my dress. “I’m appreciating.”

“Very subtly.”

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle.”

I reached for my glass. “You already told me I look beautiful.”

“I know.”

“Twice.”

“Three times.”

I looked at him.

Taylor smiled. “I’ll probably tell you again.”

My lips curved despite myself.

This was what I’d needed. No Whitmore estate. No questions about Westbridge, my job, my father or which Millers we were. No Harvey sitting across from me with that cold, assessing stare.

Just Taylor.

He reached across the table and took my hand. His thumb brushed over my engagement ring.

“I want you happy, Layla.”

My eyes lifted to his. “I am.”

“Good.” His fingers tightened around mine. “Because I plan on making you even happier when you have my last name.”

Heat crept into my cheeks. “You’re very confident.”

“About you?” His gaze held mine. “Always.”

My heart gave that stupid little flutter it still did whenever he looked at me like that.

I leaned across the table and kissed him. It was brief, barely more than a brush of my lips against his, but when I pulled back, Taylor followed me slightly.

“That’s it?”

I smiled. “We’re in a restaurant.”

“I noticed.”

“Behave.”

“I am behaving.”

The waiter approached, and Taylor released my hand as we ordered. By the time we were alone again, the conversation had already moved on.

Taylor asked about my day, and I told him about the client proposal that had consumed most of my afternoon.

“One wrong projection,” I said, “and suddenly half the report had to be redone.”

“And you enjoyed every second of it.”

“I did not.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m smiling because I fixed it.”

“Exactly.”

I gave him a look.

Taylor leaned back in his chair. “You like being right.”

“I like being good at my job.”

“You like both.”

“Maybe.”

He smiled. “I like hearing you talk about it.”

That caught me off guard. “Why?”

“You get excited.”

“I do not.”

“You do.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re very observant tonight.”

“I’m always observant.”

I nearly laughed.

Our food arrived a few minutes later. We talked about everything. Work. People we knew. The wedding.

We still hadn’t agreed on how large it should be, although Taylor seemed far more interested in the planning than I’d expected.

“You realize you’re becoming very involved in this.”

“I’m the groom.”

“Your main responsibility is showing up.”

“Absolutely not.”

I smiled. “Good.”

“Taylor?”

The voice came from somewhere behind me.

Taylor looked up. Recognition crossed his face.

“Sienna.”

I turned.

I knew her immediately.

Sienna Harte.

Her face had become almost impossible to avoid over the past year. Fashion campaigns. Magazine covers. Beauty advertisements. More recently, entertainment sites had started talking about her first acting role.

She was even more beautiful in person.

Tall and slender, with dark hair falling in loose waves over one shoulder. Her dress was pale, elegant and deceptively simple, and she carried herself with the easy confidence of someone accustomed to being noticed.

Her smile widened as she approached.

“I thought that was you.”

Taylor stood. “How are you?”

“Busy.”

“That’s good.”

“It is now.”

She laughed softly.

There was an ease between them I noticed immediately. Not intimacy. Familiarity.

Sienna’s attention shifted toward me.

Taylor turned slightly. “Sienna Harte, Layla Miller.”

His hand settled lightly against the back of my chair.

“My fiancée.”

Something flickered across Sienna’s face. Gone almost immediately.

Her gaze dropped to my left hand. Then she smiled.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“I hadn’t heard.”

“It’s new,” Taylor said.

“Last week,” I added.

“Well.” Her smile returned. “Congratulations to both of you.”

“Thanks.”

Her attention moved back to Taylor. “How long has it been?”

Taylor thought about it. “A while.”

“Monaco?”

Something in me paused.

Taylor nodded. “I think so.”

Sienna smiled. “That summer was insane.”

Taylor gave a short laugh. “It was.”

“I still can’t believe you actually—”

“Sienna!”

Someone called her name from across the restaurant.

She glanced over her shoulder. A woman seated at a table farther away lifted a hand.

Sienna sighed. “I’m being summoned.”

Taylor smiled. “Go.”

“It was good seeing you.”

“You too.”

She turned to me. “And it was lovely meeting you, Layla.”

“You too.”

With another smile, she walked away.

I watched her return to her table. Then I looked at Taylor.

“Monaco?”

He reached for his wine. “What about it?”

“You went to Monaco with Sienna Harte?”

“I didn’t go with Sienna. We were there with the same group.”

“You’ve never mentioned that.”

Taylor looked genuinely confused. “Why would I?”

Fair point. He knew hundreds of people I’d probably never heard about.

Still.

“What was she going to say?”

Taylor glanced briefly toward Sienna’s table. “I have no idea.”

“You don’t?”

“That summer was a while ago. We did a lot of stupid things. She could’ve meant anything.”

That did absolutely nothing for my curiosity.

“What kind of stupid things?”

His mouth curved. “No.”

“No?”

He reached across the table and held out his hand. “Be curious tomorrow.”

“Why tomorrow?”

“Because tonight I have you to myself.”

I tried not to smile. “That was smooth.”

“It worked.”

“Barely.”

I gave him my hand. His thumb moved over my ring.

I let him change the subject.

For now.

Dinner continued. By the time dessert arrived, I had stopped thinking about Monaco.

Mostly.

Movement near the entrance caught my attention.

Sienna.

Her group was leaving. An attendant held out her coat while one of the women beside her said something that made her laugh.

I watched without really meaning to.

Sienna slipped one arm into her coat. Then the other.

Someone opened the restaurant door.

She started toward it.

Then stopped.

And looked back.

Across the restaurant.

Toward us.

For a second, I thought she had caught me watching her.

She hadn’t.

Her eyes moved past me.

To Taylor.

And stayed there.

One second.

Two.

Maybe three.

Then Sienna turned and walked through the doors.

I looked across the table.

Taylor hadn’t noticed. He was reading something that had appeared on his phone.

I looked back toward the entrance.

Sienna was gone.

But the unfinished sentence she’d left behind wasn’t.

I still can’t believe you actually—

What happened in Monaco?