Well, well, well. It's about to get really interesting.
Aneeka’s povI blink. Please, tell me I didn't hear that."A whore? Really?" My voice shakes."That's right", he says cold and flat.But why does he look like he's in pain when he says it?I swallow hard. "Bastard". The silence stretches. Even Saint shifts behind me, and I catch him giving Derek a look I can't read. Like they've talked about this before."What?" Derek growls, and I feel every hair on my skin rise.Shit. He heard me.Of course he did. I'm probably saying my thoughts out loud. My mouth won't stop moving when I'm scared."I did. Loud and clear, Layla".But there's something in his voice. Something that doesn't match the cruel words. His hands are clenched at his sides, knuckles white.I step back. He doesn't sound or look human right now. Not even close. Years with Damon taught me to always take a step back and get ready to run. But Saint is standing behind me like a freaking wall.I glare at Saint. My best I will end you stare.He doesn't even blink.Right. Derek said
Derek's povDamon took over an hour to clean up. Did I stop him? Hell no. If he had asked for another hour, I would have handed him a loofah and bleach.The man smelled terrible. Really, really terrible. I was not going to spend the whole car ride with my head hanging out the window like a dog.When he finally came out, I wished I was blind.He wore another designer disaster. Maybe Gucci? I couldn't tell. The pattern looked familiar, but God forbid I knew exactly what it was.I didn't catch where he said we were going. I didn't care either.The red laser dots on his chest and Saint's gun pressed against his head said everything.I had hoped he wouldn't talk. I was ready to silence him forever.But he sang like a goddamn canary on crack.I heard six names, maybe ten addresses. Even office addresses of friends and families of Mr. Reddington.The driver followed Damon's directions. His life depended on it. We made it in thirty minutes.Perfect.The driver avoided the main roads and stuck
Derek’s povDamon is the worst. Like, really really bad.He's garbage, the kind even seagulls avoid. A walking biohazard in Burberry, pink shorts, and a sleep mask pushed up on his forehead, like he’s relaxing at a goddamn spa.And yet, somehow… she chose him.Am I losing it? Yes. Yes, I am.Layla could've had anyone. Anyone at all. And she chose this? Him? What part of her thought he was a good idea? And why?I stare at Damon's sleeping form, and I realize… I don't want answers to any of it. Not about him or why. I don't even want it to make sense. It'll hurt less if I just don't know.The woman next to him stirs. She looks around, then lets out a scream like her lungs are on fire. If someone taught her, she could probably shatter my skull with that.What is she, a fucking banshee?"Shut the fuck up", Damon mumbles into his pillow, still half-asleep.She shakes him hard. He grabs her by the hair and pulls her down toward his crotch. "Suck it, bitch", he slurs, totally unaware of the
Derek’s povAneeka Smith.I rented the whole restaurant. Not just any place, but a Michelin-starred one. I planned everything to be perfect.Champagne by the water. Her favorite violinist on the balcony. Even those chocolate-covered strawberries she swears she hates… but ate every time.Then that damn package showed up. Addressed to Aneeka Smith.The name stared at me from the box handed over. And just like that… everything fell apart.Layla opened the door, still adjusting her earring, her radiant smile lit up her whole face. My chest tightened."You make me distracted", I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "And kind of dumb". Her eyebrows shot up. "In a good way", I quickly added. "No… an amazing way".Her laughter echoed through the room, light and musical. It was perfect. Just perfect.That emerald dress, with its perfect slit teasing just above her left thigh, left no room for coherent thought. The fabric clung like it was painted on, making it impossible
Aneeka’s povHe freezes, his head snapping toward me. "What did you say?"I point to the drawer, my voice steady. "I wasn’t sure one would be enough”.His eyes narrow, and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to yell. Instead, he stands slowly, his movements stiff, like he's holding back anger. He walks to the drawer and yanks it open. His shoulders slump, and he lets out a low, pained breath. "Layla… what the hell?"I sit up, cross my legs, and force a grin. "I'm sorry", I say, trying to sound casual. "You…""Fuck, princess", he mutters, pulling one of the dildos from the drawer and gripping it tightly. He's going to break it if he keeps holding it like that."Couldn't you have punished me some other way? Were… were you really going to use it? Them?" His voice shakes.I shrug, avoiding his gaze. "Well, not really".He groans, running a hand over his beautiful face. "What? No, no, no…”Before he can say another word, I walk to him. His breath hitches as I go on tiptoe, pressing my l
Aneeka’s povI knew he was going to be mad, but not this mad. Okay, that's a lie. I knew he'd be really, really mad. I wanted him to be mad."Layla! Open this door now!" His voice is getting louder, angrier.Okay, maybe I underestimated how mad he’d be. Hopefully the door is made of some sort of fine, indestructible material. Because at this point, he's going to break it down.I press my back against the door, hoping my weight can keep him out. "Go away, Der!" I shout, trying to hold in my laugh but failing miserably."Not a chance!" he shouts, pounding on the door."I need to be alone. I'm going to be very busy, Der", I reply, my cheeks hurting from holding in my laughter. "It's going to be a long night, and you're ruining it", I whisper.There's a pause, and for a moment, I think he's given up. But then I hear him sigh. His voice is lower now, but still intense. "Baby, open the door. Please, Layla".I bite my lip, my heart racing. Why does he have to sound so hot? And sexy? What doe