Chapter Four

Layla’s POV

Knock. Knock.

The sound cut through the quiet of my office and stopped my call mid-sentence. I looked up from the papers spread across my desk, the receiver still pressed to my ear.

“Come in,” I said.

Sophie Lawson stepped inside just as I finished speaking. “Please process the documents and send them over to the editing department. Thank you.” I set the phone down carefully and stood.

She crossed the room without hurry and stopped a few steps from my desk. Her eyes moved over my face the way they always did when she was checking whether I was holding myself together.

“Are you okay, Layla?”

I let out a slow breath and kept my voice even. “No need to comfort me, Boss. I’m fine now.”

A small laugh slipped from her. “I’m not here to comfort you. I’ve always known Nick wasn’t a trustworthy guy.”

The words landed heavier than I wanted them to. My boyfriend had betrayed me in the worst way, and she didn’t have to sound so satisfied about it.

She saw the shift in my expression and lifted both hands. “I’m sorry. Sorry. I’ll control myself.” Then the laughter came fully, short and open. When it faded she looked straight at me again. “Layla, I told you more than once that you and Nick were completely incompatible. When two people want to be together, compatibility matters more than anything else.”

I stayed quiet. If Nick and I had never fit, then who was I supposed to fit with?

Sophie’s voice softened. “You’re educated, good-looking, and you have a solid job. You have a promising future, Layla.”

Something tightened behind my eyes. I forced it down. She had been more than a boss for years. She had stood beside me through every hard stretch since college. I dipped into a small, exaggerated bow just to push the weight out of the room. “Thank you, Editor-in-chief. What brings you to my office? You could have called.”

“I just got off the phone with the planning department at Brown Empire. They want you to handle the interview scheduled for today instead of Madeline.”

The air left my chest. “I’m confirmed for the interview with Kyle Brown?”

She nodded once. “Right. It’s you. They said he specifically requested Layla Kingston.”

“Why me?” The question came out quieter than I meant. “Madeline has more experience, and my outline still needs work.”

Sophie stepped closer and took my hand. Her fingers were warm. “How am I supposed to know why he wants you?” The sarcasm was light, but it still pulled at something in my stomach. “Anyway, it’s tonight. Are you down for it?”

I didn’t answer right away. The memory rose without warning: Nick’s wedding, the second I had closed the distance and kissed Kyle Brown, the ten-dollar bill I had pressed into his hand before I walked away. Heat crawled up the back of my neck. What had I been thinking in that moment?

“Layla, are you even listening?” Sophie’s voice cut through the thought. “You have to get ready for the interview tonight, okay?”

I blinked and nodded. “Okay… okay, Boss.”

She checked her watch and gave a small smile. “Tonight at seven at Brown Empire headquarters. Mr. Brown’s assistant will give you the rest of the details.”

“I’ll start preparing now.”

“Good. Remember, you’re interviewing someone important. The station fought hard for this. We can’t afford mistakes. Ask the right questions and follow procedure.”

“Yes, Boss.”

A few minutes before seven I stood outside the glass tower with my umbrella tilted against the hard rain. Water poured down the dark surface of the building in sheets. I had taken a cab because I hadn’t driven that day. Halfway up the façade, a gold cursive sign caught the light and held it: THE BROWN EMPIRE.

I lowered the umbrella and stepped through the revolving doors. The security guard checked my Stargaze Broadcasting Station ID and waved me forward.

The lobby stopped me for a full second. Everything about it felt deliberate and expensive, the kind of space that reminded you exactly how high the company sat in the world. Work hours had ended. The place was nearly empty. The receptionist, a woman in her early thirties, looked up and offered an easy smile I hadn’t expected. After a short exchange she called Kyle Brown’s PA and asked me to take a seat.

I sat. My hands would not stay still in my lap. Whether the cold came from the rain outside or the quiet of the lobby, I could not tell. I watched the bank of elevators until one of the VIP cars chimed open. A young man stepped out. I recognized him at once: the same man who had stood behind Kyle Brown at the wedding. He walked straight to me and stopped with a professional smile.

“Hi, Miss Layla Kingston. I’m Theodore Ashford, Mr. Brown’s PA. You can call me Theo.”

“Nice to meet you, Theo. Thank you for the welcome.”

“The pleasure’s mine. Mr. Brown is waiting. Please come with me.”

I followed him back to the elevator, giving the receptionist a small wave before the doors closed. Theo pressed the button for the hundredth floor. Neither of us spoke on the way up.

My heart beat hard against my ribs. I pressed a hand over it, trying to steady the rhythm. In a few moments I would be face to face with Kyle Brown again, and every part of me was fighting to look calm. The only question that kept circling was why he had asked for me instead of Madeline Johnson.

The elevator opened onto another lobby that made the one downstairs look ordinary. Theo led me down a quiet hallway and stopped in front of a pair of tall oak doors set with non-transparent glass. He pressed a button. The doors swung open on their own.

We stepped into a wide office. My grip tightened on the strap of my bag. Across the room a man stood with his back to us, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Rain still streaked the glass behind him.

“Boss, Miss Layla is here,” Theo said.

“You can leave now, Theo.” The deep voice carried easily across the space.

Theo offered me a brief smile and stepped out, closing the doors behind him. I was alone with Kyle Brown.

He turned after a few seconds. Brown suit trousers, cream shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, no tie. Colorful tattoos covered both arms and the backs of his hands; almost no skin showed. He looked sharper and more striking than I remembered. My eyes lingered too long on his mouth before I forced them away.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer. Or are you planning to kiss me again?” He walked toward his chair as he spoke.

Heat flooded my face so fast I felt it in my ears. I dropped my gaze, wishing the floor would open and take me with it.

“Is everything okay, Layla? You look tense.” A small smile sat at the corner of his mouth, as if he enjoyed every second of my discomfort.

He settled into the chair and leaned back. “Don’t you think I deserve an explanation? No matter how hurt or reckless you felt, you don’t kiss a stranger for no reason and then throw a ten-dollar bill at him.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, pressed my fingertips lightly to my forehead, then looked up. My voice came out quieter than I wanted. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brown. For the kiss. I don’t know how to explain what happened that day. All I can offer is an apology. Please forgive me for kissing you and for the money.”

“Apology not accepted, Journalist Layla.”

The words hit harder than I expected. “What?”

He watched me for several long seconds. “Who’s the crazy person at your station who scheduled an interview for seven o’clock?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. “I thought the time was arranged between your planning department and our editor-in-chief. You knew it was set for tonight.”

“I don’t do interviews at this hour. I still have work to finish before I leave. Go back, reschedule with my PA, and come again.”

Sophie’s warning echoed in my head. We could not lose this interview. I kept my voice steady even though my pulse had started racing again. “Mr. Brown, if you can’t spare time now, I can interview you on your commute. That way I won’t interrupt your schedule. If we miss the deadline this week, the next issue of the magazine will have to be postponed.”

He stood, picked up a pen, and tapped it once against the desk. Then he walked toward me, unhurried. “My commute is still my personal time. Come back tomorrow at lunch. I’ll see you then.”

I tried again. “But… Mr.—”

“Leave now, Layla. Come back tomorrow.”

I turned and walked out. I felt his eyes on me the entire way until the doors closed behind me.

My phone rang inside my bag. I pulled it out and froze when I saw the name on the screen.

Nick.