HIS PLUS SIZE BAD GIRL のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 91 - チャプター 100

Chapter 91. Mateo’s POV “You have been sitting in this room for forty minutes with your coat on, Layla, and nobody has come to ask you why, so I will ask it myself,” I said from the doorway of the small meeting room at the end of the corridor, with one hand on the frame and the door standing open behind me. She did not startle. She sat at the oval table with her bag on her lap and her hands folded over the clasp, looking at the dark window, where the lights of the city lay in rows below the glass and her own reflection sat faintly on top of them. It was a quarter past seven on Thursday evening, and the executive floor had been empty since half past six. I had waited until the last of the assistants went down in the lift before I came out of my office, because I had told her in the study that I would not come to her, and I had not yet decided whether this counted as keeping that promise. “I am not on the clock, sir,” she said. “I am only sitting.” “I did not ask whether you wer

Chapter 93. Layla’s POV “Close the door and sit in the chair by the window, because I have written down everything that I need to say, and I will not be able to say it if you touch me first,” I said, standing in the middle of the library with a folded sheet of paper in my hand. Mateo closed the door. He stood for a moment with his hand still on the handle, looking at me in the light of the single lamp, and then he crossed the room and sat down in the leather chair by the window with his hands resting on his knees. It was ten minutes past nine on Friday night, thirteen days after the Saturday that had ended in the study. My mother had left at eight that morning for a three day retreat organised by her charity committee at a lodge two hours into the hills, and she had kissed each of us on the cheek in the hall and told us to eat properly and not to stay up with our papers. Wyatt had not slept at the house since Wednesday. The cook had served dinner at eight, and she had gone to

Chapter 95 Layla’s POV “Mateo, wake up, because it is half past two and I have been lying here looking at you for an hour, and I cannot do it any longer,” I whispered, with my hand flat on his chest and my mouth against his shoulder. He woke slowly. His breathing changed first, and then his hand moved on my hip, and then he turned his head on the pillow and opened his eyes and looked at me in the light of the lamp that neither of us had remembered to switch off. “You have not slept,” he said, in a voice thick and rough with sleep. “I tried.” “What is wrong?” “Nothing is wrong, that is the problem.” I pushed myself up on one elbow so that I could see his face properly. “You have been asleep beside me for four hours with your hand on my hip, and every time you breathed I felt it, and I kept thinking about the thirteen nights when you were not here, and I could not stop.” He looked at me for a moment without saying anything. Then he lifted his hand from my hip and slid it

Chapter 97 Mateo’s POV “Tell her that you fell asleep before ten with your phone on silent, and that you did not hear the house line because your door was shut, and do not explain it any further than that,” I said quietly, standing at the foot of her bed with my shirt in my hand. Layla was sitting up against the headboard with the sheet pulled over her breasts and the phone pressed to her chest, and her face had gone the colour of the pillow. “She will hear it in my voice.” “She will hear that you have just woken up, which is true.” “Mateo.” “Call her now, before she rings the cook and the cook comes up those stairs to check on you.” She looked at me for a second longer, and then she nodded and dialled, and I went to the window and stood with my back to her so that she would not have to look at me while she did it. The garden below was grey and wet, and one of the gardeners was walking across the lawn toward the shed with a wheelbarrow. “Mom, I am so sorry,” she sai

Chapter 99 Layla’s POV “My clothes are in the library, Mateo, my jeans are on your bedroom floor, and my door is at the other end of the corridor past the top of the stairs, so tell me how I am supposed to get there before he comes up,” I whispered, standing in the middle of his room with the sheet wrapped around me and my heart pounding so hard that I could feel it in my throat. He was already pulling on his trousers. He did it quickly and without any wasted movement, the way he did everything when there was a problem in front of him, and he picked my jeans and my jumper and my underwear off the floor in one sweep and pushed them into my arms. “Put these on, and stay behind this door until you hear me on the stairs.” “What are you going to do?” “I am going to go down and meet him in the hall, and I am going to take him into the kitchen and ask him why he has come home two days early.” He fastened his belt and dragged a clean shirt out of the wardrobe. “The kitche