Clint And Layla Novels & Stories

She wished she could disappear into the floor. The man went on, "You act all innocent, but you're clearly enjoying this. Do you want some help, sweetheart?" Mortified, Layla clamped her legs together and hurried unsteadily back to the cockpit. "Mr. Clinton, they tore my skirt off!" she cried. As I watched her in that disheveled yet undeniably alluring state, satisfaction surged through me. The passengers clearly seemed pleased, and hiring Layla had proven to be the right decision.

Her eyes are as deep a blue as I remember. "Hi. I'm Layla Ambrigino! Your father hired me to watch Lorie while you were away. It's nice to finally meet you!" Layla says as she extends her hand out to me shaking me from my day dream. Does she not remember who I am? I think to myself as a sadness fills my chest. I quickly reach out and take her hand in mine. Her skin is soft and cool to the touch and I find myself not wanting to let go. "I am Nicolae Draven. It's a pleasure to meet you Layla. I want to apologize for my father leaving so abruptly and leaving you two alone." I reply with a forced smile.

I’m listening. She hit send before she could reconsider. The seconds stretched into an eternity, the silence of the office pressing in on her. Then, three pulsing dots appeared. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Denzel: You’re finally waking up. Took you long enough. Layla: Not on the phone. My apartment. Tonight. 8 PM.

Selena replied to him in an icy tone. “Hi there,” A voice startled them and they all looked behind to see who it was. It was Levi. “Can I, um, can I steal Clary here for a few minutes?” He asked as he flashed them a small smile. Selena had an amused look on her face. “Yeah, sure, Levi. Steal her away, please.” “No, no, no,” Ace interjected. “You see her sitting here with us, right?” “Yeah, I do,” Levi chuckled the words out. “But it looks like you and your wife are having a small fight while Clary sits here, enduring the torture,” He said, humor lacing his voice.

I ask her, wondering if she is hurt. “What do you mean?” she raises a perfect brow as an alpha and his luna approach us. “Never mind.” I shake my head as I turn to face the two. “La-Luna Layla, look at you, all married, and to the king.” One of the women – Chloe, if I remember correctly says as she looks at Layla, smiling sickeningly sweetly as if she hadn’t insulted her back then. “Chloe, is that you?” Layla’s eyes widen in surprise, and I cock a brow. She looks the same.

Liam was there too. I stopped dead in the doorway. They both turned at the same time, and for a moment, no one said anything. Adrian looked livid. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw clenched so tight it could’ve cracked. Liam, on the other hand, looked exhausted... pale, guilt written all over his face. “Layla,” Adrian said finally, his tone flat. “Congratulations. You’ve made us famous.” My heart sank. “Adrian, I...”

After that she did it again. “Oh honey, what's wrong. What did you eat” She said. Layla wiped her mouth and said sullenly “Its not what I ate… I’m pregnant” there was silence over them before She broke it. “come on you saying it as if someone died. I’m happy for you honey” she said hugging her tightly. “At least I get a godson or daughter and they laughed. They talked for a while before it became dark. At that point, She bade goodbye to her friend and headed home. Unknown to clare, she didn’t know that Layla was the on who was sleeping with Klaus. He had partnered with her to get a spell and a Portion but Klaus being who he was couldn’t say no to free sex.

Clinton mumbled suddenly. "What is it, Clinton?" I asked eagerly, then sat in front of him. I keep fidgeting in my seat because we only have 4 days before the war and our enemies are already marching towards Tibbertan Mountain. We have to hurry and convince Alex's beast to help us in the war. "Her mate." Clinton said. "What?! How? That jerk betrayed Alex!" Layla said furiously while clenching her fist tightly. "How could he help?" Lucia asked.

My fingers traced the edge of a well-worn coffee table, its surface marred with years of use. No wonder she took the tutoring job. One photo caught my eye—a much younger Layla, perhaps ten or eleven, sitting on a porch swing with Claire. They both smiled at the camera, ice cream cones in hand, looking happier than I’d seen either of them. But no father in sight. As I prepared to leave, footsteps approached the front door. The door swung open before Claire had returned from Layla’s room. A disheveled man stood in the entrance, alcohol fumes wafting from him. Claire emerged just then, freezing when she saw him.

She says, her voice tight as she tugs at Layla’s dress. “No, no, please let her.” I don’t bother hiding the amusement in my tone. “Isn’t it just great to have friends who can stand up for you, even when you’re constantly lying to their faces?” Layla lifts a brow in confusion while Claire looks to be on the verge of suffering a fatal heart attack. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re just jealous that Château Claire is doing far better than your scam company!” “Oh, really?” This is interesting