Page 23 of Seeking Vengeance

She contemplates me for a moment, probably wondering whether to lie while she takes another sip of alcohol.

“Layla,” she gently murmurs.

Victory consumes me, rushing hot and fast through my veins.

She’s telling the truth.

I’m not sure how I know, but I do.

“Do you have a surname, Layla?”

“Yes.” She answers simply, without elaboration.

Fuck me, she’s phenomenal. All sass and charm.

I can’t help but snicker, and it’s beyond rewarding when she follows suit, chuckling along with me.

“Okay, Layla. I don’t need anything more than your given name.”

She raises a taunting brow. “Good for you.”

“Don’t get me wrong,amore mio. I’m happy to delay the exchange of information, but you’re going to eventually give me a few more details. I need to know the history of the future mother to my children.”

More laughter tumbles from her lips. Whimsical, entrancing laughter. “You need to stop before I choke on your massive ego.”

I’d love to give her something else to choke on. I can already picture it.Feelit. But I need to be cautious of her boundaries. I won’t risk losing her again.

“Take off the wig.” I gentle the demand. “Let me look at who you really are.”

Her mirth tapers under seriousness. “Not here.”

“Then we’ll leave. I’ll take you somewhere more subdued.”

She pauses. Hesitates. “I haven’t had dinner.”

It’s not a rejection. If anything, it’s an open door of opportunity.

I pull my wallet from the inside pocket of my suit jacket and place some bills on the table. “Come on.” I push from my seat and hold out a hand. “I’ll find us somewhere more appropriate to eat.”

9

Layla

Matthew leadsme from the restaurant and into the chilled fall air, the sound of Denver’s nighttime traffic bustling around us.

I shouldn’t be doing this again. It’s stupid.

Problem is, this sizzling chemistry is potent enough to deafen the thoughts of caution.

“Your friend isn’t joining us tonight?” I shoot him a sideways glance as I take off my glasses and place them in my purse, my heart thudding harder when he looks my way.

“Bishop?” He returns his attention to the path ahead. “He’s always around.”

“He’s here?” I spin, scanning the sidewalk behind us as we continue walking.

The ogre isn’t visible. Not hiding in the entries to closed shopfronts. Not lingering in alleys.

“He has eyes on us from somewhere.”

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