Page 20 of Highest Bid

Layla waited until Collen had marched away, out of earshot, before she shook her head. “No. I want the same pay as anyone else. No favors because I’m sleeping with one of the bosses.”

Galan frowned. “Sleeping with me has nothing to do with it. You’re our best worker. You deserve it. You have no sick days, rarely take holidays, and you work your ass off. Believe me, it’s no favor.”

She took a big sip of her mojito, nearly choking on the potent white rum. She so wasn’t used to alcohol. How did her father drink his rum, whiskey, or tequila day-in and day-out? She spluttered, then cleared her throat. “I really think you need to talk to Liam and Aiden first.”

Galan’s frown deepened. “They wouldn’t argue against the idea. Jesus, Layla, they know how hard you work. They’ll probably clap me on the back for finally rewarding you, and wonder why they didn’t think of it themselves.”

She smiled. “In that case, if they really do agree, then I’ll be happy to accept your offer.”

He nodded. “Done.”

It was Ned who brought out their fish and chips to share. The chef eyed Layla quizzically before he set the big white platter down. “I also took the liberty of adding a fresh garden salad.”

Galan nodded. “Thanks, Ned. As usual you’ve outdone yourself.”

Ned beamed. “Let me know if you want anything else.”

Layla smiled at Ned, flustered more than a little by the one man who’d warned her off Galan. “Thanks, Ned. I can’t wait to try it.”

Ned turned to her, his stare cooling into a look of I hope you know what you’re doing. “Enjoy,” he said simply, before he turned and headed back to the rectangular thatched hut of his kitchen and the adjoining balcony bar.

“He doesn’t approve of you being with me?” Galan asked.

She took another sip of her drink, the burn not quite as powerful the second time around. She shrugged. “He’s not my keeper.”

Galan took a bite of one of the hot, battered chips. “Ned knows my reputation. Hell, he’s right to be concerned.”

She stabbed a fork into the salad, not particularly wanting to hear the truth from the horse’s own mouth. “I’m a big girl now. I didn’t go into this thing blind.”

Galan’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “So you’re happy to move on when I am?”

She popped the forkful of greenery into her mouth, distantly appreciating the lime and ginger dressing as much as the salad itself. She refused to dwell on anything negative tonight, refused to sour one of the most enjoyable days of her life. A pity her gut churned with emotion as she nodded and said, “I guess I am.”

Liar. You want a relationship with Galan.

Galan’s lips thinned. “I should be relieved.”

She broke off a piece of the fish, its batter cracking even above the chink of cutlery and the chatter of other diners. Even above the sound of her heart slowly breaking. “Of course you should. It’s what you want.”

“And what do you want?”

She swallowed the luscious battered piece of cod, before shamelessly feigning how easily she’d move on. “Not only have I had the best sex of my life, I’ve genuinely enjoyed my time with you. What more could a girl ask for?”

Her cell phone chimed just then, and she dug it out of her bag and checked caller ID. She frowned. Her dad rarely rang. Her stomach tying itself in knots, she answered the call.

Chapter Eight

Galan picked up a chunk of gold-battered fish and pushed it in his mouth. It was cooked to perfection, the crunch of the batter with the cod’s inner silky flesh a perfect combination.

He might as well be eating cardboard. It was unsettling to hear Layla talk about them almost as though they were already past tense. Fuck. He was getting too close, too invested.

He needed to take a step back and reassess.

Then Layla’s shocked gasp broke through his thoughts.

“So she’s really left you?”

She lifted wide eyes to Galan, her face a tight mask of shock. She pressed the phone closer to her ear, blocking out the background noise as the heel of her other hand massaged her brow. “Of course. I’ll be there soon. Just...please don’t do anything stupid.”

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