Page 25 of Highest Bid

His heart contracted almost painfully. God, he’d missed her. With her Doc Martens, her glasses back on, and her hair pulled tight into a bun, he’d never wanted her more.

Liam leaned close to Aiden and murmured loud enough for Galan to overhear. “Someone’s got it bad.”

Aiden arched a brow, but there was humor in his dark eyes. “I might just win that bet yet.”

Liam sighed, his blue eyes no longer full of mirth. “I’d hate to say it, but I think you’re right.”

Galan sent them a glower. “I hope the bet was worth it.”

Liam smirked. “To see you brought to your knees...most definitely.”

When the other suits’ conversations died out, Aiden turned an apologetic stare their way. “Sorry, gentlemen, it’s probably best we move our conversation to the more private location of a function room.” He waved a hand to the other side of the Garden Café, toward the function room that was normally reserved for wedding receptions. “This way.”

Galan nodded. “I’ll leave you all to finish off the finer details. But I’m happy to go with the once-weekly comedian act. We’ll do a press release and attention-grabbing posters on the walls of the nightclub and foyer. Anywhere with the heaviest foot traffic. We can also organize a team to put out flyers.”

“And, of course, we’ll make use of our usual social media campaigns,” Liam said. He winked at Galan, and added, “Leave it with us, brother. You have enough on your plate right now.”

Galan nodded, too on edge to react to the dig. Then Layla’s laugh diverted his attention completely. She was bent low, listening avidly to whatever the patron at the table was telling her.

The air punched out of Galan’s lungs. He’d been miserable the last four days, avoiding Layla, while she was clearly happy and carefree. She straightened and put a hand to her mouth, stifling another laugh, while giving Galan a perfect view of his competition.

Billy.

Galan’s hands fisted, his vision hazing with red. Though he was distantly aware of his brothers drawing away the marketing team, his attention didn’t once stray from Layla and the man who’d been hanging around the club and restaurant.

Billy hadn’t needed any auction to see Layla was special.

An alien sensation of insecurity surged through Galan like a tidal wave, bringing with it a burning sensation in his chest and stomach. He clenched his teeth. Had Layla already moved on?

He should turn around now and walk away, yet his legs wouldn’t move. Only his pulse jerked faster and faster. Then Billy said something to her that caused Layla to throw her head back and laugh yet again. It wasn’t until she snorted that something inside Galan snapped.

His legs unlocked, and he stalked toward Layla and the man she was damn well flirting with. But it was Billy who turned to him first, his nostrils flaring like prey scenting a predator.

Galan resisted staring down Billy and forcibly uncurled his fists as he focused on Layla.

She looked up at him, her eyes sharpening and her lips thinning. “Galan,” she said coolly, “to what do we owe this pleasure?”

“We need to talk,” Galan bit out.

She arched a fine dark brow. “I’m busy working.”

“Are you?” he bit out.

She flushed a little. “If you’re questioning my work ethics, I’m more than happy to leave right now.”

Galan rubbed at the instant ache in his temple. She was their hardest working employee. And he was an asshole. “Of course I don’t want you leave. I just want to talk.” He all but ground his teeth when he added, “It’s important.”

Layla blew out a breath, a tendril of her inky hair rising and falling. “Is that an order, Mr. Black?”

Ned hurried over to them, all too clearly as much Layla and Galan’s friend as he was Chef and employee. “Is everything all right here?”

Layla turned and smiled at the chef, her frostiness clearly reserved for Galan. “It’s all good, Ned.”

“Really?” Billy interjected. He sighed, his attention on Layla as he placed his cup onto its saucer with a gentle clink and said, “I thought you were a free agent now.”

Galan shot the man a steely look. “Whatever gave you that impression?”

Ned stepped between them, sweat beading on his smooth scalp. “Let’s not go there, gentlemen.” He turned to Galan. “Is there something I can do?”

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