Page 30 of Highest Bid

Her father bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Galan drew Layla close even as he shot back, “If you don’t understand now, you never will. Your daughter came here hoping to find her parents happy, and what does she get in return?”

Her mom’s eyes glittered as she stared at Galan, her lips thinning until either side of her mouth creased into hard lines, and her youthful beauty disappeared. “How dare you! You think you know us because you know our daughter? You’re a stranger to us, and you’re no longer welcome in our home.”

Layla stiffened. “Does the truth hurt, Mom?”

Her dad’s face turned blotchy red. “That’s enough out of you, too, Layla! You should know better, after everything your mother’s been through.”

“And what about what I’ve been through, Dad? Or doesn’t that count?”

Her dad’s eyes narrowed, as though seeing her through a different lens. “Nothing compares to a mother’s loss,” he gritted out.

Layla’s voice rose. “Says the man who turned to alcohol and indiscriminate sex for comfort!”

Stunned silence filled the room, and Galan turned to Layla, his face softening as he murmured, “Let’s go home, firecracker.”

She nodded mutely, numb to everything but the man beside her. He was her rock in quicksand, her one surefire escape from the emotional quagmire that was her parents.

Her mom and dad appeared too stunned, and didn’t say a word as Galan escorted her to the front door and then outside. Only once she was safely back inside Galan’s SUV and on the road, did Galan glance her way.

“I’m sorry your parents don’t see you for the incredible woman you are.”

She wilted against the passenger seat, his words warming the cold center in her chest, even as she conceded starkly, “I guess I’ve never been the child they wanted.”

He reached for her hand, and gently squeezed. “You chose SIDS as your charity because your family lost a baby.”

It wasn’t a question. He was too astute for that. But it didn’t stop the all-too-familiar ripple of pain whenever she had to face the memory. She nodded, her voice cracking. “My little brother. He was only two weeks old when Mom woke to find him unresponsive in his cot.”

“Jesus, Layla.” He clasped her hand for a moment and gave it a squeeze. “Did they forget you lost a sibling, too?”

She shrugged, weary to the bone. “They coped with their grief in different ways. Mom with her dancing and other men’s admiration, and Dad with his alcohol and women.”

“How old were you when you lost your brother?”

“Seven.”

“Seven.” His eyes glittered. “You were little more than a baby yourself. How did you cope all alone while they went off the rails?”

She exhaled carefully, her mind a jumble of memories she’d put away so long ago. “I...retreated into myself.”

“Yet another reason you never dressed in lingerie for the nightclub,” he muttered. “Not only didn’t you want to be like your mother, you didn’t want to be exposed,” he turned to her and added softly, “or hurt.”

He was right. She’d tried so hard not to be an introvert. But the school formal had proven to her that pretending she was something she wasn’t could only fail.

She bit into her bottom lip, fighting back sudden tears. “You’re in the wrong business. You should have been a counsellor.”

He stopped at the traffic lights, his eyes sweeping over her. “It doesn’t take much insight to read your pain.” He scrubbed a hand over his face before looking out the windshield at the countless cars and their dazzling headlights. “Your parents have been assholes.”

“Different than your parents, then?” she asked softly, tentatively.

He glanced back at her. “Layla, don’t ever feel as though you need to tiptoe around me with questions because my parents are dead.” The light turned green, and he gripped the steering wheel once again before he accelerated smoothly. “My parents were wonderful. But, like most families, they had their own...issues.”

She blinked. She’d imagined such a fairytale upbringing, which was crazy when she’d never met his mom and dad. But with Galan and his brothers so switched on and successful, it was hard to imagine a shitty upbringing.

Before she could probe some more, Galan stated, “I’m staying at your apartment tonight.”

She smiled, relieved this once by his arrogant dominance. She didn’t want to be alone, not tonight. She needed him with everything she had.

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