Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Gray

Where the hell are you?

I’d turned on my phone as soon as we touched down, but still had no response from Layla. After my delayed flight, it was already almost eight o’clock here on the east coast. I’d assumed when she hadn’t responded earlier in the day that she’d been busy with work. But my messages were showing as read, and she must’ve had two minutes to shoot me a quick response by now.

Stepping off the plane with my carry-on luggage, a bad feeling came over me as I headed to the airport exit. I dialed Layla’s number. It rang once and went straight to voicemail—which meant she’d pressed ignore.

I wanted to think the best of the worst—I’d pissed her off somehow, and she was letting me know it. But the protective part of me couldn’t help but worry. What if she’d been walking to lunch and some asshole driver was texting and blew the red light while she was in the crosswalk? Or she got sick in the middle of the day and was sitting in an ER somewhere. My strides ate up the walk out of the airport. Al was picking me up. He’d be idling somewhere nearby since you couldn’t sit outside of JFK waiting for a passenger, so I texted him to pull around to the arrival terminal.

“Layla’s apartment.” I spoke before even slamming the door shut.

“You got it, boss.”

Al looked in the rearview mirror before pulling away, but also checked on me. “Good trip?”

I settled back into the seat. “Yeah. Just a long day.”

Traffic was light, so when we arrived at Layla’s, it was just about nine o’clock.

“Give me about ten minutes, and I’ll let you know what I’m doing.”

“You got it,” Al said.

I looked up at Layla’s window when I got out of the car. It was dark and showed no sign of anyone being home.

Her building had a vestibule with a locked door. A tenant had to buzz you in to unlock it. I pressed the bell and waited for her voice to come over the intercom.

But it never came. Three buzzes and one last-ditch attempt to get her on the phone were all fruitless. I ran my fingers through my hair, the knot in my stomach pulling tighter.

“1275 Broadway, Al.” I slammed the car door shut. “Layla’s office.”

Al glanced back again. “Everything okay?”

“I hope so.”

***

Archibald Pittman walked out the front door with another man just as my car pulled to the curb. The smart thing to do would have been wait until he was gone, but the ride from Layla’s apartment had elevated my anxiety to a whole new level. There was no fucking way I was wasting thirty seconds just to avoid her boss.

Striding to the door, I looked down at my phone to avoid making eye contact. It didn’t stop Pittman from noticing me.

“Grayson?” He stopped his conversation and called to me while I tried to pass.

I looked up. “Archie. Good to see you.”

“Are you heading upstairs at this late hour?”

I pulled an excuse out of my ass. “Time-sensitive contract, has to be sent back to the west coast tonight.”

“Glad to see my staff is looking after your needs.”

“Yes.” I offered a curt nod, anxious to get inside the building. “Well…time’s ticking. You have a good night.”

I was already four steps closer to the building before he could finish reciprocating his goodbye.

The elevator opened to Layla’s floor, and I was relieved to find the double glass doors still open. Of course, the reception desk was empty at 10PM, so I weaved my way into the inner offices. The hallways were lit, but most of the office doors were closed. I made the final turn, a left, and saw that the fourth door down—Layla’s office—was still open, although the lights were off.

I didn’t expect to see anyone, and since it was dark, I almost missed her when I first entered her office. But the lights suddenly flickered on. They must’ve been on a motion sensor that I’d activated by stepping inside. I found Layla sitting at her desk looking right at me.

My brows drew down. “Were you sleeping?”

“No.”

“What’s the matter?” Papers were scattered all over her desk, which was normally neat and organized. A few were even on the floor.

I took a few steps closer and got a better look at her face. The skin around her eyes was puffy and red. She’d been crying.

“Layla, answer me. Did someone hurt you?” My blood started to pump at what might’ve happened. All the worst thoughts started to run through my mind. She was alone in the office at night sitting in the dark…her desk was a disheveled mess…she’d been crying… Did someone attack her?

She stared, saying nothing. I walked behind her desk and turned her chair to face me. Crouching down, I tried to remain calm and keep my voice steady. “Layla. Talk to me. What happened, sweetheart?”

A page on the edge of her desk caught my eye, and I turned my head, sure I was seeing things. But I wasn’t.

I picked up the paper. The picture was a few years old, but there was no doubt it was Max. I remembered the article well. Kiplinger’s had done a story on the rise of women traders, and Max had been featured, along with a few other industry up-and-comers. The piece had come out a few months before we opened our firm.

My eyes traveled over the rest of her desk.

What the fuck?

I picked up another paper—an article about our partnership.

Another paper—the UCC filing on our partnership.

Another—copies of my criminal court sentencing documents.

The entire desk was covered in papers about me, Max, or our now-defunct firm.

Layla was looking at me when I turned my attention back to her.

“What happened. Why are you researching Max?”

She looked away, staring out her office window into the darkness outside for a minute before turning back. “I met her today.”

I searched her eyes, trying to hold back firing off a million questions because I saw there was more she needed to say.

She closed her eyes for a while, taking a deep breath before reopening them and then looked directly into my eyes. “She came to my office...with your daughter.”

***

“Start from the beginning, Layla.”

I’d had to take a seat after I made her repeat what she’d said three times and told her I had no idea Max had a child, much less one who could be mine.

“I had an appointment on the calendar with a new client named Mackenzie. I had no idea Max was short for Mackenzie, so I didn’t think anything of it.” Layla’s voice was eerily calm. “The woman showed up and acted really strange. She had a little girl sleeping in the stroller. She said her partner stole six million dollars from her. Then her daughter woke up and—she was beautiful…. She had your exact same green eyes. Only I didn’t realize they were yours at first. When I complimented them, she said the little girl had her father’s eyes.”

“And she said it was my child?”

“You really had no idea?” She looked back and forth between my eyes.

“Of course not!” I stood and began to pace. “This is fucking nuts. I can’t have a child with her.”

“Why not?”

“Why would she have kept it from me?”

“Why would she steal from you and set you up when you both had more money than you knew what to do with already?”

I sat back down. With elbows on my knees, I held my head in my hands while I rubbed my temples. “I can’t answer that. Because none of it ever made sense to me.”

Layla was quiet for a moment. Her voice sounded so vulnerable and scared when she spoke. “You really didn’t know?”

It was at least the third time she’d asked me that question. Jesus Christ. I was so busy getting over the shock of what she’d told me, I hadn’t even begun to think about what this meant to the two of us if it were true. Looking up, I saw so much pain in her eyes. Suddenly everything I’d waited to have for more than two years felt like it was slipping through my fingers.

I got up and walked back around behind her desk, where she still sat in her chair. Crouching down again, I took her face in my hands. “I haven’t seen Max in more than a year. Last I’d heard, she’d moved to Florida. I didn’t even know she was in New York, and certainly not that she was coming to see you and playing some sort of sick game. I had no idea she had a child, and I wouldn’t put it past her for this entire thing to be made up, Layla. You have to believe me.” I moved my face closer so all we could see was into each other’s eyes. “I had absolutely no idea about any of this. No idea.”

She searched my face and nodded.

I let out a sigh of relief, even though I knew it was only temporary.

The sound of keys jingling forced my attention from Layla to the hall, just as a uniformed security guard stopped in the doorway. “Building closing in fifteen, Layla.”

She nodded. “Oh. Okay, Frank. Thanks.”

The guard looked at her face and me crouched down beside her. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. We’ll clear out in a few minutes.”

He nodded. “Have a good night.”

When he walked away, I pushed hair from her cheek. “You look exhausted. Come home with me.”

She shook her head and started to sweep all the papers strewn over her desk into a pile with her hands. “I have Freckles at my house, remember? Plus, I’m exhausted. I really want to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

She was already slipping away from me mentally. I couldn’t let physical distance add to that. “Can I come home with you, then?”

I saw the hesitancy in her face.

“I’ll sleep on the couch if you need some space. Just don’t push me out the door and close it, Layla. Please.”

Reluctantly, she nodded.

That night, she let me sleep in her bed. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her tight, holding on for my life. Because I knew. I knew. The shit was about to hit the fan tomorrow.