Disclaimer: This story is rated T+/ M (Mature) Content may be suitable for persons ages 17 and older. Will most likely contain intense violence, blood and gore, sexual content, and strong language.
Layla's Pov
The valet from my dad's apartment building pulled up to Canlis. The high-end restaurant I was told to meet him at.
I was early. In my flustered state, I drove a little too quickly after Jacob's stunt. His kiss on my cheek kept my heart at flight for far longer than it should have.
Under the cloudy night, the modern geometric building lit up like a prism. It sat on a rustic cobblestone base, grounding it in a cluster of trees overlooking the distant water.
The host helped me out of the cab. I adjusted my red satin cocktail dress when I stood.
I was led to the reservation, a wide white-clothed rectangle table that could easily seat eight people.
It was near the center of the room, but an arched wall made the setting private.
Taking the end seat, I scooted closer to the embedded fireplace in the wall and texted my father, awaiting his ETA.
Minutes later, all the overhead lights were dimmed for dining hours. The only bright lights emitted were tiny twinkling tea candles delicately placed on each tabletop.
Another thirty minutes went by, and the waiter returned with sympathy.
"Still no Wren?" I asked. "I believe they are too tardy to dine with you. Don't worry, I won't take away your reservation, ma'am, but I'm afraid I will have to separate the table," That was no problem. I stood up, allowing the staff to separate the large table into multiple two tops.
"That's fine; I was only expecting one," I informed him. "May I offer a glass of wine while you wait?" He asked to make up for the inconvenience.
I thought about it. I did have my fake ID for tomorrow night. I want to test it out while I have my dad to bail me out if it doesn't work.
"I'll take a flight sample of the house wines." "Of course." He disappeared momentarily.
I texted Wren again, setting my phone face up. Drumming my fingers in nervous wait.
A group of men in all-black, matching tailored suits entered the dining hall. All except the man behind them; he was dressed similarly but in a burgundy undershirt and pocket protector, carrying something that resembled a walking cane. He didn't seem to need it, though.
I couldn't help but stare. They looked like they stepped out of an old Hollywood black-and-white picture, and their movements were congruently graceful.
All that was missing were the fedora hats and pinstripes. I giggled to myself.
They settled in a half-booth table setting several paces over.
I wondered for a moment what they did for work and if they knew my father. I didn't recognize any of them, but then again, I didn't pay much attention to the few work functions Wren made me attend.
I kept glancing over. It was weird. Most people shied away from their table, and only one attendant served the large group. None of them ordering anything.
I sipped the red wine from the flight just before me for the courage to speak to one of them.
My heart pounded, feeling stupid for contemplating the interruption. I made my way over anyway.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, they were all too deep in conversation to notice my approach.
"That. was. sloppy." Hissed a man with cropped black hair. "Like you could do better." Another across from him argued.
"Everything is fine. All is resolved." Spoke a platinum blond with a thin Russian accent. His dismissive tone offset their heated discussion but didn't end it.
"You don't know if they've already seen it." The spindly black-haired man retorted.
"We don't need an investigation; imagine if someone from the Voltari-" I was noticed.
My eyes locked with the burgundy shirt at the end, where I stood closest. He was a comely Italian man with long ebony hair tied back.
And he was clearly in charge. By raising a hand at the table, it was enough for them to silence their speech.
His magnetizing reddish-brown eyes were so focused on me that it my mouth dry. Or was that because of the red wine?
"How can I help you, my Bella?" He took my hand and kissed the top. His nostrils flared, and his eyes darkened more intensely.
I tried to free my hand. His grip was like iron.
"I'm sorry to bother you. I'd like to know if my father is joining you this evening."
"Who?" I felt the strange tangible magnetism leap from his eyes. There was a pull.
Much like his hand, a cold grip reached inside me for an answer, like a compulsion. Like if I didn't answer, the weight of his words could crush me.
"Wren Moon, attorney at-" I gave my father's place of work. "The name sounds familiar, but no. We have no business tonight." He answered.
"I'm so sorry to have interrupted you then." I shivered.
"Not at all." His lips pulled back into a devastating smile. By his sheer charisma alone, I bet anyone would jump off a bridge if he asked.
"I'll head back to my table now." I winced at my dark thought and tugged my hand again. This time he freed me so I could return to my seat.
Embarrassed, I let my gaze drop to the floor and hurried back. I swear I felt all their eyes bore into my back.
I lifted the menu to hide my face, almost knocking my glasses over.
"Are you still dining with us? Or shall I seat you with-" The waiter returned. "I need another minute."
I felt like running, sprinting if I physically could. I thought about ditching my dad and ordering takeout back to the apartment.
My eyes drifted to their table when I thought it was safe again. To my surprise, most of them were gone now; only three lingered, whispering to one another.
They arrived after I did, and not one had even ordered a drink.
I nearly jumped out of my skin a moment later when the man I spoke with stood behind the chair across my table.
"I didn't mean to startle you, Miss. I only wished to know your name."
I thought it would be rude if I didn't answer, so I did. "Layla."
"Layla," My name rolled off his tongue like mesmerizing music. Another shiver ran up my spine.
"Let me dine with you." His words weighed again. I gestured for him to sit like an invisible marionette spring had been pulled.
"It should be a crime to keep a lady waiting. Tell me, what have you ordered?" He asked. "I haven't. I was thinking about leaving." I answered honestly.
He snapped his fingers, and a waiter almost literally fell at his feet.
"She'll have the five courses." His tone made it clear that it would be served immediately.
"That's alright-" "You seem famished." I was about to argue when my stomach snarled. I had skipped lunch, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could wait.
"I thought so." He answered. The waiter came back. The man's reddish-brown eyes shifted to him.
"Mr. Foscari, what will you be having?" "Number 19." He answered.
"Of course, Sir." The waiter's voice trembled. He headed for the wine cellar in haste.
My first plate arrived from another. "Go ahead."
"Thank you, Mr. Foscari." I thanked him. Once I've eaten enough, I would leave.
"Call me Niccolò. Niccolò Foscari." "Niccolò." His name flowed off my tongue, instantly bewildering me. I smiled politely.
"So what is it that you do for work?" I inquired conversationally. "I am a businessman of sorts, and I claim a lot of assets."
As I ate and he continued to speak. "Mostly Real estate, some finance, but I truly excel at contracts."
I nodded, pacing myself with the food. "Tell me, What is it that you do? What are you doing here?"
"...I'm a dancer, visiting my father from out of town." I obliged minimally. The second course switched out.
I took a sip of the next sample of wine, and my face twisted in response. The red blend was grainy and tasted sour.
Mr. Foscari swiftly took my glass and smelled the rim. "Expired." He spoke in a droll tone.
"Excuse me, sir?" The server stopped. "I said this wine has expired." His eyes flashed in what could only be described as subtle danger.
"What's your name?" Niccolò inquired. "Alberto." "Alberto-" He gestured for him to come close with one long finger.
Mr. Foscari whispered something in his ear, and Alberto's face immediately drained of all color. He darted off.
One of the suited men waited for him on the far side of the room.
"It is so hard to find competent help these days. What has this century come to?"
"Microwaved meals and mediocre mindsets," I mumbled, only joking to myself to lighten the tense atmosphere I witnessed.
To my surprise, Niccolò heard me and laughed. "You really are something...How does everything taste?"
"Good." I eagerly received the third course.
I continued to clear my plates until the first server returned with a dark-tinted wine glass set for Niccolò.
While appraising me, he took a long sip of his wine. And during that time, I swear the color of his eyes grew brighter more red tan brown... or perhaps it was just the candlelight burning between us.
When he pulled the cup from his lips, I also noticed his free hand on top of the table tremor and clench into a fist. I was about to ask him if he was alright when the host returned to inform me the reservation was canceled.
"Why didn't he tell me?" I whispered to myself. He set the bill on the corner of the tabletop. I was no longer hungry and set my napkin on the table.
"Excuse, Mr. Foscari, but I have to call my father." I excused myself to the lady's room to make that call.
"And give him a piece of my mind," I muttered in passing.
My dad finally picked up. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. I got held up at the office. Someone had already ordered takeaway for the office and-"
"You could have told me," I spoke, peeved. "Are you already at Calis?"
"Duh, I've started eating without you." "I'll call the front desk and pay." He apologized again and then offered to make it up by taking me out for breakfast.
I knew Wren needed rest, and that promise would most likely fail. "How about lunch? I need to pick up Ashely and Brianna from the airport anyways."
He agreed and said he'd meet me back at home soon. Relieved, I headed back out to deal with my self-imposed dinner guest.
I stood next to the table to address Niccolò. "Thank you for your time and company, but I must get going."
He stood up, standing no taller than five foot eight. "So soon? I was hoping to take you dancing." Niccolò frowned, adjusting his cuff links.
I eyed the contents of his cup. A thick liquid, deep crimson... his hand covered the top of the glass.
"Please, call me Niccolò from now on." He instructed. "I'm sorry, I can't do that."
"Why not?" He seemed baffled.
I stretched my leg to show him the fiberglass binding entrapping my ankle. This was the first time I'd been grateful for the limitation.
"Perhaps next time you are in town." His hungry eyes traced up my leg and up to my face. Then he held an arm out for me to take.
I took it uncertain of this move. His coworkers seemed to have disappeared entirely.
"The bill." I gasped, stopping in remembrance on my way out.
"Already covered." Niccolò signaled an all-black SUV to pick us up. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I pulled out my cell phone to call for the valet. Niccolò's cool hand covered it.
"Humor me. I promise to drive you home safely."
Then the phone rang on its own. He removed himself so I could answer.
"Your bill was covered when I called. Who are you with right now?" My dad asked.
"Um, Niccolò Foscari." I looked at the crimson eyes watching me. He smirked and held out a hand for the phone. I eyed him suspiciously.
"Thee Foscari? As in Foscari Funding-"Niccolò took the phone I barely lifted from my face.
"If you don't mind, I'll return your daughter. Yes. I look forward to hearing from you in the near future too, Wren." He handed my cell phone back.
Wren seemed fully persuaded, and I was to let this stranger drive me.
I guess a quick fifteen-minute drive wouldn't kill me.
We made light conversation all the way, but I was all too eager to dismount this vehicle.
Upon arrival, Niccolò already held the door. Was I still that slow, or did he move that fast?
"What are you doing?" I asked. "I pride myself in being a gentleman. I would walk you to the door, but I have a suite here also."
I controlled my expression in hopes not to offend him. I was almost to my father. I reasoned with myself.
"The Penthouse." He shared in a bragging tone.
We stepped into the art deco-decorated lobby and made out way towards the golden double doors of the elevator.
The staff greeted him, so he wasn't lying. I adjusted the hem of my dress in the reflection of the metallic doors.
When they opened, he pulled me into the completely mirrored space, all except for the black and white tile floor beneath us.
"Floor number?" He asked. "Eleven." I untangled my arm from him, but he kept a hand on my waist.
The lift jolted us up, and I fell into his side. In the reflection, his nostrils flared again. His expression was untraceable.
"Your smell, I mean your perfume, is intoxicating."
Was I still smelling like Rose's perfume from the clothes? No, I took a shower...washed most of the clothes. I tuned out what Niccolò was prattling on about.
"Like a rare Lily of the valley, with the indistinct sweetness of honey and a hint of jasmine, Che meraviglia."
"I'll have to check my bottle. I have no idea what I'm wearing." I chuckled nervously, looking away. I cleared my throat after the white lie.
I wasn't wearing perfume. My nose was too sensitive for most.
"My apologies. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable." Too late for that, I thought.
The elevator slowed to a stop at my given floor. It opened to a charcoal wallpaper twisting in patterns that could only remind me of thorns.
And the carpeted floor was black, highly contrasting with our shiny transport.
"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call." He spoke in that velvety compelling tone that was meant to be reassuring.
His cool breath stunned me at his last word, making me take a few steps back as the doors closed.
"Thank you." I managed to find my breath.
"Good night, Layla Moon." His slow-spreading smile unhinged something in me.
I was petrified there for a moment. Watching the elevator light climb to make sure he was gone.
Then irrationally, I sprinted down the hall toward my dad's suite.
Once at the door, I violently inserted the key, twisting the handle to enter.
"Layla? Is something wrong?" My dad hugged me, concerned. "Dad! No. Um, the hallway... is it always that dark?"
"Ah, I've been telling the front desk about that. I dropped my keys once, and finding them took me five minutes. If they're dying to be modern, then they should hitch a light up somewhere. " He walked me to the living space, where he had his post-night-out glass of scotch before bed.
"I had no idea Pam was retiring. Someone surprised her with cake, balloons, the whole bit. I planned to dip out, but then I was called back-" Wren sat back on the couch, loosening his tie, eyes looking heavy and glassy.
"It's okay, Dad. We can hang out tomorrow." I assured him. "You must be tired from the drive. It's good to see you, kid."
"Yeah, good night." I waded into the closet-sized guest space. My nerves were still a live wire, and my heart rate gradually slowed.
I had no reason to rush in the hall like that or to be so freaked out. Niccolò had been nothing but generous.
I let out a short scream of surprise when my phone rang. "Hello?" I asked a little breathlessly.
"Layla. Why haven't you called me?" Jacob's frustrated voice, however, irked, instantly calmed me down.
"Hey, Jake," I spoke, relieved. "I just got back. Dinner took longer than I thought."
"Oh, right. Sorry." Jacob apologized. "I'm glad you called," I spoke impulsively.
"Yeah? Why's that?" "It's just good to hear your voice." I blushed, unsure where I was getting my sudden burst of courage.
"When you get back, you might just get to see me too. Wild, huh?" He joked. I let out a shaky laugh.
"How are things with your dad?" He asked. I was glad Jacob wasn't making a big deal about my confession.
"Fine, he was out with coworkers, so hopefully, I can get him alone tomorrow to find out what I need." I yawned.
"What do you need?" "Hm." I leaned back on the bed, exhausted.
"Long story. Tell me, what are you up to?" I listened to Jacob's voice, wishing I could focus on what he was saying until I lost consciousness.
The damp collection of my own sleep slobber woke me, along with an alarm for school on my phone that I forgot to turn off.
"Shoot." I checked the call log since I didn't recall hanging up on Jake. I'd been on the phone with him for almost three hours before I passed out.
I groaned, getting up and ready for the day. Normally I'd try to sleep in since it was Saturday, but I was too eager to interrogate my father.
Wren was still passed out on the couch from last night. I tip-toed around him to pull a throw blanket on him, then headed for the kitchen to check the fridge.
I could butter him up with some breakfast, but the options looked stark or overridden with mold. After cleaning the fridge instead, I visited the nearest coffee shop to grab something for us.
When I returned with two bagel breakfast sandwiches and coffee, I discovered my dad was fully dressed in business attire. I almost kicked over a mini rolling suitcase left by the door.
"Layla! I thought you left for the mall with your little friend. Brittney?" I set the drinks on the counter.
"Brianna." I corrected. "What's this? You're off this weekend." I asked, nudging his bag with my foot.
"Goldman called. Patterson got into a jet ski accident, and my backup is sick. He won't be able to make the New York conference." His expression turned sympathetic.
"I had two guys lined up to cover for me, sweetheart. What am I supposed to do?" "At least let me drive you to the airport." I groaned.
I could get a word from him trapped in the car.
Traffic was too smooth, and Wren was glued to his Bluetooth. I'd answered his questions first, like how school was going and how I was doing.
"Did things go well with Mr. Foscari?" He asked enthusiastically as I approached the drop-off line. "How are things going with Lily?" I countered.
"I haven't heard a peep from your mother or what's happening." I locked the car door and narrowed my eyes at him creeping my car along without pulling over.
Dad knew I'd do another lap around the airport to make him late if he didn't share something.
"The hearing is in November. My stance is to have you stay with me. My schedule should free up in the near future, and your mother has dominated your childhood."
I held my peace and kept from scoffing so he would share more.
"Lily is working through an investigation as we speak. We'll discuss it when I return two weeks from now."
I scowled at him. So he did know some things.
"There wasn't anything sketchy." I defended in a half lie.
"So far, she's clean. I can't say the same about the company she keeps..." Wren acknowledged.
I pulled over to the last possible departure spot to let Wren off before I swung around to the arrivals for my friend.
"Thank you for coming out. Sorry about the turnout." He reached an arm around me and pressed his smooth-shaven face against mine.
"It was good to see you, Dad, " I spoke earnestly, even if only for a moment.
Wren leaned back in and handed me a stack of cash. "For gas, food, and your shopping trip. I would've used that to treat you this weekend anyways."
I thanked him again, waving him off.
I stuffed the contents into my purse and pulled through the loop. I wished Wren didn't have the habit of throwing money at me.
As if that could solve all our problems.
Brianna came running out of the lower deck of the airport. "Laaaaaaaay!" She almost spilled coffee in the center console by hugging my neck.
"Are these for me? You're so thoughtful!" Brianna claimed the coffee and sandwich my dad left behind. "It is now." I laughed.
"It's so good to see you. You don't even know." I gave her a light squeeze. "I have so much to tell you." Brianna clicked her seatbelt as I took off for the mall.
"Where's Ashely? And everyone else..." "Ash can't make it. Her stepdad wouldn't let her come." She explained.
Her parents had always been overprotective, so I could see why she couldn't fly last minute. "It does leave us with an extra ticket."
I shook my head at the news wasn't exactly encouraging. "Kendra and Elaine are arriving later. We'll meet them at the rave."
As if Brianna could read my mind, she answered my internal question. "Don't worry, Cassie isn't coming."
The tension in my shoulder's loosened. "Good," I noted, sipping my coffee and merging onto the highway.
"We're going to have a great night, okay? And we'll take lots of pics for Ash." Brianna turned on the radio to cheer me up.
"So you can rub Manic Pixie in her face?" I questioned, referring to her favorite female DJ playing at the docks tonight.
"Of course. Why else?" Brianna grinned.
With arms full of shopping bags, I filled my friend in on my time in La Push, hoping she'd share the details with Ashely when she returned to LA.
"Wait, so you're telling me you fell off a cliff and didn't call us? You totally almost died!" "I was kind of out of it for a couple of days," I admitted.
"And you mean to tell me you're not dating the hottie who saved your life? Let alone marry him." Brianna edged, completely invested in my retellings.
"Um, no." I flipped through the rack of long sleeves in front of me. "Oh, wait, is he not that cute or something?" She probed.
"No, Jacob's...handsome." My face heated up, so I ducked for the lower rack.
Brianna separated the hangers to see me. "Then what's the problem?!" She spoke excitedly, almost squealing.
"Keep it down! It's a little soon. Don't you think?" I pushed the clothes back together so that I was out of view.
"No!" She reopened the rack again like a curtain. "So tell me what this Jacob looks like."
"B, please." I rolled my eyes, embarrassed.
"Could I ask you, ladies, to stop playing with the rack?" The sale associate addressed us.
Brianna gasped, her thin eyebrows arching. "Has anything happened?" She asked with implication and a wink.
I groaned, walking away. Brianna chased me down, then linked her arm with mine.
"Hey!" "Don't be such a prude." She chided.
"Brianna," I warned. She started dragging me off towards Veronica's Secret.
"I need a few things," B smirked mischievously. "No, you think I need a few things," I complained.
"A couple of matching sets won't kill you." Brianna kept dragging me toward the pink and black striped store.
There was no stopping her. I caved, following her inside with a deep sigh.
"I need a coat; it's getting cold... maybe some sweatshirts, and definitely more jeans without holes. Maybe shoes too?" I rattled off a list reminding her to keep the time spent here minimal.
"And we'll get to it. Now tell me! What does your dream boat look like?" She wasn't letting this go.
I grumbled in defeat and described Jacob to her. She listened carefully, pulling things off the hangers and holding them up to me.
I ignored her and crossed my arms, not intending to buy anything.
"Do you have a picture of him?" She asked. "No, why would I?" Some cute pajamas caught my eye.
"Well, you should. He sounds hot, and Ashely will want to see who we're talking about." Brianna went to the register with me, not too far behind.
"You're getting all that?" I questioned, arching a brow. She ignored me, continuing to pay.
"But if you do happen to have a pic you're not showing me..." She sang. "I promise only to show Ash. Okay, maybe Liam or Logan if they're being a dicks that day."
"I'll meet you outside the store B." It would take me time to get upfront with my splint anyway.
"You can thank me later." Brianna sang again, shoving a large pink-striped bag onto my heavily loaded arm.
"Now, what's next?" I asked. "Shoes." We both answered at the same time. It was lame and superficial, but the retail therapy made it feel like home.
"No one would get away with that if Ash and I were around." Brianna was pissed when I explained my ankle situation.
"It doesn't matter." I pulled some clothing options out for the night.
We were crammed in the guest bathroom inside my dad's apartment, getting ready for the rave.
"It kind of does. Sounds like you have some competition to stomp out." Brianna referred to Molly, who I thought pushed me.
"What does it matter, B? I'm hopefully moving back to LA after this semester." I sat on the floor, straightening my hair while B opened the makeup bag on the counter.
Brianna was quiet for a moment, deep in thought. "Layla, I know I say this a lot, but you need to let loose a bit. Take this time for yourself."
"You don't have either parent breathing down your neck; your annoying brother is abroad, so you don't have to be the 'good' kid for them anymore." She separated her long hair into parted pigtails.
"Dance is on the back burner, and you have this guy-" She overindulged in hairspray, making me cough. "I get it."
"I don't think you do." Brianna cut her usual bubble tone.
Despite her enthusiastic personality, she never failed to share the truth when it mattered. It was one of the main reasons were friends.
When Brianna saw her words sink into me, she reverted back to her normal self.
"And if you hadn't screwed up your ankle, I would've made you dance all night." B continued attaching some tensile-filled extensions around the base of her pigtails.
I stuck my tongue out at her in the mirror. "And we wouldn't leave until you made out with at least one of them," Brianna laughed, helping me up from the floor.
"I don't want to kiss a stranger." I pouted. "Not a stranger, huh?" Brianna giggled.
"Oh, Shut up. Turn around already." I zipped up the back of her Barbie-pink bodycon sequined dress.
"How do I look?" Brianna spun around. "Amazing. You're going to sparkle so hard the disco will break." I complimented and then slipped into what I was wearing.
"A little black dress moment? Yes! No, that's better than I was going to recommend." I adjusted the straps on my dress, waiting for Brianna to finish her makeup so she could help me with mine.
My phone lit up on the counter. I grabbed it before it vibrated off, or that B could see Jacob's name pop up.
"Who is it?" She asked, lifting her mascara wand. "Nobody."
"Hey, I saw your dad's bar cart had some vodka. Want to make us a drink before we go?"
"Sure." I set the phone on silent and face down. I was more than willing to distract her with booze.
I returned with two scotch glasses of vodka cranberry.
"Thanks! Okay, your turn." She sat me down and started on a sultry look. Then finished by lining my lower lid with shimmery liner.
"Perfect, have a look." Brianna stepped back, handing me a glossy nude lip a shade darker than my caramel skin.
I leaned toward the mirror, swiping the color across. Once, Twice, Three times.
I heard a camera app click. "B! I wasn't ready! Who are you sending that to?"
"I wanted to include Ashely." She smirked triumphantly. "Oh, okay, then we need to get one with the both of us." I stood up, wrapping an arm around her.
After a frenzy of pics, Brianna bounded off for her wallet. "Now finish your drink, girl! We gotta go!"
Jacob's Pov
I kept tabs on the news during my apprenticeship in Port Angeles this morning.
The 'Dumpster Fire Killer' supposedly had been caught, confessed, and charged with four murders. That left only one victim unaccounted for.
It settled me to know Seattle might be that much safer, but I still couldn't shake the itching feeling that something wasn't right.
From what the other imprinted wolves have said, being away from their imprint for any length of time was difficult. And the longer the time spent with your imprint tied you tighter rather than nullify that longing.
After running around the cliffs that afternoon, I ate a quick meal at Billie's before I ran over to Embry's place.
When I joined them, they were playing some go-cart video game. He only had two remotes, so we were rotating on who played the winner.
I cracked open a soda can, watching from the couch while the guys duked it out.
My cell phone beeped at me. I rushed to check it.
Layla had texted me around noon, apologizing for falling asleep on me last night. I didn't mind so much. The sound of her breathing helped me fall asleep too.
She was shopping with her friend today, so I didn't want to bug her too much.
But the evening had come and gone now.
I pressed to open the text. It was an image that instantly sent me.
My throat tightened, and my heart raced.
I choked on my soda, spraying it over both of my friends.
"Gah!" "What the hell, man?" Quil played through the mess beating Embry.
"All over the carpet? My mom's going to kill me!" Embry complained. "You mean like usual?" Quill laughed, tossing a roll of paper towels at him.
"What is it?" Quil asked me.
I was still frozen, staring at my phone screen. My heart kicked in third gear.
It was a picture of Layla in a stunning black dress. She was the single most...
"Jake?" One of the guys shook me. "Earth to Jake."
"Ooooh, sexy." Embry snickered, peering over my shoulder.
I shoved him hard to the floor. Leaning on him so he couldn't get up.
He continued to laugh under my crushing weight.
"And we thought things weren't going well." Embry gasped, laughing. "Yeah?" Quil paused the game.
"Mom's going to ground you again if you guys break something!" Tiffany yelled from the other room.
Embry escaped from my grasp. "So what did she send?" Quil asked.
"None of your business." I went back to look at the picture, not answering them.
My eyes traced the back cut out of her dress, over her curves, then settled on her lips that she focused hard on in the mirror.
"Leave him be. Let's go another round. Especially since you cheated." Embry challenged Quil. "Hey, I didn't cheat."
Then another text message popped up after the picture. 'Courtesy of ~B ;)'
Who was B? Did that mean Layla didn't send this?
Hold up. More importantly, where was she going dressed like that, with a sprained ankle?
I got up to call her.
"We're losing him in the sauce." Quil chuckled. "About time." Embry leaned with his virtual race cart.