Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
I grew sleepier by the second, and my whole body sinking into the beanbag.
Dimly, I was aware of Hannah’s whisper to Leo. “I’m staying.”
Leo said something, but I couldn’t make out his response.
Not that I really cared.
Vali snuggled into me, all warm breathing fur, and my whole body became deliciously floaty.
“Did you give her the D128?” Hannah’s low voice came from somewhere nearby.
“No, I’m not fully programming her. I’ll leave that to Mark. The cocktail flowing through her will open her mind to suggestion but nothing more.”
“He’s going to be pissed.”
“Too bad. This is more important than his feelings.”
“I totally agree.”
There was a sound like maybe kissing, then Leo said, “Quiet now, my love.”
Soft, lovely feelings of relaxation and contentment skittered along my body as I released a deep sigh.
“Layla.” Leo’s voice contained still, beautiful oceans of sound. “Can you hear me?”
It took some effort, but I managed to answer him. “Yes.”
“Good. Are you comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“You’re relaxed, very relaxed. Your body is at complete rest, and everything is slowing down.” He paused for a moment, his words magical, as I went practically limp. “Good. You’re letting go, letting all the pain and negative feelings just evaporate out of you like sweat into the desert air. You are free of doubt and anxiety, closer and closer to sleep. Relaxed.”
My thoughts faded, and I slipped into the best sleep of my life with a smile.
Chapter 7
Mark
Six hours after I’d been unceremoniously hauled out of the charity ball by my own men, I found myself sitting in my car on a tall hill overlooking Layla’s house in the pre-dawn darkness.
For the past three years, this was the closest I’d allowed myself to get to my girl.
This hill, a half mile away from the cheerful place she called home.
But, tonight, I would finally step foot on her land.
Breathe in the smell of her home.
Taste her, like I’ve been dying to do all these years.
Tonight, I would make her mine.
Absently rubbing my throbbing jaw, because Diego had gotten one hell of a punch in, I stared at her backyard with its tall privacy fence and small cactus garden. All her curtains were closed, and I saw no signs of movement from her workshop. To most people, the tall windows of the seven-hundred square foot workshop weren’t visible because of the privacy fence, but I could see over it from this spot on the hill. I’d spent many, many nights watching her create her dragons, in awe of her talent.
Memories of watching Layla work, often covered in sawdust flakes or splattered with paint and clay, washed over me. She was so beautiful and skilled, fucking perfect in every way that mattered. Tonight, she’d been magnificent as she worked the crowd.
With her otherworldly beauty, her shy demeanor, and her stunning voice, she’d enraptured everyone who talked to her. She was a siren, and I wasn’t the only one affected by her presence. I’d overheard more than one man at the event asking about her, and more than one rich dowager wondered if she could match Layla up with one of her grandsons. In a room full of beautiful and powerful people, she glittered like the brightest star in the sky. Thank God for the security detail. If they hadn’t been there, Layla would have been trampled by potential suitors.
I’d watched her, tracking her every move while avoiding Caroline. She’d cornered me when I first arrived, and in an effort to keep the peace, I’d been polite with her—up until the point when she tried to kiss me. After I’d turned Caroline away and told her we were never going to happen, she’d thrown a tantrum.
A very public, embarrassing tantrum.
Honestly, I’d meant to keep my distance from Layla. To torture myself and watch her from afar. I was going to leave her alone and cherish the glimpses of her I’d caught. She was a goddess, beauty incarnate, inside and out.
But Diego, that motherfucker, had kissed her and all my good intentions flew out the window.
Sitting on the hood of my matte black Range Rover, I listened to the tick of my engine as it cooled beneath me. Large two-story boulders hid me from the nearest road, and there was little traffic this far out. Layla lived way out in Carefree, a small artists town northeast of Phoenix, where life was quiet. The population wasn’t huge, and most of the people in her neighborhood were free spirits. The desert landscape, dotted with unique, massive boulders, hid world class art studios all over the place. I could easily see why Layla decided to put down roots here, even though her parents lived on the outskirts of Scottsdale almost an hour south.
A strong breeze gusted through the valley, moving the hair off my forehead, making my skin prickle.
Layla’s neighborhood was a grouping of ten homes down a long, curving street on big plots of land. Cream stucco on the outside, all the homes featured Spanish tile roofs, but some were single-story, and some were double. Mature trees and massive saguaro cactuses filled most yards, giving the large valley a surprising splash of green. Layla’s place stuck out because of the addition of the old mechanic’s garage she’d converted into a large art studio.