~LAYLA~
"Hey," I said with a soft smile. "You’re back."
Axel stood in the doorway, and the look on his face made my breath catch. It was intense, and heated, like he was seeing for the first ti.
His eyes traced the water droplets on my shoulders, the curve of my collarbone, before eting my gaze again.
"Yeah," he said in a rougher voice than usual. "I’m back."
The air around us felt heavy. I suddenly beca acutely aware of how little the towel covered, how his eyes kept drifting downward before he forced them back up.
"I, um..." I cleared my throat. "I was just getting ready. You said dinner out?"
"Right. Dinner." He seed to shake himself. "I made reservations at Marcello’s. That Italian place downtown you ntioned wanting to try."
"You rembered that?" I asked, surprised. I’d only ntioned it once, weeks ago.
"I rember everything you tell , Layla."
Sothing in the way he said my na made heat pool in my stomach. I gripped the towel tighter.
"So, how should I dress? Casual or fancy?"
"Fancy," he said, his eyes darkening. "Wear sothing that makes you feel beautiful."
"Everything makes feel beautiful, especially when you look at like that." The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Axel’s expression shifted.
"Like what?" he asked, stepping closer.
"Like you’re starving and I’m the only thing that can satisfy you."
He was right in front of now, close enough that I could sll his cologne mixed with sothing darker. His hand ca up to cup my face, thumb brushing my still-damp cheek.
"Maybe you are," he whispered.
My heart hamred against my ribs.
For a mont, I thought he might kiss right there, contract be damned. But then he stepped back, breaking the spell.
"I’ll let you get dressed," he said in a strained voice. "Take your ti. We’re not in a rush."
He left, closing the door softly behind him. I stood there for a long mont, trying to calm my racing pulse.
This was dangerous. Whatever this was between us, it was getting harder to pretend it was just part of our arrangent.
I dried off and moved to my closet, running my hands over the dresses hanging there. Fancy, he’d said. Sothing that makes you feel beautiful.
My fingers landed on a stunning erald dress I had bought months ago, but never got the chance to wear. It was stylish and a bit bold, with a fitted bodice and a deep neckline, while the skirt flowed down to mid-thigh. It definitely had a way of grabbing attention.
Perfect.
I took my ti getting ready: hair styled in loose waves, makeup subtle but sultry, a hint of the perfu Axel had once complinted. When I finally slipped on the dress and looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself.
I looked like a woman going to seduce her husband.
The thought should have scared . Instead, it thrilled .
Forty-five minutes later, I descended the stairs. Axel was waiting in the foyer, now in a fresh charcoal grey suit that fit him perfectly. When he heard my heels on the stairs, he looked up.
And froze.
"Jesus, Layla," he breathed.
"Too much?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious.
"No. Not even close to too much." He moved toward , offering his hand to help down the last few steps. "You’re stunning."
"You clean up pretty well yourself."
He smiled, that rare, genuine smile that made my knees weak. "Shall we?"
The drive to the restaurant was filled with easy conversation: he asked about Eclipse Beauty’s numbers, and I asked about his eting earlier. We carefully avoided talking about the court hearing, about Cassandra, about any of the darkness hovering at the edges of our lives.
Tonight was about us. Just us.
Marcello’s was everything I’d imagined: dim lighting, candles flickering on white tablecloths, soft Italian music in the background. The maitre d’ led us to a private corner booth, secluded and intimate.
"How did you manage to get a reservation here on such short notice?" I asked as we settled in. "I heard the wait list is months long."
"I have my ways," Axel said mysteriously.
"You an you threw money at them."
"I prefer to think of it as expediting the process."
I laughed, and sothing in his expression softened.
"I love that sound," he said after a few seconds of staring at .
"What sound?"
"Your laugh. You don’t do it enough."
"Haven’t had much to laugh about lately," I admitted.
"Then we need to change that."
The waiter appeared with nus and a wine list. Axel ordered a bottle of Chianti without consulting , sohow knowing it was exactly what I would have chosen.
"You really do pay attention," I murmured.
"To you? Always."
Throughout dinner, we talked about everything and nothing. He told stories about building his company, the risks he’d taken, and the failures he’d learned from. I shared mories of my mother, the rare happy monts before everything fell apart.
"She would have liked you," I said, surprising myself with the admission.
"You think?"
"Yeah. She always said I needed soone who would challenge , who wouldn’t let hide from the world." I t his eyes. "That’s you."
"I could say the sa about you," he said quietly. "You’ve challenged everything I thought I knew about a lot of things."
The words felt significant, with deeper anings that I couldn’t fully understand.
The al was amazing. The homade pasta was seasoned perfectly, and the wine made feel warm and relaxed. But I hardly tasted any of it because I was too focused on Axel. His eyes never left mine; it was like an electric current was flowing between us.
"Dance with ," he said suddenly as a slow song began playing.
"Here? There’s no dance floor."
"Who cares?"
He stood, offering his hand. I took it, letting him lead to a small open space near our table. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling close as we swayed to the music.
"This is crazy," I whispered against his chest.
"The best things usually are."
I looked up at him, and the intensity in his gaze stole my breath. His hand moved from my waist to the small of my back, pressing impossibly closer.
I could feel every hard plane of his body against mine, could feel the rapid beating of his heart matching my own.
"Layla," he said, his voice rough with sothing that sounded like warning and invitation all at once.
"Don’t," I interrupted. "Don’t think. Not tonight."
His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking as he fought so internal battle. Then slowly, deliberately, he lowered his head, his lips brushing my temple.
"You’re making this very difficult," he murmured.
"Good."
The song ended, but neither of us moved. We stood there, locked together, the rest of the restaurant fading away until it was just us.
"We should go," Axel finally said, though he made no move to release .
"Yeah. We should."
The drive ho was silent and intense, filled with unspoken words. Axel’s hand found mine, fingers intertwining with mine, his thumb stroking patterns on my skin, sending shivers up my arm.
When we pulled into the driveway, neither of us moved to get out.
"Layla," Axel said, turning to face . "If we go inside..."
"I know."
"The contract. Our arrangent. It changes everything."
"Maybe it’s already changed," I said softly. "Maybe it changed weeks ago and we’ve just been pretending it hasn’t."
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