~LAYLA~
The next evening, I stood in front of our car, the diamond bracelet cold against my wrist. Axel was beside ; his jaw was tight, and his hands were clenched at his sides.
"If I could," he said quietly, "I wouldn’t let you do this. I’d lock you in the house and deal with Marco myself."
"I know." I touched his face gently. "But we have little to no choice. This is our best shot."
"Tye’s got you covered," he said, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than . "Four n in your security detail, all ard. Tye himself will be inside. And I’ll be monitoring everything from the van outside."
"I’ll be fine."
"You better be." He pulled into his arms, holding so tight I could barely breathe. "Because if anything happens to you, if Marco even looks at you wrong..."
"He won’t. He wants sothing from , which ans he needs alive and cooperative." I pulled back to look at him. "I can do this, Axel. I have to."
"I know." He kissed , soft and desperate. "I love you. Co back to ."
"Always."
One of the security guards cleared his throat. "Mrs. O’Brien, we should leave now to arrive on ti."
I squeezed Axel’s hand one last ti before climbing into the backseat of the black SUV. Two guards sat in front, two more in a vehicle behind us. Overkill, maybe, but after everything we’d been through, I wasn’t complaining.
As we drove through the city, I stared at the bracelet on my wrist. The diamonds caught the passing streetlights, throwing sparkles across the car’s interior. Marco had insisted I wear it... another power play, another way to mark as his.
The thought made my skin crawl.
But if wearing his bracelet got us the information we needed to clear our nas and redirect Sinaloa’s wrath toward Charles, where it belonged, I’d wear it. I’d smile and play along with whatever ga Marco thought he was winning.
Because in the end, we’d be the ones walking away victorious.
At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
La Sirena was everything Marco had promised: upscale, public, filled with well-dressed diners and the soft murmur of conversation. The waterfront location offered floor-to-ceiling windows with views of the harbour, boats bobbing gently in the evening tide.
My guards escorted to the entrance, with two staying outside and two following in before lting into strategic positions near the exits.
Marco was already there, seated at a corner table that offered privacy while still being visible to the main dining room. He stood when he saw , a smile spreading across his handso face.
"Layla." He took my hand, bringing it to his lips. "I wasn’t entirely sure you’d co, but here you are."
"Here I am." I pulled my hand back, noting how his eyes went imdiately to the bracelet. "Shall we sit?"
"Of course." He held out my chair, ever the gentleman. Once we were both seated, he leaned back, studying . "You look beautiful tonight. That dress suits you."
"Thank you." I’d chosen an elegant but modest dress. "This is a lovely restaurant."
"One of my favourites when I’m in town. The chef trained in Italy, and the wine list is exceptional." He paused. "Does your husband know you’re here? eting ?"
The question was casual, but loaded with implications.
"I’m my own person," I said coolly. "I don’t need to report my every movent to anyone, husband or otherwise."
Marco’s smile widened. "Independent. I like that. So many won in your position would hide behind their husbands, let the n handle the dangerous negotiations."
"I’m not most won."
"No, you’re certainly not." He gestured to the nu. "Shall we order? I recomnd the osso buco. It’s spectacular."
"What do you want, Marco? Really?"
"Right now? To enjoy dinner with a fascinating woman. Later? Well, that depends on how the evening goes."
Before I could press further, a waiter appeared at our table. "Good evening. May I start you with wine?"
I glanced up and nearly did a double-take. The waiter was tall, dark-haired, and wearing thick-rimd glasses that completely changed his face. But when he winked, so quick Marco couldn’t have possibly seen it, I recognized those eyes even with the contact on.
Tye.
"The Barolo," Marco said without looking at the wine list. "The 2015, if you have it."
"An excellent choice, sir." His voice was different, slightly accented, nothing like his usual rough Arican drawl. "And for the lady?"
"The sa is fine," I managed, relief flooding through .
Tye was here. Right here. Close enough to intervene if things went wrong.
I felt so of the tension leave my shoulders.
After Tye left to retrieve the wine, Marco leaned forward. "So, Layla. Tell about yourself. Beyond the CEO title and the dramatic marriage to Axel O’Brien."
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything. Your dreams, your fears, what drives you. I find you intriguing."
I played along, sharing carefully edited stories from my childhood, my business aspirations, and my love for Eclipse Beauty. Marco listened intently, asking questions and laughing at the right monts. He was charming, I had to admit. Dangerous, but charming.
Tye returned with the wine, poured with professional precision. "Your server will be with you shortly to take your dinner order."
Marco raised his glass. "To new beginnings," he said.
"To clearing up misunderstandings," I countered.
We clinked glasses, and I took a small sip, aware that I needed to keep my head clear.
Dinner arrived, the osso buco for both of us, as Marco had insisted. The food was incredible, but I barely tasted it, as I was too focused on my real objective.
"This must be difficult for you," I said casually, cutting into my veal. "Having to clean up your father’s business deals, deal with problems that aren’t really yours."
"It cos with the territory. When you’re born into a family like mine, you learn early that business and family are inseparable."
"Still, it seems like a lot of pressure. Especially when the evidence isn’t exactly clear-cut."
His eyes sharpened slightly. "What do you an?"
"I an, how can you be certain Eclipse Beauty was laundering Sinaloa money? That’s a serious accusation. Surely you verified it thoroughly before taking action."
"We don’t make accusations lightly, Layla. We had docuntation, bank transfers, shell companies, the whole trail."
"But how did you get those docunts? That’s proprietary financial information, not exactly public record."
Marco smiled, taking another sip of wine. "You’d be surprised what money can buy. Including loyalty from people who should know better."
"Such as?"
"Such as junior associates in law firms who have access to confidential files and expensive tastes they can’t afford on their salaries." He cut another piece of veal. "It was actually quite easy. A little cash, a little pressure, and suddenly we had everything we needed."
My pulse quickened. A lawyer’s associate. That was traceable.
"That seems risky," I said carefully. "What if the docunts were fake? What if soone fabricated them to fra Eclipse Beauty?"
"Why would anyone do that?"
"To redirect your family’s attention. To make you focus on us instead of the real thief."
Marco set down his fork, his expression shifting from casual to calculating. "Is that what you think happened? That soone frad you?"
"I think soone stole from you and made it look like we did it. I think you’re chasing the wrong target."
"And you’re trying to convince of this over dinner?" His smile was dangerous now. "Is that why you agreed to et , Layla? To probe for information? To find so way to wiggle out of the debt?"
"I’m here because you invited . Because you said you could help."
"I can help. But not by entertaining conspiracy theories about mysterious frars." He reached across the table, his hand covering mine. "I have a different proposition for you."
I pulled my hand back. "What kind of proposition?"
His eyes locked onto mine, dark and intense. "Marry ."
Everything around felt like it had frozen in place. The chatter and clinking of dishes at the restaurant turned into background noise. All I could focus on was the loud thumping of my own heartbeat echoing in my ears.
"What?!"
"Marry ," he repeated.
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