~LAYLA~
Axel’s eyes narrowed in thought, but before he could answer, I shook my head, answering my own question.
"No," My voice dropped to a whisper as I considered what I had said. "If we send him anything, he’ll know we found him. He’ll burn the serve and go underground again."
Axel smiled, and this ti there was no arrogance in it, only pure admiration. "Exactly. If we poke the bear, he moves. If we stay quiet..."
"...he keeps thinking he’s the predator," I finished, feeling a cold satisfaction settling in my chest. "We don’t send him a gift, Axel. In fact, we don’t send him anything or set any trap. We just let him think he’s winning. And then, when he makes his move..."
"We’ll be waiting," Axel finished. He leaned down, brushing his lips against my temple. "Remind never to get on your bad side, Mrs. Layla Huntington O’Brien."
"Too late," I teased softly, the tension finally leaving my shoulders.
"Co on," Axel said, checking his watch. "Tye and the team have the data. They don’t need us for a few hours. I promised you no party, but I didn’t say anything about dinner."
I looked down at my silk robe. "Dinner?"
"Go, get so rest. By 7, you can get dressed," Axel said, his eyes darkening with a different kind of intensity. "Wear sothing stunning. I’m taking you sowhere where Charles can’t see us, and I’m going to give you the rest of your birthday present."
—
"Wear sothing stunning," Axel had said.
I took the instruction literally.
I stood in front of the full-length mirror in our dressing room, smoothing the fabric of my dress. It was a deep, wine silk that draped over my curves like water, with a slit that ran dangerously high up my thigh and a back that plunged low.
It was the kind of dress the old Layla—the one Charles had tried to mould into an obedient doll—would have been terrified to wear.
But tonight, looking at my reflection, I didn’t see a doll. I saw a woman who had co a long way from the one humiliated at the altar, a woman who stared down a board of directors and was preparing to go to war. I looked dangerous.
"Ready?"
I turned around. Axel was leaning against the doorfra. He had swapped his casual t-shirt for a dark charcoal suit, no tie, with the top two buttons of his white shirt undone.
He looked effortlessly handso and powerful, the kind of man who commanded a room just by existing in it.
His dark and hungry eyes swept over , lingering on the slit of the dress before eting my gaze.
"Stunning was an understatent," he murmured, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward . "If we weren’t running late for the reservation, we wouldn’t be making it out of this room."
I smiled, feeling a flush of heat rise in my cheeks. "Control yourself, Mr. Wolf. You promised dinner."
"I did," he sighed, offering his arm. "But don’t expect to be a gentleman when we get back."
—
The location Axel had chosen wasn’t one of the flashy, glass-walled restaurants where people went to be seen. Instead, the car wound its way down into a cobblestone street, stopping in front of an unmarked heavy steel door.
Tye, who had driven us, gave a subtle nod from the front seat. "Periter is clear. Enjoy your night, Boss."
"Keep the comms off unless the building is on fire," Axel ordered.
"Understood."
Axel guided inside. It was an old bank vault converted into an exclusive, private dining club. We descended a spiral staircase into a space dimly lit by warm amber candlelight.
The walls were thick stone and steel, shutting out the noise of the city, the prying eyes of the press, and the electronic gaze of drones.
It was a fortress. And it was beautiful.
The maître d’ led us to a secluded booth in the back, tucked away in what used to be a safe-deposit cage, now lined with velvet curtains.
"Why here?" I asked once we were seated, and the waiter had poured us a rich red wine.
"Because there are no windows," Axel said, picking up his glass. "The cell reception is blocked by ten feet of concrete. And because for the next two hours, Charles Watson doesn’t exist. The company doesn’t exist. It’s just us."
I took a sip of the wine, feeling the tension of the day finally beginning to unspool from my muscles. "You’re good at this."
"At what?"
"Making the world disappear," I said softly.
Axel reached across the small table, covering my hand with his. His thumb brushed over my knuckles. "It’s the only way I can keep you sane, Layla. We live in the crossfire. If we don’t carve out these monts, then this war we’re in consus us."
"I used to hate my birthday," I admitted, looking down at our joined hands. "I told you that. But it wasn’t just because of Charles. It was because it was a reminder that another year had passed, and I was still strapped in that cage."
I looked up at him, the candlelight dancing in his dark eyes.
"Today was chaotic with Daniel showing up, the drone photo, and the panic, but it was the best birthday I’ve ever had."
Axel raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you didn’t hit your head? We found out we were being spied on."
"I know," I laughed, a genuine, bubbling sound. "But before that, I had breakfast with my family. I had cake with the boys. And now, I’m here with you. I’m not trapped anymore, Axel. I’m fighting. And for the first ti in my life, I feel like I’m winning."
Axel’s expression softened into something rare and unguarded. He lifted my hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the inside of my wrist.
"You are winning," he said fiercely. "You have no idea how proud I was of you today. In that study? You didn’t panic. You analysed. You saw the trap with the USB drive before I did."
"I learned from the best," I whispered.
The food arrived, with beautiful dishes of truffle risotto and seared scallops, but honestly, we hardly noticed it.
We were too busy talking, not about business, money, or rivals; rather, we reminisced about the past year.
I paused, tracing the rim of my wine glass as I looked at the man who had beco my entire world. "Be honest with ," I asked softly. "Did you ever think we would get to this stage when we first said ’I do’?"
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