~LAYLA~
"I need you to know sothing."
"What?"
But instead of words, he leaned in, and our lips t.
The kiss started out gentle at first, almost hesitant, like he was afraid I might pull away. But I leaned in closer, my hands on his shoulders, and suddenly everything changed. The kiss grew deeper and more passionate.
Axel’s hands slid to my waist, pulling closer against him. I found myself running my fingers through his hair, and the fear I had felt in the hospital faded away as a warmth built between us.
He kissed softly, starting at my lips, moving to my jaw, and then down to my neck. I gasped, feeling my heart race.
"Axel," I breathed, my head tilting back to give him better access.
He let out a low sound, his warm breath teasing my skin as he sucked and licked that sweet spot on my neck.
I knew I’d probably have so hickeys tomorrow that I’d have to try and cover up or co up with excuses for, but in that mont, I couldn’t bring myself to worry about it.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and searching mine. "Layla, we shouldn’t... you’re hurt, and this is..."
I cut him off, kissing him again, harder this ti, my hands tugging at his shirt. "I’m fine."
He groaned against my lips, and I sensed his restraint crumbling. In one smooth motion, he lifted onto his lap, careful of my bruises but still holding close.
I could feel the solid warmth of him beneath , his hands spanning my waist.
The world shrank to just this: his touch, his breath, the way his fingers traced patterns on my spine that made shiver.
Deep down, I knew we were crossing lines, blurring boundaries that our contractual marriage had carefully drawn. But it all felt too good to stop.
My shirt hit the floor first, then his followed. His hands road over my skin in a reverent and hungry way at the sa ti. When his fingers traced the edge of my bra, I arched into him, wanting more.
"Tell to stop," he murmured against my collarbone. "Tell this is too fast."
"Don’t stop," I whispered back.
His hands moved higher, cupping my breasts over the lace of my bra. I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders. Every touch sent electricity through , every kiss made forget why this might be a bad idea.
"We shouldn’t be doing this," he said, his voice sounding rough. "We shouldn’t..."
"Axel..."
His fingers found the clasp of my bra, and with a single motion, it ca undone. The fabric fell away, and for a mont, we just looked at each other. His eyes were dark with desire, his breathing as ragged as mine.
"Layla..." he whispered. "We need to stop."
I blinked, dazed. "Why?"
He let out a shaky breath, his hands still on , but he didn’t move. "Because if I don’t, I won’t be able to."
For a mont, neither of us moved. The air between us felt alive. Then he gently lifted off his lap, setting back down on the bed beside him.
I was still trembling, the room spinning a little. My shirt lay sowhere on the floor or on the bed, I have no idea, and my hair was tangled from his hands.
He reached for the blanket and pulled it up to cover , his touch gentle once more.
"I’m sorry," he murmured after a long silence. "I shouldn’t have..."
"Don’t," I interrupted softly, eting his gaze. "It’s fine."
He hesitated. "Layla..."
"Let’s just sleep," I interrupted gently, not ready for whatever confession or complication he was about to voice out. "We can figure out the rest tomorrow."
He nodded, pulling back the covers for both of us. We lay down together, and despite everything that had just happened, despite the lines we’d crossed, it felt natural when he pulled against his chest.
"Goodnight," he whispered into my hair.
"Goodnight."
I fell asleep more easily than I thought I would, feeling his warmth and the steady beat of his heart against my ear.
—
I woke to sunlight streaming through the windows and Axel already awake beside , scrolling through his phone with a frown.
"Morning," I said, looking up at him.
He looked down at , his expression softening briefly before the frown returned. "Morning. How are you feeling?"
"Sore, but okay." I sat up, wincing slightly. "What’s wrong?"
"You need to see this." He handed his phone.
The headline made my blood run cold: "Cassandra Watson Hart’s Tragic Miscarriage: Blas Jealous Sister Layla O’Brien for Devastating Loss"
Below it was a photo of Cassandra in her hospital bed, looking pale and devastated, with Daniel’s arm around her shoulders. The article painted a picture of a grieving mother whose sister’s jealous rage had cost her everything.
"You have got to be kidding ," I said, scrolling through the article. "’Sources close to the family say Layla O’Brien deliberately caused the accident out of jealousy over her sister’s successful pregnancy and marriage.’ This is complete fabrication!"
"Keep reading," Axel said grimly.
I did, my anger building with each paragraph. The article claid I’d been harassing Cassandra for weeks, that I’d stolen her business contacts, that I’d orchestrated the fake data breach to fra her.
It quoted "anonymous witnesses" who claid to have seen swerve into Cassandra’s car.
"’The Watson family is considering pressing charges for vehicular assault resulting in fetal death,’" I read aloud. "This is insane! She’s the one who hit !"
"I know. And that’s not even the worst part." Axel took the phone back and pulled up another article. "Look at this."
"Social dia Turns on Billionaire Mogul Wife, Layla O’Brien, After Sister’s Miscarriage"
The comnts were vicious. People who’d been praising Eclipse Beauty just yesterday were now calling for boycotts, cancellations, and demanding I be arrested. The narrative had shifted completely overnight.
"How did this happen so fast?" I asked, running my fingers through my hair.
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