"It’s nothing important. You may leave, Roger," Lucius said with a dismissive wave of his hand, his gaze still remained indifferent.
Roger bowed swiftly, murmuring an apology before retreating from the dining room.
"Now, where were we?" Lucius murmured, his hand gently lifting Layla’s chin, forcing her to et his eyes.
"Your mother is here. Shouldn’t you go see her?" Layla asked, her voice tinged with nervousness.
"If my mother wants to see , she can co here," Lucius replied nonchalantly. "The espresso is getting cold. Let’s finish our breakfast; we still need to go over the reception outfits."
He released her, and Layla quickly returned to her seat, focusing on her al. Yet, her thoughts lingered on his dismissive attitude. It unsettled her that he seed completely unfazed by his mother’s presence.
Or, he was just pretending not to be bothered by his mother’s arrival.
As Layla began gathering the dishes, Lucius reached out and gently halted her movents. "Leave them," he said, his voice firm yet casual. "That’s what the servants are for. I pay them to handle such things."
He rose from his chair, extending a hand toward her. Layla hesitated for a mont before placing her delicate hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch. With a graceful motion, he pulled her close, his hand slipping to rest on her waist as they exited the dining room.
A faint smile played on his lips, his mind drifting back to their first encounter outside a quaint flower shop. He could still rember the intoxicating fragrance of roses and the vibrant, radiant smile that lit up her face as she handed him a single rose.
"Sir, do visit our shop! We give discounts to regular custors."
That mont, so simple yet profound, had etched itself into his mory and heart, sothing that could never fade.
"Lucius!" Layla’s raised voice jolted him from his reverie. She was now standing in front of him. "Did you hear anything I just said?"
Blinking, he looked at her, his smile softening. "Sorry, darling. I was lost in you," he confessed, his tone sincere and almost teasing.
"What do you an?" Layla asked, her brows knitting together in confusion.
"Nothing much. Now, what were you saying?" Lucius redirected, his tone light but attentive.
"I was wondering if you’ve sent an invitation to my family for the wedding reception. If not, I’ll handle it," Layla said.
"Of course, I’ve invited them," Lucius assured her, a hint of amusent in his eyes. "But they might co begging for your forgiveness. Do you think you’ll go easy on them?"
"Not a chance," Layla responded, her voice firm. "I want to expose how Orabela and Roderick betrayed behind my back. But I wanted to check with you first—would it be appropriate to do that at the reception?"
Lucius’s eyes glead with interest. "You can, if you have the evidence," he said thoughtfully. "Orabela is the heiress of the Rosenzweig family. She’s well-known, and striking when the iron is hot could give you the impact you desire."
Layla bit her lip, her determination faltering slightly. "I don’t have any evidence. I discovered the truth too late. I think I should gather proof first, and then find the right mont to reveal their true nature to everyone," she mused, her gaze steely with resolve. "Besides, I’m concerned your father and sister-in-law might take issue if I openly tarnish Roderick’s reputation," she added, her voice softening with uncertainty.
"Layla," Lucius said, his voice firm, "when you’re taking revenge, you can’t afford to worry about the feelings of those who don’t deserve your consideration. And besides," he added with a mischievous grin, "it’ll be quite entertaining to see my father’s face when he learns his precious grandson was two-timing."
Layla glanced at him, sensing a deeper motive behind his words. It was almost as if he was anticipating the chaos with a little too much eagerness. Why did he seem to relish the idea so much?
"I’ll gather the evidence first," she decided, her eyes narrowing with determination.
"What if I help you?" Lucius offered, his gaze locking onto hers with sincerity, but sothing darker too.
Layla studied him, unsure whether to feel reassured or wary of his proposition. "How would you do that?"
"I have resources, Love," Lucius said, a confident smirk playing on his lips as he watched her.
Layla narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "Lucius, you knew your nephew was two-timing, didn’t you?" she accused. "You could have sent a marriage proposal to my family much earlier, but you chose that specific day. Why?"
"Coincidence, Layla," he replied smoothly, his expression unreadable. "I didn’t know you’d discover Roderick’s betrayal the sa day I sent the proposal for your hand. It was pure chance," he added, his tone almost too calm, too collected.
Layla wasn’t convinced. She could feel there was more to it, but before she could probe further, a soft voice interrupted them.
"Pardon for intruding, but the designer is here with the dresses," a housemaid’s voice announced from the doorway.
Lucius glanced over, his deanor instantly shifting from intense to nonchalant. "Bring them in," he instructed, then turned and made his way to the couch, settling down with an air of casual authority.
Layla watched him for a mont, her thoughts swirling. His timing, his actions—everything seed calculated. But now wasn’t the mont to confront him further. She took a deep breath, pushing aside her suspicions for now, and followed him to the couch.
As the housemaid entered with the designer in tow, carrying an array of exquisite dresses, Layla forced herself to focus on the imdiate task. Yet, in the back of her mind, the puzzle pieces were slowly falling into place, and she vowed to uncover whatever ga Lucius was playing.
Just then, Roger ca with phone in his hand. Leaning down, he whispered sothing in Lucius’ ear. Layla watched them when Lucius excused himself, telling her to select the dress for herself along with the jewelry.
’Whose call was that?’ Layla thought.
Reviews
All reviews (0)