Faking with Benefits : A Friends to Lovers Romance(96)

I stare at her, my mouth drying out. “What? I thought your family liked me.”

“Oh, they liked you fine; you were a perfect gentleman. Kind and sweet and caring. But they liked you as a boyfriend, not a husband. They knew from the moment they saw us together that we weren’t going to work out long-term.” She looks down at her nails. “I never told you this, but the night before our wedding, I almost didn’t go through with it. I knew, deep down, that it was wrong.”

Her words hit me like a bucket of cold water to the face. For a few seconds, I flounder, speechless.

“Then why did you?” I manage eventually. “Go through with it?”

She shrugs. “I was young, and you were the sweetest guy I’d ever met. I thought I was in love with you.”

“But you weren’t,” I finish. My heart feels like it’s cracking in my rib cage.

“No. And I knew it the moment you put that ring on my finger, and I felt absolutely nothing. We were doomed before we even said our vows.”

I take a deep breath through my nose. My head is spinning. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

It was hard enough for me when our marriage fizzled out. I thought Amy and I were soulmates. I’d never even considered that we might fall apart.

But if what Amy’s telling me is true, maybe all of that love was one-sided. Was our relationship really all in my head? Am I really that stupid?

“Well,” I say finally, “for the record, I did love you. I never thought for a second that we wouldn’t make it.”

“I know you didn’t,” she says gently. “Because you see the world through rose-coloured glasses. But this isn’t a fairy tale. True love doesn’t conquer all. Open your eyes and actually look at your relationship, for once in your goddamn life.” She presses forward, her eyes hard. “Layla is young. She’s beautiful. She has a reputation, and judging by her behaviour tonight, absolutely nothing has changed. I don’t want to see you get hurt, Luke. And anyone can see that she won’t stay.”

I shake my head, trying to pull back. “I’m not listening to this—”

She grabs my arm. “Yes, you are. For God’s sake, I’m trying to help you!”

I try to shake her off, but she won’t let go.





SIXTY-ONE





LAYLA





After Josh leaves to take pictures, I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, breathing hard.

I look like a mess. My quickie with Josh did nothing to stop the heat burning through my veins. If anything, I feel even worse than before. My thin dress is sticking to my skin with sweat, and my nerves feel like they’re on fire. And the beads…

I can feel them inside me. They’re not annoying — just a heavy pressure, a deep fullness that’s just gotten worse since Josh made me come. No matter how much I shift my weight to try and get comfortable, I can feel them pressing into me.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. Classical music plays over hidden speakers, soothing me slightly as I pin back the curls that Josh tugged loose. As I lean over to pump some hand cream from the dispenser, the beads shift again, sliding over one another and sending a hot pulse of pleasure through me.

I gape, grabbing onto the side of the counter and crossing my legs tight as blood rushes between my thighs.

I can’t do this. I can’t go back to the party and smile and mingle with something inside me, no matter how good it feels. I’ll go mad. I need to get back to the hotel room and take them out. Maybe leave them on Zack’s pillow as a present.

Taking a deep breath, I scoop some cold water into my hand and wipe it over the back of my sweaty neck. When I’m as cool as I’m going to get, I straighten, dab myself off, and head back into the hallway. I barely get two steps down the corridor before a low voice calls my name.

“Layla.”

I turn, jumping as Zack barrels down the narrow hall towards me. He looks… off. His collar is undone, his tie is lopsided, and his eyes are red. His ring is hanging from the chain around his neck, swaying slightly. He catches up with me and grabs at me, pulling me close, his fingers curling into my forearms. He’s breathing hard.

“Zack,” I say softly. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Fine,” he grits out.

“Did something happen? Why did you go?”

He grimaces. “Sorry. Knee was hurting.”

Concern tugs at me. “D’you wanna go back to the room?”

“‘M better now,” he says, grabbing my hand. “Come with me.” He starts tugging me down the hall. I follow, bemused, as he drags me towards the fire exit, pushing the door open and leading me out into the hotel’s sprawling gardens.

It’s getting late now, and the sky is darkening to a deep twilight-blue over our heads. Zack leads me through the garden, pulling me through rows of perfectly manicured hedges and bushes, heavy with glossy leaves and aromatic flowers. Birds sing pretty, fluting tunes in the trees above us. Someone has set up fairy-lights in the foliage, and they twinkle down on us as we make our way through the grounds.

I look up at Zack. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are fiery. I’m not sure what’s going on. “Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere private,” he mutters, tightening his grip on my fingers.