Sweet Billionaire Stepbrother(37)

Suppressing the urge to take his face in my hands and kiss him, I put down my spoon and bowl on the garden table and placed both hands under my ass to keep them from doing something silly. We’d spent hours in the past talking about our dreams and ambitions, being anything other than a doctor would slowly kill Grayson from the inside. How could any parent want that for their child? Especially someone as naturally gifted as Grayson.

“You’ve always hoped you’d be able to sway him when the time came. I’m so sorry—”

He shrugged. “I had a less than five percent chance of convincing him. I was always knew that, but I don’t regret a single minute of my training. Hopefully it will come in useful at some point in my life.” He laughed, but there was a touch of sadness to it that pulled at my heart.

Silence fell between us as we both withdrew into our thoughts. It wasn’t always necessary for us to talk when we were together, neither of us felt the need to fill the quiet with meaningless chatter.

Watching him out of the corner of my eye, I noticed how his shoulders had slumped forward ever so slightly. It wasn’t like Grayson to let life get him down. If only there was something I could do to help him.

“You haven’t answered my question.” He brushed the hair that had fallen over his brow out of the way as his penetrating gaze settled on me. I studied my nails as if I’d never seen them before.

“Why?” I asked simply.

“Why? Because I want to be with you. Since that night I can’t think of anything else but you in my arms. All I’m asking for is seven days. Seven days of only us. Away from everyone and everything.”

There was nothing I wanted more. It was a chance for a piece of heaven on earth but it also sounded like a recipe for getting my heart broken beyond repair. I bit into my lower lip. I was so damn tempted to throw caution to the wind and follow my heart.

“What about Sloane?”

“Huh? What about Sloane?” His brow knitted together in confusion, as if I was speaking in a foreign language.

“Milton wants you to date her. She’s your date for his party.” My voice was calm and matter-of-factly, even though my mouth became dry at the thought.

He pulled a face. “I only agreed for two reasons. One I didn’t want to hurt Sloane’s feelings because he’d already invited her, and two, I’m worried about his health. It was a trade—he promised to see a doctor if I agreed to his plans.”

“I’m confused, Grayson. What good will spending time with me do if we have to sneak around? How would we pull off going to London together without raising questions?”

The confident grin he gave me was proof he’d thought this through.

“No sneaking. I’ll go ahead of you to Oxford for a few days. You meet me in London three days later. Besides, can’t a brother treat his dearest stepsister for her birthday? Seems perfectly legitimate to me. What do you say?”

So it was going to be a purely platonic trip? Disappointment coursed through my body. I wanted more . . . so much more. But maybe it was better this way.

I took a deep breath and squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. I’d do anything to have seven days alone with Grayson, in whatever shape they took. We’d been platonic for years, I could do it again, even after the best damn night of my life.

“Okay. I’m in,” I said as I expelled a long breath. Lord help me.

“Thank you, Lala. You won’t regret it. It will be the best week of your life.” His voice was as smooth as honey and his eyes shone with promises he didn’t articulate. I couldn’t help but clench my thighs together at the thought of collecting on those unspoken promises.

Oh God, why did I want him so damn much that it physically hurt?





9: Layla


Taylor had begged me to watch the latest episode of the Kardashians with her and we were both stretched out in front of the television eating pretzels. I’d rolled my eyes so often in the last half hour that I was developing a damn headache already. I shifted around on the couch, feeling guilty sitting there instead of doing something more productive with my time. Years of studying hard meant I didn’t watch TV often, and if I did, it certainly wasn’t that kind of program.

Every now and then Taylor let out a Oh-My-God or what-the-heck, and I couldn’t help chuckling at how seriously she took the show. I couldn’t stop staring at Kim’s lips or her false eyelashes. Kudo’s to her for wearing them with such confidence. It was something I needed to learn, so maybe watching the show wasn’t all a waste of time.

My phone rang and I glanced at it casually because I wasn’t expecting a call from anyone in particular.

“Hello, Layla speaking.”

“Miss Forbes?”

“Yes?”

Very few people called me by my adopted surname unless it was a stranger or the media.

“I’m Detective West from the Sydney Police. We need to talk to you please. Can you come down to the city office this afternoon?”

I drew in a harsh breath. What would the police want with me? I’d paid the parking fine from a bad parking decision at Uni ages ago. And who exactly was we?

“Um . . . sure I can, but what is it about? Are you sure you have the right person?”

“You are Layla Forbes?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Hadn’t we already cleared that up?