AYLA
The moment the doctor's name appeared on my phone's screen, I knew something was wrong with Dad.
I sat on one of the silver chairs in the waiting area, my fingers crossed as I waited for Dr. Dray to walk out through the swinging glass door and tell me Dad was still alive.
I wanted to say the 'Hail Mary,' but that'd be stupid—I'd stopped attending church since I was fourteen.
"Ally,"
I lifted my head to find Millie and Peter walking towards me.
"Mills, what are you doing here?"
"What do you mean, what are you doing here? You weren't expecting me to leave you here alone, were you?" she said, pulling me into a hug.
"I brought Peter just in case," she muttered before pulling away.
I knew what she meant.
I'd spent all the money I'd found in Dad's savings—I had no idea how he'd gotten that fucking amount of money before the accident—and mine too, and none of it was even enough.
"You shouldn't have," I said quietly.
"Says the one who'd rob a bank if roles were switched." Millie nudged my shoulders in a playful sneer.
I pressed my lips together and looked away.
On cue, the doctor walked through the swinging door.
"Ayla."
I stood, ramrod, Millie beside me.
"How is he?" I asked, my voice thin.
"Stable."
I let out breath from my lungs I had no idea I'd been holding.
"He had a very low blood pressure, and we found out his right vein got blocked, preventing blood circulation. His heart wasn't getting enough oxygen…" He explained.
I felt colour drain from my face. I wanted so badly to do nothing but scream and… cry.
"But like I said, he's stable now."
"Thank you, doctor." I said. "Can I see him?"
"Sure," Dr. Dray bobbed his response. "But just you, okay?"
"Okay." I made to move, but his hand stopped me.
"Ayla…" he paused. "We need to talk about the bills."
Millie locked fingers with Peter as he moved forward. "Yes, we're here..."
"No." I cut Peter off mid-sentence. "I'll take care of this myself."
"What?" Millie turned to stare at me. "You don't have that kind of money, Ally."
"No, pumpkin, I don't." I said, "but I will."
I turned to Peter. "Thanks, P, but I want to do this myself."
I held the doctor's gaze. "This time, I promise."
He let go of my hand, and I ran through the stairs to Dad's room.
I didn't go in.
The sound of monitors beeping and those many tubes connected to his body made my heart feel like it was going to burst if I made any sound.
I brushed my cheek with the back of my palm.
Thoughts of Cassian Moretti's deal flashed through my mind as I stood outside the door.
"Family's about making sacrifices, right?" I muttered, more to myself and the space between us.
"Where are you going?" Millie asked the minute I reappeared downstairs.
"I'm going to get the money." With that, I disappeared through the door into the afternoon light.
_—---••—---
I chuckled darkly at how silly I'd been to think life would allow me enjoy one of those fairytale love stories.
But here I was in C-M Holdings, about to accept an offer by a man tainted by darkness.
He was asking me to be his live-in personal secretary; he was going tomonitor my life, cut me off from society and expose me to only God knows what.
I swallowed an invisible lump in my throat.
What was the saying about saying 'it can never be me'?
Yeah, whoever came up with that quote must have been a distant family relation of mine.
Because right now, this was me in desperate need to break my rules.
I knew Cassian Moretti had stripclubs and those illegal ventures they masked behind legal operations like this and yet all I wanted was his money.
At all cost. And for dad's sake.
I clenched my fist as frustration crept up my back.
It couldn't be anything worse, just a live-in secretary for a year and that's all. Deal closed. Money in my account.
I'll forget this happened in a matter of weeks. And my life would swim back to normal.
The familiar brunette appeared; red heels clicking against the tiles as she walked towards me.
"Ayla?"
I nodded once. "Yes, Ma'am."
"Do you have an appointment for today?"
I bit my lower lip. "Yes."
It wasn't exactly a lie. He'd given me seven days to decide, and this was the seventh day.
She smiled weakly, like there was a mistake somewhere.
"Give me a minute." She turned and disappeared through the glass door.
It took almost thirty minutes before she reappeared. "He's ready to see you."
'He's ready'.
You can do this, Ayla.
I grabbed my purse and headed for his office.
Accepting offers from the devil has its consequences—especially when that devil had the perfect scarred face of the man before me.
He looked distracting and jaw-slapping fascinating in that grey suit.
Did every colour just fit him so perfectly, or was I just noticing this?
My heart skipped the moment he finally looked at me.
I adjusted in my chair, feeling my heart drum loudly. I could barely hear the sound of his own breath.
His head tilted to the side as he crossed his knee over the other.
His face morphed into something cruel and slightly mischievous.
"I knew you'd come back."
A fucking bag of pride!
My breath hitched. "I had to." I said, my clammy hands tightening on my purse.
He leaned into his golden chair. "Of course."
My cheeks burned red with resentment. "Can we get straight to it?"
His gaze burned my skin as his eyes met mine. "You don't tell me what to do."
I did a mental eye roll.
I forced my sweetest smile. "I have to get back to the hospital and—"
"That's none of my business," he cut me off with disinterest.
That shouldn't hurt. I shouldn't expect any sympathy from him.
But it hurt—a little too much.
He let out a sardonic breath and tossed something inside a manila envelope towards me.
"I gave you one week to decide, and you fucking move around entertaining other men."
My smile and stomach fell.
There was a dark edge to his tone that suggested I had no right to entertain other men simply because I was going to work for him.
It infuriated me to no end.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." My response was calm in contrast to the sound of my heartbeat.
His gaze levelled on mine as he motioned to the envelope on the table.
I picked it up, and the sound of my heartbeat drowned out everything around me.
Pictures of Lorenzo Vellani at the coffee shop; another of him when he'd stood under the rain with me; another of me in his car, staring at him.
Was this what he meant by entertaining other men?
Accepting an innocent ride home?
I hadn't even accepted the contract yet and he was stalking me and taking pictures?
If I thought I ever resented Cassian, right now I think I hated him so much.
I hated how much effort I had to put up just to pretend his warm, masculine scent wasn't getting to my head.
This strange attraction sank so deep, my cells shifted and grew heavy as they soaked it in.
I shot up to my feet and slammed the pictures on his desk.
"Don't you dare insult me like that!" I sneered. "I may be desperate for help, but I do not entertain men!"
His brow arched. "So you're bipolar?"
Wait what?
"What the hell." I snapped. "I'm straight!"
Why was I even explaining?
His gaze flickered to me like my reaction confirmed something—something that piqued his interest—as dry amusement played in it.
"So the pictures might be true then?"
"These pictures mean nothing because nothing happened, and you know that." Rage pulsed within me. "I needed to get home, and that was all."
"And besides, that's my personal life. And I don't think it's got anything to do with the contract."
He tilted his head to the side, straightened from his chair and came to stand behind me.
His breath brushed the shell of my ear.
"Ayla… I'm sure you know desperate people do desperate things. Plus, you look too pissed for someone innocent."
My fingernails dug into my palm.
I might have as well shot myself in the leg for saying I was desperate because right now, I wasn't sure I would hear the last of it.
I felt the need to prove to him I wasn't the kind of girl he thought I was.
His finger brushed the small of my back, slightly.
My heart skipped, and I backed up; my arse brushing against his thigh.
He felt warm—a dangerous kind of warm that made my insides feel like an oven. I pulled away and turned around.
All my anger and defences suddenly deserted me as he stood so close.
His condescending stare burned me and infuriated me.
My brain felt frazzled; I couldn't even think straight.
A strange desire to have him drag my arm and turn me around, so my back could rub hard against his front one more time, filled me.
I was breathless.
He maintained a three-inch distance; his black eyes watched me with slim irritation.
Fuck!
I'd never felt any of this whorish feeling before.
Heat broke out on my temple.
Maybe this was a cue for me to get away from him. From the devil and his trap.
Those dark-blue eyes roamed my curves in a way that spelled appropriate viewing.
I picked up my purse and made to walk past him.
My new boss grabbed my wrist, his eyes heated. "I never said we're done here."
I could feel the furnace from his body burn into mine.
I pulled away. "Well, I'm done."
The tiniest flicker passed through Cassian's gaze.
He scraped his teeth across his bottom lip, maybe in shock I was walking out on his offer.
The action drifted my attention to his mouth, and strange warmth filled my stomach.
His office suddenly felt smaller and hotter as we stood there.
He didn't move away for me to escape—I didn't want him to—we simply stared at one another.
Something dark flickered in his eyes, and the butterflies in my stomach suddenly disappeared.
His jaw ticked in thought. "Sit let's discuss the offer."
Another command.
I hated the way it rolled off his tongue.
But as my gaze coasted to his, the dark storm that looked back at me changed my mind real quick.
The tension in his shoulders told me that his patience was fraying like the air in my lungs.
I sighed and sat back down.