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And what was worse was that it wasn’t just a couple at the door, looking for a private place to hide. It was the security guard from the front lobby flanked by the manager of the hotel, and behind him, about half a dozen curious spectators. More were crowding in behind them, even as hotel employees tried to direct them back to the ballroom. Before I could untwist my face or drop my arm, the first flashbulb popped.
“He assaulted me,” Blake said immediately.
I had to give him credit, he knew the best thing he could do now was control the narrative. The security guard stepped in. I immediately relaxed back into a neutral position, but I could still feel the snarl distorting my mouth. I felt like a lion that had been interrupted in the middle of a kill. My body knew it was time to retreat, but my teeth were still bared and my blood was still singing.
“He attackedme!” Layla cried in my defense. Unfortunately, there were twohesin this situation, and one of them looked as defenseless as a rabbit with his ass on the floor and his legs akimbo. The security guard grabbed my arm.
“No, nothim,” Layla said, realizing her mistake. “Blake Morten!”
The hotel’s management had managed to wrestle the professional photographer away, but I saw more than one phone pointed at us from the crowd that had gathered. Maybe there wouldn’t be professional pictures sold to TMZ, but there would be plenty of amateur footage to give this story life.
I weighed my options in a millisecond. If I resisted being detained, the story would be even bigger. I had to go quietly. My reputation was about to be mud either way, but maybe–just maybe–it would recover once the truth came out. I just couldn’t do anything between now and then to make people wonder if I was as violent and unhinged as Blake was about to start telling everyone.
“Layla, I need you to call Jack,” I said quietly, looking down. I didn’t know what my face looked like right now, but I wanted to mitigate the number of wild-eyed photos that people caught.
“Why?”
“Call him,” I repeated. I couldn’t handle the idea of this hitting the news and Jack finding out through someone else. I assumed I was about to be arrested, and I’d use my one phone call on him, but I didn’t know how long it would take to get processed. Ididknow how quickly a story could spread though, and this one had all the makings of a forest fire. Blake wasn’t A list, not by a long shot, but he was relatively famous. Worse, he had a good reputation. And while I wasn’t anywhere near famous, I was known in my field. And then there was Layla. Young, beautiful Layla.
It made me sick to think about what I’d just dragged her into. Her reputation would forever be tinged with this scandal. Anyone who looked her up would see this sordid story, however it played out. We’d been so cautious, not wanting to change how people at the office viewed her. Now the whole world would be looking at her, wondering, speculating.
I never should have touched her.
CHAPTER31
LAYLA
The conversation with my father was strange and distorted in my memory.
“He’swhere?”
“He didwhat?”
“Where is this Blake Morten mother fucker now?”
My dad was usually mild-mannered, but his Irish side came out swinging when his family was threatened.
“He’s… I don’t know. I think they took his statement and let him go.”
“They let the asshole who assaulted you go and they arrestedAiden?”
I don’t remember how I answered the questions. At one point, my mom took over, and I heard the sounds of my dad furiously packing his overnight bag. Her voice was soft and soothing, but I couldn’t remember a thing she’d said after we got off the phone. Except that they were both coming.
I went back to the hotel room in a state of shock. I couldn’t believe that just a few hours ago, Aiden had sat on that bed and watched me get dressed. I was so sure when we left this room that when we came back, he would help me get undressed. Now I twisted my arm behind my back and pulled the zipper down myself. I’d brought cute, slinky nightclothes. The kind that were designed to be taken off rather than sleeping in. Despairingly, I pulled on Aiden’s sweatpants and t-shirt instead, which looked utterly ridiculous on me.
The smell of his cologne, the sharp notes stitched into the cotton, at first brought a giant wave of comfort. Then, when my body realized it was just the ghost of him, aching sadness took its place. I should have gone to the station with him but he was so adamant that I not.
“Don’t make this any more interesting for them.” He’d bit off the word underneath his breath, somehow looking both savage and resigned.
Trembling set in. Fine tremors that came one after another until l crawled in bed and squeezed my knees to my chest, trying to get them to stop. I must have stayed like that for hours because I was still holding my knees when my parents called. They were in the hotel lobby. What was my room number? The one Maureen had given them must be wrong because no one was answering the door.
Numbly, I gave them the right one. It was only when I heard the heavy fall of my dad’s fist on the door that I realized that, like it or not, they were about to get another big shock. I walked to the door, my ears ringing. I felt like I was triple wrapped in cotton wool. My dimensions were off and everything was muffled. When my mom threw her arms around me, the comfort felt far off and distant. When my dad looked me up and down and said, “What the hell are you wearing?” in a voice that told me he knew exactly what I was wearing, my nerves stayed frozen solid. Not a twitch.
“I’m wearing Aiden’s clothes,” I said in a strange, numb voice that didn’t sound like me.
My mom was silently looking around, taking in the scene. My dress on the floor. Aiden’s suitcase on the luggage rack. Two toothbrushes in the holder. There was no mistaking what was happening here.
“Oh,” she said, her voice quiet and startled.
