by Sam Crescent
“Promptly at seven,” Damian replied. “Raymond will meet you at the door with a key and instructions. I would recommend bringing whatever you might not be able to live without for the day.”
Layla released a breath and broke into a wide smile that shone through her eyes. “Thank you so much, Mr. Harker. I’m really looking forward to this opportunity.”
Yes, as am I.
****
“What the hell is taking so long?” Harold Poleski barked when Layla answered the phone. She’d barely had time to say “hello”. “You’ve had the job for over two weeks. How long do you need to find something condemning about that fraud? Or are you too busy playing peek-a-boo with his mutts?”
Layla sucked in a breath and cast a glance around the room. She couldn’t see another person, but that didn’t mean no one would walk in at any given moment. Currently, at least, she was alone with the massive seventy-five-gallon fish tank, its occupants, and one content Siamese cat. Layla would have preferred to move to a restroom to take this call, but Elsa was curled up in her lap and purring softly, so that wasn’t happening. Keeping her other hand loosely entrenched in Elsa’s long fur, Layla lowered her voice and said, “Are you for real? I’m at work right now. You can’t be calling me.”
“Working on Saturday now?” Harold asked. It wasn’t the kind of question asked out of curiosity, let alone concern.
Elsa’s front claws flexed lightly in Layla’s pant leg, but she didn’t otherwise move.
“Saturdays are my half-days,” Layla said. “I should be home by two at the latest. If you want to talk—”
“I have a meeting,” Harold said. “Just tell me what’s taking so damn long.”
“I don’t know what you think I can even find for you,” Layla said, trying not to lose her temper. “Everything I’ve seen so far is on the up-and-up.” Unlike you. “It’s not like I have access to private information.” She barely even saw Damian Harker.
Harold made a sound, as if he were biting back a growl. “Fine. How long until that probation period is over?”
Layla closed her eyes. She really wished she could lie to him, but he’d notice when she moved out of her apartment. “It’s a one-month period, so about two more weeks.” But maybe she should give some more thought to sabotaging her job. Could she do that without hurting the animals? So far, she hadn’t thought of a way.
With a frustrated huff, Harold said, “I’ll be in touch.”
Layla pulled her phone from her ear, the line already disconnected. A burning sensation built behind her eyes in time with the darkening of the screen, and she fought to hold the tears back. I hate my family. At least when her father had been around, she’d been left out of their shenanigans, but even then, that was the only positive.
Where her uncle was manipulative and resourceful, her father was impulsive and violent. It was those traits that had landed him in prison, after years of bouncing in and out of jail for minor offences. Since his incarceration, Layla had known it was only a matter of time before her uncle dragged her in to the family nightmare. In some ways, she was surprised it’d taken so long. But no matter how she looked at it, she’d never imagined he’d put her in a spot like this.
Layla set the phone down on the sofa and stroked her hand over Elsa’s silky, light-colored fur.
Elsa’s tail twitched, and her claws flexed again.
“You’re real pretty, Elsa,” Layla whispered. She sniffled a little. “This job is kind of ridiculous, but it’s also amazing. I can’t believe I’m getting paid to let you sit in my lap right now.” She moved her hand and scratched lightly at the base of one of Elsa’s ears. “I’m glad you decided to get to know me.” If her hiring had hinged on all the animals approving of her, she’d surely have been turned away. The beautiful dark-gray and cream-colored Siamese feline had taken one look at her on the day of her interview and run out of the room.
Damian was a smart man, though. He understood that cats were harder to win over. From what Raymond had told her, Damian was surprised it’d only taken three days for Elsa to come around.
“Her claws aren’t that sharp.”
Layla jumped so bad at Damian’s unexpected statement—his unexpected arrival—that Elsa made a distinct sound of disapproval and leapt from her lap. Leaving her companionless and covered, as per her new usual, in fur. Attempting to gather herself, Layla returned her attention to her boss and intelligently asked, “What?”
Damian stood barely three feet away, hands in his pockets, suit coat still buttoned. He studied her for several seconds, not answering her question, and finally released an almost-silent breath. He turned, paced across the room to his aquarium, and opened one of the cabinet doors beneath, the one used to store certain essentials. He returned with a box of tissues, unbuttoned his coat, and sat beside her. With the box extended toward her, he asked, “What is it?”
Oh my God. She’d started crying. All because of her stupid, criminal family. The family she couldn’t talk about. It would ruin her new and admittedly wonderful job, but it would ruin so much more than that, too. Besides, what if her uncle had people in place to handle traitors? Layla swallowed heavily and accepted the box, taking several tissues before self-consciously wiping at her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Harker.” She balled up the dirtied tissues inside a clean one, unable to look at the devastatingly handsome man beside her.
“I didn’t ask for apologies,” Damian said. He twisted around and curled a finger under her chin, turning her head toward him. Startling her enough to take her breath away—again. “Is it something I can fix?”
The question threw her so much Layla probably would have gaped if he didn’t have hold of her jaw. It was an arguably small point of contact, but his skin tingled against hers, like it had the day they’d met. The only other time he’d touched her. In that moment she realized exactly how badly she wanted more from him. What is wrong with me? She should know better; she did know better, but she couldn’t look away from those captivating eyes. His nearness made her heart beat faster and her breath come shorter.
She licked her lips without thought, preparing herself to answer him somehow, and caught the momentary flicker of his gaze. “It’s not— No, it’s— Personal. Family … stuff. I have a demanding family. A selfish, demanding family.” She had to swallow. He hadn’t released her—from his stare or his grip—and she was stuttering like a lovestruck fool. “It’s nothing to worry about … Mr. Harker.”
“Damian,” he said. “You’re going to be living here soon, and you’re taking care of my family. I don’t think we need to be so formal. Call me Damian.” He finally released her chin, but instead of pulling away, his hand swept lightly up her cheek until he caught a stray tear with his thumb. “If you want. Layla.”
Oh, she wanted. But what she wanted had nothing to do with names and professional, respectful, relationships. “I … would be comfortable with that. Damian.”
The amber of his eyes seemed to burn a little brighter, and for the briefest moment Layla was absolutely sure he was going to close the distance between them and kiss her. Her entire body yearned for it. It was all she could do to keep from parting her lips in anticipation.
Then he retreated, removing his hand from her skin and pushing to his feet. “Go home for the day if you’ve got everything done. Try to relax.” He paused halfway to the open-door entry of the room and looked back at her again. “And remember, Layla, you have connections now. If your family, or anyone, tries to bully you, come to me.”
Layla stared after him as he strode from the room. Despite the irony, she was flattered by his offer. She knew it wouldn’t hold up if he knew the truth, but she appreciated the sentiment. More than that, she was stunned by it. Two and a half weeks on the job and already he was offering her something so significant. It was almost a dream.
Almost.
Chapter Four
“Mr. Harker, you have a message from Layla Evangeline,” Damian’s personal assistant said, in her usual
hushed way of speaking, as soon as he stepped from the elevator. She held out his cell phone, which he never took into big meetings. “Also, Mr. Poleski’s in your office. I told him you were in a meeting, but he insisted on waiting.”
Damian held up his free hand, casually dismissing the unimportant notifications on his phone with the other, and his assistant snapped her mouth closed. “It’s fine. Did Layla say if it was urgent?” Tank had had his annual checkup that afternoon, and while Damian wasn’t expecting any problems, he wanted to be prepared if something had come up.
“She specifically said that it wasn’t, sir.”
Good. An idea struck him, then. Ordinarily he’d deal with the colleague physically waiting on him first, but since it had been four months since Layla had started with him and he was no closer to learning anything new, Damian decided it was time to poke the bear. In a manner of speaking. So, as he made his way down the hall toward his top-floor office, he dialed his live-in pet-sitter.
His PA lifted her brows, obviously questioning his choice of priorities, but he brushed her off. It was her job to assist him, not judge him.
“Damian, hi,” Layla said in greeting after barely two rings. “No one interrupted your meeting for me, right? I specifically said it wasn’t urgent. Like three times.”
His lips twitched and he pushed open his office door. “The meeting’s over. I want to know how the appointment went. Did Tank give you any trouble?”
There was a whisper of relief in her voice when she spoke next, but he chose to forgive it. This was the first time she’d taken any of the animals to his vet without him present, so she’d probably been nervous.
“Tank was an angel,” Layla said. “He obeyed every command I gave him without a problem. He didn’t even take my arm off to chase after the squirrels.”
“I should hope not,” Damian said. Although Tank did have a thing for squirrels.
Harold Poleski looked up as Damian stepped into the office. He was settled in one of the two matching guest chairs positioned in front of Damian’s large, expensive work desk, with his ankle crossed over his knee. He opened his mouth, but bit his tongue at the sight of Damian on his phone. An unmistakable flicker of displeasure passed through his eyes.
Damian met his gaze for a moment as he shut the door, but he kept his words focused on his conversation. “I’m just stepping back into my office, Layla. Tell me about Tank’s checkup.” He pulled out his desk chair, well aware of Harold’s gaze as he sat.
“Of course, sorry,” Layla said. “It went great. The doctor said he’s super happy with what he saw. His weight’s good, and they clipped his nails while we were there, too.”
“How are his teeth?” The question was unnecessary. If his vet said Tank looked good, Tank’s teeth were okay. But he wanted to get a little deeper under Harold’s skin.
“Oh, they look good considering his age,” Layla replied. “He recommended you consider a cleaning in six months or so, but honestly I think it was one of those ‘standard speech’ things.”
“He has said that before.”
Harold cleared his throat in the semi-polite manner designed to remind someone of someone else’s presence.
“Thank you for the report, Layla,” Damian said, playing along. He sat up a little in his chair and everything. “Is there anything else?”
“Um, I don’t—oof!” The latter was most definitely not part of her intended response. Damian opened his mouth to ask if she was okay, but she gathered herself faster. “Sorry. Elsa jumped on me. No, nothing else.”
Ah. That explained it, then. “Good. We’ll talk later.” He disconnected and set his phone on the desktop, offering the older man across from him a polite smile that undoubtedly failed to reach his eyes. “Apologies, Harold. One of my dogs had his annual physical today, and I wanted to know how it went.”
Harold hesitated with his response long enough to assure Damian of his opinion on the issue. “Well, I’m sure your new caretaker would’ve called if there was a problem.”
“As it turns out,” Damian said. He leaned back in his chair, elbows on the armrests, and pressed the tips of his fingers together. “So, what brings you to my office this afternoon, Harold?”
****
There were a lot of perks to living at the Harker Estate. Top of the list had to be the luxury she got to partake in, especially during her downtime. Layla had thought she’d miss her little apartment more than she did, but, as she made her way to the hot tub, she decided she did not. She did not miss living in a small, cheap, ill-maintained apartment in a bad neighborhood. She did not miss paying rent, or utilities, or dealing with the cable company. More than any of that, she did not miss her uncle’s spontaneous drop-in visits, or the anxiety that plagued her because of them.
Living at Harker Estate brought a surprising sense of freedom that Layla hadn’t expected.
A sense of freedom that fled her mind when she realized, far too late, that Damian Harker seemed to have had the same brilliant idea as she had that night. Except he’d beaten her to it.
Her feet came to a stop, already on the cool stone surface that surrounded the inlaid pool-tub combo. His back was to her, but there was no mistaking that aura, even as it relaxed in the quietly bubbling, steaming water. His arms were resting on the stone edge, bent at the elbows, probably so his hands could dip into the water, and his head was tilted up toward the sky. Shirtless, and boasting lightly dampened skin, Damian Harker was more of a vision than usual. Which was saying something.
God, he had great shoulders. And biceps. She was such a sucker for good arms.
Layla swallowed, clutched tighter to the towel she’d wrapped around herself for modesty, and silently prepared to turn around. Yes, she lived there, too, but she wasn’t about to be so presumptuous as to join her billionaire boss in the hot tub. Alone. As much as she maybe wanted to.
“Are you going to stand there all night?”
Layla nearly dropped her towel. “Um … what?” He’d heard her. Of course he’d heard her. She wasn’t a ninja.
Damian rolled his head to the side enough to look over at her. “Well?” He raised both brows and, after a second, gestured with one arm toward the water. “Get in.”
She should have declined. Insisted on giving him his privacy. Instead, she continued up to the handrail, dropped her towel on the ground, and stepped into the water. It was hot against her skin, but cool in comparison to Damian’s watchful stare. The hot tub she’d previously judged to be a respectable size suddenly seemed small.
“Are you afraid of me, Layla?” There was a new tone to Damian’s deep, always thrilling voice that sent fresh chills down Layla’s spine.
“What? No. Of course not.” She was just afraid of her attraction to him. Of being alone and half-naked with the nation’s Most Eligible Bachelor. Don’t think about it. Yeah, as if. She moved to sit with a safe but polite distance between them. “I just hadn’t been expecting anyone to be out here, and I didn’t want to intrude on your personal time. I know you’re always so busy.”
One edge of his lips lifted in a small grin. “I am busy,” he said. “But even I try to relax from time to time.”
Layla smiled. “That’s good to know.”
The sound of the hot tub filled the space between them, her words hanging in the air, and Layla fought not to squirm. She couldn’t call it an awkward silence. She didn’t feel uncomfortable. But Damian was staring at her, his amber eyes smoldering and his skin glistening from the steam. He was mouthwatering. He’s my boss. She needed to think of something, make conversation, before she humiliated herself—and got herself fired.
Layla took a breath, opting to go with the first innocent query that popped into her head. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.” His eyes glittered under the waxing moonlight. One thing was sure, Damian Harker was not afraid of eye-contact.
Layla swallowed. “I’ve just been curious about Ares and Elsa. How did you choose their names?�
�
His lips twitched again. “Ares was easy,” he said. He finally lifted his gaze up to the night sky. “The Greek god of war was always my favorite. I admired his ruthless ambition and strength. So when I adopted Ares as a puppy, I couldn’t think of a better name.”
Layla smiled. She could see that easily. It humanized him a little, too. “And Elsa?”
The whisper of amusement on Damian’s face faded away. “I never had any pets growing up,” he said. “We couldn’t have dogs where we lived. And even though my mother always wanted a cat, she couldn’t have one due to allergies.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and Layla realized this story wasn’t so easy.
She scooted closer and rested a hand on his arm without thinking. “I’m sorry. If it’s none of my business—”
Damian let out a breath and offered her a small, real smile. “It’s fine. Elsa was my mother’s favorite Disney character. I never cared, but … after she died, I went to the nearest shelter and stalked their cat selection until I found the right kitten. I considered giving her my mother’s name, but I couldn’t go through with that.”
“So you went with her favorite character instead,” Layla said softly. She felt bad for asking about something that dredged up sour memories, even if she’d had no way to know. But she also felt incredibly honored that he’d actually shared the story with her.
The line of his mouth softened. “Exactly.”
Layla let her hand fall back to her lap, but she didn’t move to put more distance between them again. “I’m sorry … about your mom. I lost mine, too, but I was two. I can’t say I knew her.” She offered him a smile. “The most I know now is that her name was Evangeline.”
One of Damian’s eyebrows arched high on his forehead.
“My dad had my name legally changed,” Layla explained. “About a year, I think, after she died. He told me it was so I would always remember.” She knew now that was a lie, but it was what he’d told her at the time. In a way, she suspected he’d done it as much for himself.