Chapter 62

Layla

My heart raced as I watched Eli on that tiny screen. My mind whirred, trying to gather up any and all details I could that might provide me a clue as to where he was. As to how we might get out of here.

He was still unharmed. Still bound and gagged. Still frightened but determined.

Still his father’s son.

The guard had removed the gun from his temple, but he was close by, ready to replace it at a moment’s notice. They were ready. Prepared.

But still, there must be something I could use. Some weakness I could exploit. I was in their game now; I had to learn how to play it.

Until I figured that out, I’d be buying time.

“What do you want?” I asked, my tone ice-cold.

Marco leaned forward to set his glass of wine on the coffee table. His dark eyes gleamed with a strange light. “Layla, I want what I’ve always wanted—you.”

“What?” Of all the things I’d expected him to say, that was not among them. “The hell does that mean, Marco?”

“Simple.” He shrugged and leaned back into his chair. “Marry me. Become my wife and my woman in all ways, and I will ensure both you and Eli lead a long and happy life.”

My stomach churned. “You’re insane if you think I’d agree to that.”

“You will want for nothing.” Marco didn’t hesitate, unbothered by the venom in my tone. “Eli will enjoy every luxury and opportunity a child—and then a young man—could ever want.”

“You’re sick.” I shook my head, maybe just to hide the sudden trembling in my hands. “There’s something so wrong with you.”

Marco tilted his head, feigning disappointment. “Don’t be so hasty. You’re a smart woman, Layla. You know I always get what I want. And I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

Nausea crawled up the back of my throat. How could I ever have found him charming or endearing? How could I ever have called him a friend?

Without warning, he rose. Placing his body directly in front of mine, close enough his presence overwhelmed me. So I didn’t move back as he reached out a hand.

His warm finger slid down my cheek in the softest, most sickening caress.

Every muscle in my body went tense, taut. But I didn’t step back. Didn’t move away. Didn’t let him cow me or force my gaze to waver.

“You’re the strongest person I know,” Marco murmured. His finger slid back up my cheek. “That strength is exactly what I need at my side.”

I forced myself to keep breathing. To stay stock still, though everything in me wanted to shove him away and run. But I knew I couldn’t do that.

Not yet.

I needed to buy time, and I needed to think. To find a way to turn the situation to my advantage. He had to have a weakness.

“You want me?” I tilted my head, holding his gaze. “How do I know you’ll keep your promise if I say yes? How do I know Eli will be safe and cared for?”

“You have my word,” said Marco evenly. He stepped back, resumed his seat. “When you’re in a position as important as mine, that means a lot. My reputation is everything.”

“Your word,” I snarled. “That means nothing to me when you’ve lied so much and so often. Your word is less than the trash on the street outside my home.”

His face crumpled in anger, and I knew my words had hit home—had struck like barbs. When he spoke, venom laced his tone. “You’re in no position to negotiate, Layla.”

“And yet, here I am,” I murmured. “If you want me to trust you, prove that you’re not lying. Bring Eli here, unharmed.”

Marco studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded to one of the guards. “Go. Bring the boy.”

My heart raced as the guard left the room, but I held my gaze steady, my hands, my posture. I couldn’t let my fear show. Marco was watching too closely, waiting for me to slip.

“Why the resistance, Layla?” Marco asked, his face sliding back into its normal unbothered charm. “I could give you anything and everything—the whole world on a silver platter.”

“Maybe I don’t want the world.”

“Power, protection. Freedom.” The last word echoed between us—the true currency in his offer. “Why cling to a man like Aldo, to the hard, dangerous lifestyle he offers?”

My teeth gritted together against the urge to speak.

“He’s a relic of the past,” Marco continued, like he couldn’t sense my unease, my anger. “He clings to the old ways, to principles that will destroy him.”

“At least he has principles,” I replied coolly.

Marco laughed, a harsh sound that echoed in the room. “You’re going to regret those words.”

My fingers twitched, itching for the weapon concealed beneath my shirt. I’d found at least one weakness to exploit—Marco’s guards hadn’t bothered to check.

Marco had called me strong, but he hadn’t thought me strong enough to defend myself. To fight back.

And now, standing before Marco, his guards at my back, I took comfort in the weight of that weapon. In the knowledge that I knew how to use it. That I could, would. Had.

I just needed the right moment to act.

The soft patter of footsteps echoed from the hall behind. Marco and I both turned towards the door as it opened, admitting first a guard … and then my son.

“Eli,” I breathed, my heart in my throat at the sight of him. He was so small, so pale, beside that guard.

And yet, he held his shoulders square, his chin high. Gaze unwavering. Frightened, but determined. Such strength!

The sight made my racing heart ache.

“Mommy!” Eli cried, pulling free of the guard. He raced across the room towards me, and I broke. I dropped to my knees, opened my arms, and folded him against me.

My arms wrapped so tightly I thought I might never let go. He was here. Safe. Mine.

“It’s okay, baby,” I whispered into his silky blond hair. “I’m here.”

Marco’s voice cut through our nearly teary reunion. “Touching, really. But don’t forget, Layla—I still hold all the cards.”

I stood, keeping Eli behind me. “Let me take him back to Aldo’s estate, then I will come right back. You get what you want, he goes free.”

Marco’s smile faded, replaced by a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I don’t think so. Nobody’s leaving, Layla. Not until you agree to my terms.”

I pressed my hands to my hips—positioning my fingers within easy range of my pistol. Any second now. I was ready.

The time to act was nigh.

And when it struck, I wouldn’t hesitate.

“All right,” I said, my voice soft. “You win. I stay. I become your woman. Your wife. Whatever you want.”

“What?” Marco blinked in surprise, caught off guard.

“You’re right.” I took a slow, cautious step towards him. “I don’t have a choice. You win, Marco.”

His smirk returned, wide and pleased. “I knew I could make you see reason.”

He stood. And he reached for me.

And that was his final mistake.

In one swift motion, I pulled the handgun from my waistband and pressed it against his waist. Marco froze, his smirk replaced with fury.

“Tell me,” I murmured. “Who holds the cards now?”