Lucius made Layla sit on the chair and took the glass of water from her. He caressed her cheek while his other hand remained in a tight fist.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to break… like this," she whispered.
"You don't need to apologize," Lucius said. Taking out the phone from his pocket, he called Roger. "Come here within a minute." He hung up the call and set the phone on the table.
"Let's have dinner," Layla said, looking at him. His eyes, those deep blue orbs, made her calm somehow. The storm swirling inside her had calmed and she felt better.
"Sir, I'm here," Roger said, bringing their attention to him.
Layla wondered what would happen now because she didn't have plans to tell him.
"Why wasn't I informed? Who slapped Layla? And why the fuck did you let it happen?" Earlier, Lucius had seen the mark on her cheek and his blood boiled. He was going to cut off the fingers of the person who raised his/her hand on his Layla.
"I am sorry, Sir. Before I could understand—" Roger's words ceased in his mouth as Lucius grabbed him by the collar using his one hand.
"Lucius, don't be angry at him," Layla rose to her feet and walked to them. "It was my mother," she finally revealed to him.
"Tell me everything, Roger!" Lucius said as he let him go and took a step back.
Roger began narrating the incident while Layla felt more pathetic. She was 22, but this constant abuse was still a part of her life. It seemed like she could never be freed from her family clutches.
"I've already broken the ties with her, Lucius. I've a plan to answer them in their own language," Layla stated.
"No one can raise a hand on my wife. Your mother made the worst mistake of her life," Lucius said. "Roger, prepare the car… I—"
"I am hungry, Lucius. Let's have dinner first. I've already spoken to my mother. Remember the deal we made. Let me fight my own battles," Layla requested, her voice calm but firm.
Lucius's jaw tightened for a moment, his expression hardening. He clearly wasn't pleased, but he wanted to honor his wife's wishes for now. With a subtle nod, he signaled to Roger to leave the room. His hands found their way to her arms, his touch both possessive and protective. "You can have your revenge, Layla. But you won't stop me from handling things my way. Lucius De Salvo doesn't forgive those who dare to harm his woman."
Layla's heart fluttered at his words. She knew Lucius was fiercely protective, but hearing it made her both comforted and slightly uneasy. "I won't stop you," she whispered, feeling the weight of his gaze on her.
"Good," he said, his tone softening. "Now, let's enjoy dinner."
Lucius placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to her seat with a natural authority. He pulled the chair out for her, and once she was seated, he sat across from her. Moments later, a waiter arrived, pushing a trolley laden with a sumptuous meal.
The evening passed with silence, but Lucius couldn't help but notice how often Layla refilled her glass of wine. Her cheeks flushed deeper with every sip, and though he admired her grace, concern began to creep into his mind. She was drinking far more than he had anticipated.
"Layla," Lucius said gently as she raised her glass once again, "perhaps you've had enough wine for tonight." His eyes bore into hers with affection and warning in them.
She smiled at him, her gaze slightly hazy. "Just one more," she replied softly, but there was a defiant edge to her tone that made Lucius wonder what thoughts were swirling behind those dark, wine-laden eyes.
By the time Layla finished her tenth glass, she felt weightless, her inhibitions loosening with each sip. Leaning back against the chair, her eyes lazily found Lucius, and a slow, playful smile curled on her lips.
"Do you love me?" she asked, her voice was low and teasing.
Lucius studied her for a moment before answering. "You're drunk," he said, standing up from his chair, intent on taking her to home so she could rest.
But before he could help her up, Layla grabbed hold of his tie and yanked him closer, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Do you want to sleep with me? For real?" she asked, her tone sultry and provocative.
Lucius's lips curved into a smirk, intrigued by her boldness. He leaned in closer, his face inches from hers. "Are you sure you want me to have you tonight, like this?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with amusement. "In your current state?"
Layla chuckled softly, her fingers brushing along his cheek. "I told you, I'm not drunk. Just… lighter," she whispered. Her touch became softer, her thumb gently stroking his skin. Her gaze traveled up to his eyes, and she smiled dreamily. "Your eyes… they're so pretty," she murmured, her breath warm against his lips.
Lucius's heart raced slightly at the closeness, her vulnerability drawing him in. He could smell the sweet scent of wine on her breath, mingling with the soft perfume she wore. His instincts told him to hold back, but her touch, her voice, made it difficult to resist the magnetic pull between them.
Lucius's grip tightened as Layla's lips pressed against his, soft and full of desire. It shocked him—the intensity of her kiss, the way she moved against him with such sensuality that his control wavered. For a moment, he let himself feel the heat between them, but he quickly pulled back, his breath unsteady.
"Why aren't you kissing me back?" Layla asked, her voice filled with confusion. Her cheeks were flushed, a deep red from both the wine and her boldness. "Am I doing it wrong?"
Lucius closed his eyes briefly, fighting the urge to give in. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing her warm skin. "Layla, if I start… there's no stopping me. I'm going to ruin you," he warned, his voice low and rough with barely restrained passion in it. "So don't—don't seduce me."
Layla's eyes gleamed, her lips curling into a daring smile. "Then just ruin me," she whispered, leaning closer, her breath brushing against his lips.