What She Deserves Read online

  The thought of her clawing another man’s sheets and sobbing his name was enough to make him want to punch the wall, but he maintained his calm.

  “Whoever the lucky bastard is, maybe I should put him on notice.”

  “Why?”

  “Now that I know you’re in town, his days are numbered.”

  Her lips tightened, but the heat of desire banked in her eyes.

  She tossed her head so that her black hair swished to the left in her signature move—which meant she was about to give him a piece of her mind. Sweet-natured Layla had a sharp tongue when pushed too hard. But instead of a soul-slicing barb that cut him to pieces, her lips paused in an open position, and her gaze drifted to a point beyond his shoulder as if someone had caught her eye.

  Almost at the same time, a hand touched his shoulder. Rashad didn’t have to turn around to know Natasha was standing behind him. She came up beside him, wearing a friendly smile on her face.

  “Hi,” she said, looking between them.

  A flash of—hurt?—filled Layla’s eyes. Dammit. Natasha’s appearance had reversed what little progress he’d made, which hadn’t been much at all. He’d conveyed the message loud and clear to Layla that he still wanted her, but Natasha’s appearance had the potential to make him look like a liar. A game player, like she thought him to be.

  Her lips expanded into an equally friendly smile. “Hi, I’m Layla.”

  “I’m Natasha.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Her gaze lifted to Rashad. No emotion in her eyes, only a cool exterior that was in direct contrast to the passionate woman he knew her to be. “It was good to see you again, Rashad. I have to go. Take care.”

  She glided away—back straight, steps fluid and graceful. If not for the silver high heels that played peekaboo with the hem of her flowy dress, one could easily believe that she was floating on air instead of walking across the floor. She took her position at Ethan’s side, once again rejoining the conversation she abandoned earlier, and the absence of her presence unearthed an unexpected longing. Layla Fleming had rocked his world on many occasions, and right now he was hard-pressed to recall why he’d wanted to slow down.

  “Who is she?” Natasha asked, following his line of sight.

  “No one,” Rashad muttered, but she wasn’t no one.

  He’d never met a woman he couldn’t persuade to his point of view, until Layla. After six months together, he’d asked for them to slow down, and she walked away. Completely unexpected. And, apparently, she had lied to him.

  No one was perfect, and he should accept that his previously perfect record had been tarnished. Losing Layla had been a one off.

  But her dismissal and dishonesty not only piqued his interest, they challenged him in a way that caused an exhilarated tightening of his body. No person on earth loved a challenge more than he did, and he was determined to get her back into his bed.

  Yes, there were other fish in the sea, but he wanted this fish.

  He’d have to cancel with Natasha. No way he was sleeping with her tonight after that interaction with Layla.

  Envious of the cling of the fabric that lay against her soft skin, his eyes didn’t leave her rear view as he moved toward the exit with Natasha.

  Dick hard. Fighting the urge to go get her.

  3

  Rashad’s voice was distracting, all low and sexy. How did his clients concentrate on his counsel when he talked?

  Layla tried to act normal, half-listening to the conversation around her. Smiling when they smiled. Laughing when they laughed so it wasn’t obvious that she barely paid attention.

  What a surprise. She’d never expected to stumble across Rashad at the event. She thought for sure she’d run into him somewhere mundane—like the supermarket or one of the restaurants they’d frequented. So much so, she’d stopped going to some of her favorite places to make sure she never saw him.

  She became acutely aware of him, and what must be his date, leaving the venue. How dare he ask if she was seeing anyone when he’d come there with another woman? She bit down on her molars to stem the shaking that threatened to overtake her body.

  Her eyes followed him and Natasha out the door. Rashad Greene. Phenomenal in bed, not so phenomenal out of it.

  A well-formed man with skin that was dark brown, bordering on black, he oozed sex appeal with every action. His walk. His talk. His laugh. The way he scrubbed a hand across the low, fine beard on a jaw that looked strong and sharp enough to cut through marble.

  Tall in stature, he had an arresting face, the kind that made you stop and stare against your will. His thick lips seemed almost indecent with their sensuality. When he was aroused, his broad nose quivered and his eyes—as dark as midnight—trailed lazily down her body as if he recognized his own power and reveled in it.

  That’s why she’d had to make a clean break. That’s why she’d lied and pretended she was moving to D.C. The sexual tension between them practically crackled whenever they were together. Her wrist still felt warm where he’d touched her, and she regretfully acknowledged she had zero self-control when faced with the magnitude of Rashad Greene’s midnight-colored eyes and seductive smile.

  The men she’d dated since their break up—Devin, Chance, and most recently, Elijah—had all been inadequate substitutes for the man who made her blood heat with one lazy smile. Being with him was like having a best friend she couldn’t keep her hands off of. She’d missed him, at first. As time went on, she realized with a sinking heart that he wouldn’t call, which meant he didn’t miss her the way she missed him. That’s when she resolved to put Rashad and all memories of him out of her mind.

  “I’m ready to go,” Ethan said in her ear.

  His voice snapped Layla into the present.

  “Sounds good to me,” she said.

  She and Ethan said goodbye and made their way out of the room. Layla picked up her mink stole at the coat check, and on the way to the front door, she pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her dress and called the chauffeur to let him know to meet them out front.

  “Big plans this weekend?” Ethan asked as he scrolled through his phone.

  “Nothing major. Grocery shopping and laundry. That’s about it.”

  They stepped outside, and she inhaled the dewy February air, cooler from the gently falling rain.

  “Who was the guy you went off with? I didn’t recognize him.” As a real estate developer, Ethan prided himself on knowing people and had an uncanny ability to never forget a face or name.

  “No one important. An old friend, that’s all.” Layla kept her voice casual.

  “Your reaction to seeing him suggested he’s more than an old friend,” Ethan remarked.

  He was way too perceptive, and she’d been working with him for five years, so he’d come to know her well, like she’d come to know him.

  “He’s my ex. Rashad,” she admitted.

  Ethan’s brow wrinkled as he concentrated. “The one you broke up with a few years ago?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was this the first time you’ve seen each other since then?”

  “Yes.”

  “Running into him must have been surprising.”

  “Very,” Layla admitted.

  Ethan didn’t ask any more questions. They were not close enough for him to pry any deeper into her feelings and thoughts about her private life.

  The black limo sidled up to the curb, and the driver, Halston, hopped out wearing a black uniform and cap. He was middle-aged, with a scar that ran from his left cheek to the center of the side of his neck. Ethan had hired him because he was a former Navy Seal and for that reason doubled as a bodyguard. He opened the door, and they both slid into the back.

  During the ride to Layla’s loft, they talked a little about tonight’s event, and then Ethan focused on the phone, following up on messages left on his voicemail. She didn’t pay too much attention to his conversations because they were mostly business-related, and he was very rigid about the se
paration of his work and personal life. His executive assistant handled his work calendar and business issues, while Layla concentrated on his personal calendar and personal tasks—like managing his household, picking up his dry cleaning, and making sure important people in his life received the appropriate gifts on their birthdays and special occasions.

  She joined his staff after being bored as a legal secretary, and while looking for more exciting work, she learned about the opportunity with Ethan. After working for two demanding attorneys, anticipating the needs of one man didn’t pose much of an issue.

  Though supportive, her parents hadn’t been thrilled by her career decisions. They’d expected her to go into law like her other siblings—three of whom worked at the family law firm and two of whom had gone into local politics. Much preferring the supportive role, Layla knew that path wasn’t for her.

  Ethan could be demanding at times, particularly when he was in a bad mood, but overall she enjoyed her job. She had great benefits, a six-figure salary, and nice perks that included trips to exotic locations, hefty bonuses, expensive gifts, and free use of a loft in an exclusive part of town.

  When they arrived at her building, Halston came around with an umbrella and opened the door.

  “Good night, Ethan. I’ll see you on Monday,” Layla said.

  He waved distractedly, deeply engrossed in a phone conversation. She didn’t take offense. She’d worked with him enough to know that he wasn’t being rude, he was busy.

  Halston escorted her to the door, and after a quick goodbye, she made her way up to her loft. Inside, she kicked off her heels and slipped out of the dress Ethan instructed a local boutique to send over for tonight’s event. Another perk. Whenever she accompanied him to an event, he made sure she didn’t have to pay for a single item needed to prepare.

  After washing off her makeup and brushing her teeth, she crawled into bed but couldn’t sleep. Not with Rashad on her mind. The image of his face gnawed at her and kept her unduly restless after a long day that should result in a night of fitful sleep.

  She stared up at the high ceiling, crisscrossed with exposed pipes and wood beams. She wanted to call one of her best friends to tell them she’d seen Rashad tonight but decided to wait until tomorrow.

  To her, Rashad was still an enigma. He remained closed off, sharing very little about his past, while she’d been an open book. He had a way of pulling information out of you while revealing nothing about himself. Perhaps that had hurt the most. That he didn’t want to share his life with her beyond spending the night at each other’s house and dating. She was never allowed to get past the surface with him.

  He knew all about her big family of three brothers and two sisters, and how difficult leaving the D.C. area had been when she decided to move to Atlanta. All she knew was that his parents died when he was young, causing him to spend time in foster care. He’d also started a financial investment firm, Newmark Advisors, with his best friend, Alex.

  Six months together, and she never really knew him. Nothing had made that clearer than when he suggested the new terms of their relationship. To go from spending the bulk of their free time together, to being relegated to what she considered a booty call, had been devastating. She kept wondering what she’d done wrong. She’d thought they were heading toward a long-term relationship, while he’d been secretly plotting a way out.

  With her wounded pride and damaged heart barely intact, she eventually turned him down. A week into his constant phone calls, she lied and said she was moving back to D.C. The calls stopped, and though she’d gotten her wish, the immediate lack of interest hurt like she’d never experienced before. Clearly, if she were no longer sexually available to him, he was not interested.

  Tonight, he hadn’t denied not trying to call her, which meant he didn’t know she had changed her phone number, which more than anything confirmed he’d only cared about sex. If he’d cared about her as a person, surely he would have reached out to her at least once. Heaven knew she had wanted to reach out to him multiple times but hadn’t, simply to maintain her sanity. Now she was doubly glad she hadn’t. She would have been the only one making an attempt at reconciliation because Rashad simply hadn’t cared.

  Layla burrowed deeper under the duvet. Seeing him had certainly rattled her, but the Atlanta metro area consisted of over eight thousand square miles and over six million people. She didn’t expect to run into him again anytime soon.

  4

  Layla stuffed her feet in a pair of Nike tennis shoes and zipped up her jacket. In the bathroom, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and left the warmth of her loft for a walk in the cold to her favorite neighborhood spot, Coffee Cup. She’d become a regular almost from the time she moved into the loft. The brisk walk was a way to get in some early morning exercise, and treating herself to breakfast was a simple way to pamper herself.

  The entire neighborhood was conducive to walking, with a market nearby and plenty of small, locally owned eateries that served tapas, sandwiches, and other types of meals. Overall, her favorite was Coffee Cup because they served excellent coffee, and their breakfast and lunch were unmatched.

  Strolling down the sidewalk, she allowed the fresh air to revive her, and though she tried not to think about her interaction with Rashad the night before, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. How had he been the past few years? Who was Natasha, the woman he was with? How important was she to him?

  A prick of pain needled her chest, and Layla pushed her way inside the shop with a little more force than necessary. She nodded a greeting at one of the servers, the owner’s eldest daughter. Taking her place in line, she scoured the menu board behind the counter, and when her turn came, she greeted Brent, the owner’s son.

  His big grin welcomed her like always. “Hey, Layla. How’s it going this morning?”

  “Pretty good.”

  “Let’s see… I’m guessing you’ll have a large coffee, a blueberry muffin, and a whole wheat bagel with cream cheese, smoked salmon, and dill.”

  “Did you have to call me out like that?” she asked with a laugh. No matter how many times she looked at the menu, she always ordered the same thing. “One of these days I’m going to switch up my order.”

  “I’m still waiting for that day,” Brent said, punching keys on the register. “By the way, I made sure to keep your favorite table empty.”

  Layla leaned across the metal counter and whispered, “I told you that you don’t have to do that.”

  “I don’t care,” Brent whispered back.

  They both laughed, with her shaking her head, and then she paid for the meal. He was too nice, but she appreciated that he looked out for her. Sometimes the shop could get really full and there would be nowhere to sit, or she’d get stuck sitting at a table in the middle of the dining room, which she hated. The table he’d secured for her with a Reserved sign was in a corner where she could look out at the street.

  Later, she slowly ate her meal while scrolling through the financial app on her phone, happy to see her portfolio was performing nicely. She’d have to thank Ethan for the stock tips he’d given her a month ago. As a financial advisor, Rashad used to give her a lot of advice, but now she—

  “Stop it,” Layla muttered. She’d made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t get caught up thinking about Rashad or the past and needed to keep it.

  After finishing her meal, she left a generous tip before waving and leaving for the short walk back to her place. She was halfway home when she saw Rashad exiting a yellow Porsche illegally parked at the curb. A sports car, flashy like him. He used to own a red one, and when she pointed out that type of vehicle didn’t seem like a financially prudent purchase, he said everyone needed to have a toy, and it brought him pleasure. He more than made up for the indulgence by being smart about other investments of his money.

  Her footsteps slowed, and when his gaze landed on her face, her heart stuttered. Somehow, she remained in motion, on autopilot rather than with any real sense o
f what she was doing.

  Rashad strolled toward her, the epitome of big-dick energy, and he never looked more so than when he was dressed casually, like now. He wore a pair of gray sweatpants and a dark blue Henley that showed off his defined chest and arms. His sexy, swaggerlicious stride turned heads, and his mannerisms conveyed he was not only good in bed, he could make you forget all others while you wept tears of ecstasy. She knew because it had happened to her.

  “Mind if I walk with you?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He fell into step beside her anyway, undeterred by her frosty reception.

  “What are you doing here?” Layla asked, keeping her eyes on the sidewalk in front of them.

  “I knew I’d find you this morning. You’re a creature of habit, and I see nothing’s changed. I thought about joining you for breakfast, but I know how much you like your Saturday morning ritual, so I decided to wait until you finished eating.”

  “How nice of you,” Layla said sarcastically.

  “You still having a large coffee, a blueberry muffin, and a whole wheat bagel with cream cheese, smoked salmon, and dill?”

  Layla came to an abrupt stop. She really needed to change up her choices. Next week for sure. “What’s the point of reciting what I like to eat, Rashad?”

  “You’re the same, Layla. Nothing’s changed—except your phone number.”

  “You finally called.”

  “Yes. Last night you didn’t mention that your number had changed.”

  “If you’d cared to call before, you would have known that,” she pointed out.

  Rashad nodded. “Fair enough. Can we start over?”

  Crossing her arms, Layla asked, “Start what over, exactly?”

  “The conversation from last night.”

  “I thought I made myself clear that I’m not interested in pursuing another relationship or whatever it is you’re interested in.”