“I don’t care where you are or what you’re going through. Be back for the ball, or else.”
“Or else, what?” his brother asked, clearly wanting to be issued an official ultimatum, which Nathan would be more than happy to give. Their relationship had always been like this, contentious and competitive. One of his earliest memories was being pulled off of Andrew by a servant during one of the many fistfights they’d had as kids.
But before he could tell his brother exactly what kind of hell he’d bring down if Andrew didn’t come home in time for the ball, Nathan’s door banged open and then slammed shut.
“What the—” Nathan broke off when he saw who was now standing with her back pressed to his door. She was maybe ten pounds heavier under the ridiculous purple scrubs, and her hair was much longer, but he recognized her in an instant. It was Layla Matthews, a woman he hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. A woman who he still hated with every fiber of his being.
CHAPTER TWO
“I’LL have to call you back,” Nathan said to his brother.
“How will you call me back if you don’t know where I am?” his brother asked.
But Nathan just hung up. He dropped the receiver in its cradle without taking his eyes off of his unexpected guest.
“Come out of there, young lady,” Kate, his assistant, yelled from the other side of the door. “Security is on their way, and we’ll have you forcibly removed.”
Layla gave him an apologetic smile and held up a finger. “Hold on just a moment, please,” she said. Then she turned her attention to the door’s locking apparatus.
He stared at her, taking in everything from her springy black curls, barely held back by an overburdened scrunchie, to her large, almond-shaped brown eyes, which were crinkled with chagrin. Her mouth, though free of lipstick, remained as lush and inviting as ever. And her nose, which was a little large, made her dark face more striking than gorgeous.
Nathan tended to date gorgeous women, but at that moment he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Layla. He felt himself harden. Even after what she’d done, his desire for her couldn’t be regulated by logic.
After some fiddling, she managed to lock the door. She paused and took a moment to regain her composure before approaching his desk. Layla held her hand out towards him.
“Hi, I’m Layla Matthews,” she said.
He stood but made no move to shake her hand.
“Henry Matthews daughter,” she said, as if he needed another reminder of who she was.
“I know who you are,” he said. “My question is, what are you doing here?”
***
Layla didn’t know what she’d been expecting when she barged into Nathan Sinclair’s office, but it hadn’t been the man she found behind a large metal desk.
She had thought Nathan Sinclair would be like most CEOs—clean-cut, older, with gray hair, and wearing a black business suit. But the man behind the desk was not only exceedingly handsome, he looked to be just a little older than her own twenty-eight years. And though she could see a black jacket hanging on his hawkish executive chair, he wasn’t wearing a tie, and the top two buttons of his crisp, white button-up shirt were open, allowing it to stretch across his broad chest in a very unbusiness-like way. Also, unlike the CEO she had imagined, he wore his sable brown hair slightly too long with about three days worth of unchecked beard growth.
But what really made her uneasy were his grey eyes. They lasered in on her when she entered the room, and became downright cold when she approached his desk.
“I know who you are,” he said, ignoring her outstretched hand. “My question is what are you doing here?”
“Oh,” she said, scrambling to reset. “You know who I am? Do we—I mean, did we know each other?”
Something flashed in his cold grey eyes. “Are you attempting to make fun of me? Is this a joke?”
“No,” Layla said. She lowered her hand. “I had an accident. Maybe you knew or heard about it. I fell down some stairs and ended up in a two-day coma. But when I woke up, I’d lost a year.”
“A year,” he repeated, suspicion lacing his voice.
“Yes, my entire time in Pittsburgh—I don’t remember anything.” She rushed into an explanation. “All I know is I moved here from New Orleans to attend college before I had my accident. But when I woke up from the coma, I didn’t remember any of it. My dad moved me back to New Orleans, and after years of physical therapy, I ended up going to school in Dallas to become a physical therapist myself. But now I’m back, and I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you.”
She wrung her hands together. “In fact, I’m trying to figure out how we would have even come in contact. And why did you give my father money? Was it a loan?”
He leaned forward and stared at her so hard Layla felt like he was running an unseen lie detector scan over her. “You’re serious,” he said. “You don’t remember me or anything that happened while you were here?”
“I tried to ask my father, but he just kept saying it was better that I didn’t remember. He died a few months ago.”
Layla paused, waiting for him to extend his condolences but he said nothing. “I suppose you two weren’t friends, then.”
“No, we weren’t friends.”
Layla hated this, hated being at such a disadvantage. She kept asking questions, but his answers only confused her more. Plus, the way he was looking at her set something akin to terror off in her heart. Run! her primitive instincts screamed at her, but another part of her insisted she get her answers no matter how much he scared her.
“Did we know each other?” she asked again.
“What do you want?” he asked. “Why are you here?”
With trembling fingers she pulled the receipt out of her purse. “I found this,” she said, forcing herself to hand him the piece of paper.
He snatched it, looked at it, looked back at her, then tossed it on the desk. “Yes, and…?”
His officiousness began to annoy Layla and her fear ebbed away, replaced by anger. “You know, you don’t have to act so hostile,” she said. “I’m just trying to figure this all out.”
More fists pounded on the office door. This time a male voice called out, “Security! Open the door! Mr. Sinclair, are you all right?”
Nathan Sinclair stared at her for a few hard beats, then surprised her by calling back, “Yes, I’m fine. Go away!”