The Owner of His Heart

CHAPTER EIGHT





THREE days after unwittingly having sex with a married man in his office and two back-to-back remote physical therapy appointments on the other side of town, the 61C bus dropped Layla off on Murray Avenue. She lived about a fifteen-minute walk away from the bus stop and she usually relished the time it took her to get home. Squirrel Hill was a clean and peaceful neighborhood, populated mostly with Orthodox Jewish families and students from two nearby colleges. She felt safe there, even when walking home in the dark.

But that night the eight-block walk was a miserable slog. The summer night air felt hot and sticky on her skin, and she couldn’t help but think of the last time she had been hot and sticky, in Nathan Sinclair’s office with her back pressed up to one of his cold windows. An embarrassing wave of lust washed over her as she remembered what she had done. Embarrassing because she’d prefer to feel nothing but guilt where Nathan Sinclair was concerned. But when she thought about the way his chest had rubbed against her breasts as he pounded into her creaming slit, her breasts betrayed her better intentions by swelling underneath her scrubs.

What was wrong with her? The man had a wife for goodness sake. And no matter how wanton she had acted in his office, she knew she never would have had sex with him if she had known he was married. The sex had been good—better than good. Okay, it was maybe the best sex she’d ever had in her entire life. But it wasn’t good enough for her to abandon her general principles.

As she got closer to her apartment building, she noticed a low slung Maserati, parked about two doors down from where she lived. She wondered who the ostentatious car belonged to. It didn’t look like the kind of vehicle a college kid would drive, though she was aware a few of them had mommies and daddies who could afford to give their darlings a car that cost that much. Her thoughts drifted to Nathan Sinclair yet again. Yeah, this seemed exactly like the kind of car someone like him would drive.

Then as if her thoughts had conjured him out of thin air, his voice said, “It’s about time you got here. I thought I made it clear to you on Friday, I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

She’d been so busy wondering about the car she hadn’t noticed its probable owner, Nathan Sinclair. He seemed so out of place in his designer suit, sitting on the steps of her humble two-floor apartment building, holding a large brown envelope, that she nearly laughed. But then she remembered he was a low down cheating scoundrel and the smile died on her lips.

She decided to not to give him the dignity of a response and tried to rush past without speaking.

But he came to his feet and his free hand snaked out to catch her arm before she could get past him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

That electricity zapped her again when he took hold of her arm, but this time, Layla ignored it, picturing his lovely blond wife instead.


“Inside to my apartment,” she answered. “I’ve had a long day and I’m really tired.”

“I don’t care,” he said. “I think you owe me an explanation for your disappearing act.”

She squared her shoulders and glared at him. “The only person I owe an explanation is your wife.”

He screwed up his face. “I don’t have a wife.”

Layla’s mouth dropped open in offended surprise. The gall of him. “Where do you get off doing it with me then lying about being married?”

“I’m not married.”

“I saw your wedding picture on your desk. It was at eye-level.” She yanked her arm back from him. “Do not lie to me.”

The look on his face switched from angry to bemused. “You really don’t remember anything about me, do you?” he said. “That picture on my desk was from my brother’s wedding.”

Layla blinked, now confused herself. “No, he looked exactly like you.”

“Yes, because we’re identical twins. But you always used to say the only thing we had in common was our faces. Here I’ll show you.”

He pulled out his smartphone and tapped on it with his thumbs until he found what he was looking for. Then he held it up to show her a picture of him standing with a man that looked just like him. They were both dressed in tuxedoes, but the man standing beside Nathan had a much more conservative haircut. Now he was what Layla expected a CEO to look like.

She covered her mouth. “Oh.”

“Oh,’” he repeated. “I came out of my bathroom. You were gone without a trace. And then this morning I get a FedEx package with a check and no explanation for your disappearance whatsoever. And ‘Oh,’ is all you have to say?”

Layla folded and unfolded her arms. “I’m not sure what else I should say. I mean, yeah, I made a mistake. But maybe it was for the greater good, because I hate to point this out, but having sex with you probably wasn’t one of my brightest ideas.” She ticked it off on her fingers. “You’re insulting, you’re aggravating, and you don’t seem to like me very much. I usually prefer to engage with people who actually care about me.”

The shadow of a smile passed over his lips.

“What?” she said.

“Nothing, it’s just that you said something similar back when we knew each other before.”

“Care to fill me in on that?”

He actually seemed to think about it before saying, “No, I don’t think so.”

She threw up her hands. “Whatever. I’m done with this. The next installment will come in the mail.” She walked up the rest of the stairs to the front door.

“I told you, the deal is off,” he said behind her.

She turned on him with vicious determination. “Listen, rich boy. I sold my car to pay you back that money. I have been working my fingers to the bone to pay you back that money. I don’t care what you do with the checks, but I’m going to keep on sending them to you until I’ve paid off this godforsaken debt. So the deal is not off.”

That declared, she pulled out her house key, but before she could get it into the lock, he grabbed her hand. “That deal is off the table, but I have a new one for you. A much easier one.”

He held up the brown envelope. “Do you want to go inside to talk about it?”

“No,” she said. An image of him doing what he did to her last night, but this time on a bed, flashed through her mind. The truth was she didn’t trust herself to keep her defenses up if she let him inside her apartment. “You can explain it to me here.”

“Fine,” he said, handing her the envelope. “I don’t want you here, and I’m willing to pay to make that a reality. This contract states that you’ll leave the state within two months of its execution. In return, the money you owe my family will be considered null and void. We’ll also provide you with a generous moving stipend and assist you in finding a job in another city of your choosing.”

Layla’s mouth dropped open again as she flipped through the contract. “Anywhere of my choosing?” she said.

“Anywhere but Pennsylvania.”

She looked at the contract then back up at him in stunned disbelief. “Seriously, what did I do to you?”

“There’s no reason for you to stay here,” he said in lieu of answering her question. “You don’t have any ties to the community, and you haven’t been through a Pittsburgh winter yet, but trust me, I’m doing you a favor. It’s cold. And grey.”

Kind of like you, she thought as she continued to scan the contract, which was exactly what he’d said, a deal contingent upon her leaving the city and not coming back for a specified period of seventy years. “I can’t leave,” she said. “Not until I know why you want me gone so bad.”

“I don’t want to live in the same city as you, and I’m very rich, so I can make that happen. That’s all you need to know. Also, this deal is only on the table for twenty-four hours, so you’ll need to make your decision sooner than later.”

“I don’t need twenty-four hours to make this decision.” Layla put the contract back in its brown envelope, and held it out to him. “Sorry, but I can’t sign this.”

“You can,” he said.

“No, I came to Pittsburgh for answers. You obviously have those answers. So if you really want me to leave, give them to me. Otherwise, take your draconian contract and go home, please. Like I’ve said, I’ve had a really long day.”

He just stood there, jaw clenched, refusing to take the contract back from her. So she dropped the brown envelope on the ground and walked away.

***



Nathan watched her go, fighting the temptation to run after her. Part of him was angry she hadn’t accepted the terms of his contract, another part of him wanted her to invite him in to finish what they’d started on Friday, and a smaller part of him felt vindicated. She could act as sweet and innocent as she wanted, but the Layla he’d known was still in there.

At that moment he wanted to push his hands up under her scrubs, to remove them himself this time while worshipping every curve with kisses, including the one in between her legs. But he was Nathan Sinclair. He didn’t and shouldn’t have to chase after women. Instead of following her inside, he picked up the contract and started back down the steps towards his car.

Still, he couldn’t resist one last look over his shoulder as he did so. However, what he saw through her apartment building’s glass doors stopped him in his tracks and made him turn back towards the building. On the other side of the lobby, he could see Layla standing outside her apartment door, both hands over her mouth as if she were trying to keep from screaming. Her eyes were wild with horror.

And as he came back up the steps, he saw why. Spray-painted in large red letters down the entire length of her apartment door was the word “LEAVE.”