Chapter 140 A Sensation Like Never Before
Layla's ears were her most sensitive spot—Samuel just had to get close or breathe on her to send her trembling and tingling all over as if electrified. Now that he was kissing her directly, she melted away like water, utterly defenseless.
She shrank her neck, wishing she could tuck her entire ear into her shoulder.
"Hey, stop... stop it..." she stammered, head tilted as she shivered, "I have a fever."
"Feeling the fever now?" Samuel chuckled softly, the sound tinged with reluctant goodbyes as he finally let go of her and ceased his playful teasing. "Told you to get some rest, but you just had to be stubborn, thinking all sorts of nonsense, asking all sorts of odd questions."
"I'm going to sleep now, I promise," Layla replied obediently, as if afraid he might do something else, and closed her eyes. Her long eyelashes rested on her eyelids, a picture of innocence.
After a while, Samuel began to hear the steady rhythm of her breathing.
But even in sleep, it wasn't long before she murmured anxiously, "I... I'm not the other woman... don't hit me... I didn't steal anyone's man..." Layla flailed with her sweat-dampened hands.
Samuel took her hand in his as she clutched his shirt. Her eyes, glistening with unshed tears, met his in a hazy, anxious gaze. "I'm not the other woman..." she mumbled once more before her eyes fluttered closed once again.
She still harbored a sense of guilt. Samuel sighed. No matter how much he explained, she couldn't let go of this insecurity. The only solution that would truly ease her pain was marriage—to become Mrs. Holland in every legal and emotional sense. It was time to prioritize their wedding.
A thought stirred in Samuel's heart.
Women crave a romantic proposal, especially one as young as Layla. She'd probably love it.
An idea took shape in Samuel's mind.
...
Layla's was just running a mild fever, which subsided after a night of sweating.
She rested well in the morning, had some food, and in the afternoon, Samuel's secretary drove her to the construction site.
On the way, Layla mentally pep-talked herself, murmuring, "I need to say it today, clear things up. You're not the other woman, Layla. You can do this..."
"Miss Adkins, we're here. Should I wait for you?" the driver asked.
"No, you go on back. I'll catch a cab later," Layla said as she got out of the car.
At the entrance, she took a deep breath, her eyes hardening with determination.
But as Layla walked in, she didn't find Nora. Instead, she was greeted by Brenda, the dignified woman she had met before.
Seeing her again, Layla instantly felt a mixture of familiarity and resistance.
She paused, then nodded politely, "Mrs. Eilish."
Brenda turned around, startled for a second upon seeing her, but quickly offered a gentle, aristocratic smile, "Hello, Miss Adkins."
Both women were trying their best to maintain an air of normalcy.
"Isn't Nora coming today?"
"Yes, we had planned to come together, but something came up for her, so I came alone," Brenda couldn't help but take a few more glances at Layla. The more she looked, the more Layla's eyes resembled her own daughter, whom she had left behind all those years ago.
Brenda's feelings were a complex tangle, but she masked them flawlessly. She reassured herself that she was just being overly anxious. There was no way Layla could be her daughter.
"Got the designs with you?" Brenda inquired.
"Not yet, I came by mainly to check out the site today." Layla used that as an excuse. She had a hunch that this project would fall through, so she hadn't started sketching yet.
"I see." Brenda didn't press further.
They did a walkthrough, during which Layla measured a few dimensions for the sake of appearance and took some notes.
"Miss Adkins."
As they parted at the door, Brenda couldn't help but ask, "Would you like to... grab a coffee together?"
Layla couldn't think of a reason to decline, so she nodded in agreement.
...
At the café, by the window seat.
A steamy latte sat before Brenda, while Layla opted for a freshly squeezed carrot juice.
They sat in silence for a good thirty seconds.
"How old are you this year, Miss Adkins?" Brenda initiated the conversation.
"Twenty-one."
Twenty-one. Brenda's heart did a little flip. Layla was the same age as her daughter.
"Are you from around here?"
"I was born in City B, moved to City A when I was three."
A tighter look crossed Brenda's face. She had also lived in City B, and her daughter was born there.
Too many coincidences.
"Do you have any siblings?"
"Yeah, I've got a brother and a sister."
"I see..." Brenda breathed a little easier. Maybe she was just overthinking it. Yet, she couldn't shake off her concern entirely.
She couldn't explain why, but Layla's demeanor disquieted her—not a sense of warmth but an inexplicable tension. Lately, she was haunted by dreams more frequently, dreams of her two-year-old daughter clinging to her, pleading not to be left behind.
Each time she woke, her chest felt tight and heavy.
"So... what does your father do?"
Layla found Brenda's questions a bit imposing, but maybe older folks enjoyed such chats? She answered, "My dad, he runs a martial..."
"Mom."
A young man draped in a grey sweater, crisp white shirt, exuding an aristocratic elegance, walked in. His handsome features and refined poise presented a spring breeze charm that captivated every woman in the room.
"You, aren't you the one..." Layla looked at him in delighted surprise, "Yesterday, when it rained, I flagged down your car. Do you remember?"
"Miss Layla?"
"Uh-huh, that's me."
"Do you two know each other?" Brenda inquired.
"Yeah, he helped me out yesterday. You're Anthony, the top security guy for the Eilish family, right?" Layla marveled at the small world they lived in.
"That's me." Anthony nodded in confirmation.
Brenda introduced the young woman beside her, saying, "This is Miss Adkins, the talented designer Nora has been raving about."
"Ah." Anthony had heard of her, but didn't expect her to be so young. If Nora, with her impeccable taste, recommended her, she must be exceptional.
Anthony's expression remained cool and collected, a perfect poker face. Yet, a ripple of pleasant surprise fluttered in his heart.
He hadn't expected to see her again, so this chance encounter was a delightful turn of events, albeit too brief for his liking.
"Your father has arrived, let's go," Brenda said, linking her arm through Anthony's. "Miss Adkins, take care."
"Goodbye, Mrs. Eilish, Anthony," Layla offered with a sweet smile. Her gratitude towards Anthony was evident, and his genteel charm made him effortlessly likable.
"The car's ready, ma'am," said the chauffeur respectfully, holding the door open for them.
"I left my scarf behind." Brenda suddenly remembered.
"Please get in, I'll fetch it," Anthony promptly turned and headed back into the store, only to be met by Layla hurrying after them.
"Mrs. Eilish’s scarf," she said, holding up the Louis Vuitton silk piece, and then stumbled precariously as she approached.
"Careful," Anthony reached out to steady her, catching her in his arms as she almost fell. A chill of fear swept over both of them. Layla, still catching her breath, looked up at Anthony with immense relief. "Thank you..."
They were still an arm's length apart. If not for his quick reflexes, one couldn’t bear thinking about the consequences.
When she had fallen into his arms, Anthony's heart skipped a beat, pulsing with an intensity he hadn't felt before. It was as though a bolt of electricity shot from his fingertips straight to the base of his skull.
He had never felt anything quite like it before!
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