The Owner of His Heart

by Taylor, Theodora

  “Maybe you two come from different classes, yes. But you’re both such gentle souls.”

  “Gentle?” Layla said, because that would be the last word she’d use to describe Nathan. He didn’t have a gentle bone in his body, but maybe he was a lot different back then.

  Her brain seized. Could it be possible that whatever she had done had made him this way? Was that why he’d been so adamant about her leaving town?

  “Though, I must say I’m surprised to see he’s broken up with Diana. I mean I heard they were having problems, but I didn’t know they had separated. Or are they already divorced? Heaven knows, you can push those through pretty fast if you have a tight pre-nup, which I imagine they did as much money as both their families are worth.”

  Then it became clear to Layla what was going on. “Oh, no, I think you’re confused. I’m not here with Andrew. I’m here with Nathan.”

  To Layla’s surprise, Jessica’s face went from happy to angry, complete with narrowed eyes. “What?” she said.

  “That’s who I was with in college, right? On our disastrous double date?” Layla asked, though the worst feeling was starting to steal over her.

  “No,” Jessica said. “I was with Nathan. You were with Andrew. From what I could tell, you and Nathan hated each other.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  SIX weeks ago, Nathan had hoped inviting Layla to stay with him would cure him of his infatuation with her. It had done the opposite. When he first proposed her staying with him for the two months before she had to move, he’d seen himself kicking her out after two weeks, a month tops. He’d figured he’d get sick of the adult version of Layla, like he’d gotten sick of all the other women before her, no matter how beautiful they were.

  But that hadn’t happened. In fact, given an inch, Layla had taken a mile. She’d yet to use the guest bathroom, insisting on using his, even going so far as to force him to share it with her, on the few days when he had to get to work early for a conference call with Japan or one of the other would-be global markets. Layla might seem like a pushover to everyone else, but he had serious problems cowing her anywhere outside of his bed. He’d always burned the midnight oil, but these days he went to bed earlier, because Layla had to be up in the morning for her shift. Not only had he’d decided to double Kate’s bonus at her behest, but also Lucynka’s who Layla insisted was still owed something due to the one time she’d caught them having sex. He’d taken to saying thank you, at first to stave off arguments with Layla, but over the course of the summer it had become a habit.

  Worse of all, he’d found himself enjoying his time with Layla for reasons outside of sex. He actually liked having her in his space, looked forward to coming home to her ever-smiling face. Before Layla he’d watched CNN and the Military Channel in the evenings, with a few episodes of Top Gear thrown in for fun. But over the course of the past two weeks, he’d started watching summer reruns of a few night time dramas Layla liked and had gotten caught up in the story lines himself.

  It had all grown very domestic, which made her leaving that much harder. He got angry just thinking about her moving on with her life, finding another boyfriend, maybe even marrying and having children. Sometimes when they were making love, it got so intense, he’d think to himself, “You’re mine, and I’m never going to let you go.” And he’d feel this so deeply, he’d come before he was ready, with the primal urge to spill his seed inside her, to put his baby inside of her, even though he knew she was on birth control. And even though he also knew she’d be leaving Pittsburgh soon at his behest.

  But things between them began to sour the night of the opera fundraiser. It all started when their conversation hit an awkward note just as they were about to leave the gala. He’d thought inviting her to the Sinclair Ball would fix it, and it had for a minute or two. But then she went to the bathroom and emerged over fifteen minutes later with fresh lipstick and a changed demeanor. Her smile had completely disappeared, and her gaze kept skittering all over the place, never quite landing to meet his.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked, already worried that it had taken her so long in the bathroom.

  She shook her head and said, “No, I just have a migraine. I took something, but it still hurts.”

  That night they went to sleep on opposite sides of the bed, with Layla claiming she was in too much pain to fall asleep in his arms as she normally did. And when he woke up she was gone. He found a note left on the refrigerator, explaining she needed to run a bunch of moving-related errands.

  Apparently these errands took up most of the day, because she called late Saturday night to say she was exhausted from packing all day and was just going to sleep at her apartment that night.

  “You can sleep over here,” he said.

  “I don’t get a lot of sleep when I’m over there,” she answered.

  “I’m not an animal. I can keep my hands off of you for two nights in a row. Now three, and we might have a problem.”

  This had been a joke, and he expected her to laugh, but she just said, “I really don’t feel like driving. I’m just going to stay here.”

  “I’ll send a car.”

  “Don’t. That’s too expensive.”

  Despite having been with him for six weeks, Layla still didn’t seem to grasp how rich he was, and that she didn’t have to worry about how expensive things were, because he could afford it. Buying her anything continued to be a battle. One he didn’t feel like waging with her at that moment.

  “Okay, then, I’ll come and get you.”

  “No, Nathan. That’s so far out of your way. Seriously, it’s okay. I can sleep here today and tomorrow.”

  “Today and tomorrow?” he said. “When did it become today and tomorrow?”

  “Well, I figured if I got everything out of the way now, then I’d have more time to spend with you before I go. But that means I really have to concentrate on getting everything done. No distractions.”

  He knew she was attempting to tease him with the last line, but he couldn’t laugh, because he was suddenly overcome with an unfamiliar urge to beg. He didn’t want her to take two nights off from their relationship—in fact, the thought of not seeing her until Monday made him heartsick. So as always, when she made him feel things he didn’t want to feel, he got angry.

  “Our agreement states that you’ll stay with me,” he said, deliberately making his voice cold and business-like. “That means wherever I am, you’re supposed to be.”

  A frosty silence came down the line. And just in case that hadn’t been enough to convince her, he said, “You promised, Layla. I thought you always kept your promises.”

  More silence. Then she said, “Fine” and hung up.

  He’d tried calling her back, but she didn’t answer. Twenty minutes later, he was just about to grab his keys and go over to her apartment himself, when she came through the front door, already dressed in her pajamas and looking as tired as she had claimed on the phone.

  “Layla,” he said, happier than he wanted to be to see her.

  But without even acknowledging his presence, she went to the bed, climbed in, and closed her eyes. She didn’t even respond when he got into bed himself and pulled her into his arms. But she didn’t push him away either, so he settled for this. A pissed off Layla, he decided, was better than no Layla at all.

  He’d thought they’d talk about what happened in the morning, but when he woke up she was gone again and this time she didn’t come home until after midnight, once again climbing into his bed without a word.

  “Layla, I’m not going to let you do this two nights in a row,” he said to her back, after getting into bed himself. “If you’re angry at me, tell me. I won’t put up with the silent treatment.”

  “What is there to say?” she asked, her back rigid. “I’m leaving in two weeks. I’m just trying to get ready for my contractually-obligated move.”

  He could feel resentment and anger radiating off of her, and even worse, he started to get ang
ry at himself for forcing this move, even though he had his reasons for demanding she leave Pittsburgh altogether.

  “I get that you want me when you want me, however you want me for a limited period of time, then you won’t want me anymore,” she said. “I get it. I do. But it makes me feel terrible inside. I’m sorry that sometimes I have a hard time acting like it doesn’t. I’m not a robot, like you.”

  He wanted to hold her. He wanted to tell her he would never get tired of her, because at that moment, as much as he didn’t want it to be true, he could feel it’s truth in his heart. He wanted to tell her he loved her, had been in love with her for ten years, even when he had thought he hated her. But every word, every action he considered was a Pandora’s box that couldn’t and shouldn’t be opened.

  So instead he stayed quiet. The next day when he woke up, she hadn’t disappeared like the two mornings prior. But somehow watching her get ready for work without a word was even worse. She usually played music or rattled on about her patients, the ones she was worried about, and the ones who were recovering faster than expected. For someone who was used to getting ready in solitary silence, her chatterbox ways should have been irritating, but he’d liked her stories, liked hearing about the ups and downs of her job, which was so different from his own.

  But that Monday morning it felt like he was dealing with the ghost of the woman he’d come to know. And by the time he made it to work, he was furious with both her and himself.

  He couldn’t help but think back to ten years ago, to the night that had changed everything.

  ***

  When Nathan had invited Layla over to the Sinclair mansion to help him choose a college, he’d only had a vague idea of what he’d do after she arrived. Yes, he wanted her in his bed, but he had no idea how to get her there. Usually, he didn’t have to do any work when it came to girls. If he saw one he liked, he said “Hello,” and then an appropriate amount of time later, “Where do you live?” which eventually led to sex. Sometimes he didn’t even have to go this far. Girls would just throw themselves at him, making any effort on his part moot.

  But Layla wasn’t like other girls. Although, they’d been getting along since the double date, she’d never given any indication she thought of him as anything more than her boyfriend’s twin brother. There’d been no sly looks behind Andrew’s back or even a hint of mild sexual interest. And sitting with her legs crisscrossed in the library’s large window seat, going over the brochures for the five schools that had accepted him for next fall, she’d actually seemed intent on helping him choose one.

  “I know you just got me over here for the company,” she said, after putting down the last brochure. “But I really think you should go with Yale. You’re probably leaning toward Harvard because your dad went there, but I think Harvard will only exacerbate your douchebag tendencies.”

  He laughed. “My douchebag tendencies? Wow, tell me what you really think.”

  “I am,” she said with a gentle pat on his knee. “Keep in mind, I didn’t suggest you should go the small Ivy liberal art college route, because you might need those douchebag tendencies later, and I don’t want them to beat that out of you. Yale seems like a happy medium: name recognition, but less cut-throat than Harvard. I think you could be happy there.”

  He grabbed the Yale packet and said, “Okay, Yale it is.”

  “What?” she said. “Just like that?”

  “I respect your opinion.”

  “You’re not serious,” she said, even as she watched him sign the acceptance letter and a few more forms before sliding them into the return envelope.

  “Completely serious,” he answered. “I’m going to put this in the mail tomorrow. Thanks for the advice.”

  “No, thank you,” she said. The giddy smile that broke out across her face just about stopped his heart. “No one’s ever trusted me with such a big decision before.”

  And then she hugged him, enveloping him in her warmth and curves, so he could barely think, much less keep himself from saying, “I love you.”

  She pulled back, her face going from smiling to confused. “What did you say?”

  “You’re beautiful,” he repeated, unable to stop himself now that he had started. “And I’m in love with you.”

  Layla let him go, un-crisscrossing her legs and turning away from him. She balled her hands in her lap and stared at them, obviously trying to think of a nice way to let him down.

  He, too, turned to face front, and he stared at his own hands folded in his lap as he said, “I know you belong to Andrew, but I love you, more than he does, more than anyone else ever could, and I had to tell you.”

  He waited for her to let him down easy. He’d never been let down easy before, but Layla seemed like the kind of girl who would be good at that: attracting the wrong kind of boy, then having to break his heart.

  But when she looked up, her eyes were glistening with tears. “I think I’m in love with you, too,” she whispered. “No, actually, I know I am. I’ve been fighting it so hard, because I didn’t want to hurt Andrew, but I don’t love him. I love you.”

  Nathan wasn’t sure who reached for who, but the next thing he knew, she was in his arms and they were kissing. And it was better than anything he had daydreamed. If not for the hard sexual need burning inside of him, he could have stayed there kissing her forever. But she was rubbing her body against his, and his body was also demanding more. He barely had time to sheath himself in the condom he kept in his wallet, before he’d pushed up her skirt and entered her. Sinking into her warmth felt like a dream come true. Not until she audibly winced with a sharp intake of air did he remember her virgin status.

  “Oh, shit, Layla, I’m sorry,” he said, freezing inside of her. He stroked a hand over her short hair and laid his forehead against hers. “If I had remembered, I never would have—” He stopped himself there, because he didn’t want to lie to her. As crazy as he was about her, nothing would have stopped him from making love to her. But now he found himself wishing he could have made her first time more romantic, or at least laid her down on a bed before mauling her.

  However, she interrupted his self-castigation with a whispered, “Nathan, I love you. I’m glad you’re the first. But could you please start moving again.”

  He happily accommodated her request, pumping into her with only slightly less abandon than before. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted her. All thoughts of Andrew disappeared from his head and so did the rest of the world as he braced himself against the edged of the curved window seat and moved inside of her. A sweet hurt built up inside his groin, begging for him to release. But he denied himself, desperate to please her, to show her he was a better choice than Andrew in every way, even if it didn’t seem so on the surface.

  “I love you,” he whispered, over and over again into her ear, until she finally climaxed for him.

  “Nathan!” she cried, clenching around him, drawing him even further in as they both came.

  Afterwards, they didn’t talk about what they had done, just straightened themselves out enough to look decent when they walked through the house to the one-bedroom guest cottage he occupied behind the mansion. He led her straight to his room, and this time they took their clothes off before making love again. Nathan could still remember how happy he’d felt as he fell asleep with her wrapped up in his arms, like he could accomplish anything and everything now, just because he’d won the heart of Layla Matthews.

  But the next morning he’d woken up to find her gone. At first he wondered if it had all been a dream. But no, there was his acceptance letter to Yale, sitting on his desk, packaged and waiting to go.

  It occurred to him Andrew was due back that morning and Layla might have taken off rather than risk getting caught cheating on him with his twin brother.

  Nathan should have felt more guilty about stealing his brother’s girlfriend, but the truth was, she had always been his, from the moment he met her. To Nathan’s way of thinking, his broth
er was partly to blame for meeting Layla first and taking something that didn’t truly belong to him.

  Knowing Layla, she was sitting in her dorm room at that moment trying to think of the best way to let her brother down. But Nathan already knew the best method would be to rip the band-aid off. It would be better for Nathan to tell it to his brother straight, without subjecting him to the embarrassment of Layla’s profuse apologies.

  So he went to the main house to do this, climbing the stairs to his brother’s suite. He could see the door was open, which meant he was already back from his trip.

  It occurred to Nathan at that point that maybe he shouldn’t go to Yale after all. He’d rather be here with Layla at Carnegie Mellon, than a six-hour drive away in Connecticut. But Layla probably wouldn’t go for it. With that misguided sense of honor she had, he could already hear her saying they shouldn’t rub their relationship in Andrew’s face—

  That’s when he saw them. Layla wrapped in Andrew’s arms as he kissed her with a passion Nathan hadn’t even known his staid brother possessed.

  First it felt like a punch in the gut. Then his heart cracked into a thousand pieces, leaving nothing behind but a black ball bitterness and hate.

  As if sensing him his presence in the doorway, they both looked up.

  “Nathan,” Layla said.

  But he didn’t stay. He refused to stand there while she let him down easy, explaining why she’d obviously chosen his brother over him. He walked away, ignoring Layla calling his name. Why had she told him she loved him? Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt so bad if she hadn’t lied to him, but he had believed her, and left himself unprotected. It felt like Layla had plunged a knife into his heart and he had just walked right into it like a total dupe.

  He stopped at the cottage to grab his passport and stuff a few clothes into an overnight bag. Fifteen hours later, he was in Ibiza partying his way through a stream of worldly and cynical European girls, vowing to never let another woman hook him the way Layla had. The pain didn’t go away, but after two weeks it lessened to the point that he felt he could face Layla and Andrew without doing them physical harm.