Laya studied her gel nail. She’d just got a fill, but she felt like the one on her right index finger was loose or lifting or something. She was going to have to book an appointment to go back.
“I don’t know. Why? Just because we’re an hour away from my parent’s house doesn’t mean that anything is going to happen to my car.”
“Don’t be surprised if you come back and find all your windows smashed out. You did take your valuables out of the car, didn’t you?”
“I left my sunglasses, maybe.”
“Which probably cost what? Five hundred dollars? If you leave so much as a quarter in the dash in this neighborhood, someone is going to break in and steal it.”
“It’s going to be in the shop the whole time. Relax.”
“Relax? Have you looked around?”
“So it’s an up and coming neighborhood.” Laya shrugged again. “Mom does lots of charity work around here. So does Sarah. Her car broke down a few blocks over when she was helping out at the school. She collected old laptops from local businesses for the kids. Isn’t that great?”
“Sure.”
“Anyway, that’s why she knew of the shop. I needed a place. I hit a hole way too hard and I think it wrecked something. It’s not driving right. The steering is all over the place.”
“That’s because your car is designed for the track or the show room and not much else.”
“I know you’re jealous. You drool all over it every single time I bring it out.”
“If I could afford one, I’ll be honest enough to say that I would drive it.” Mark shot her an ironic grin. “Anyway, I still don’t think this was a good idea. You should have let your dad find you a shop.”
“Dad is super busy right now with some big cases and mom is clueless. I thought I could do it myself. It’s going to be okay. Anyway, let’s talk about something that matters. Do you have any appointments booked for me this week?”
“You mean anything new since last night when you asked me?”
Laya rolled her eyes. “Yes, I guess that’s what I mean.”
Mark took his eyes off the wheel long enough to flash her another grin. He wasn’t an attractive man, as far as what most people considered attractive. His hair was dark and shaggy, almost unkempt though it wasn’t matted or knotted. He actually was one of the few men who wore a mustache well. His dark eyes were set too far into a strong brow, giving him a brooding look even though he was one of the happiest people Laya knew. He wasn’t short and he wasn’t tall, just somewhere in the middle. Some people would say he had the kind of body type that was the traditional ‘dad bod’, the kind that was always just a little overweight though he ate right and exercised regularly and tried to take care of himself.
Laya actually was friends with Belle, Mark’s wife, before she ever reconnected with Mark. She remembered him from high school, but he was a couple years older than she was. It was Belle who Laya had always stayed in touch with. She never really knew Mark all that well, until she mentioned to Belle that she was thinking about giving a modeling agency a try. Belle told her that Mark was an agent, mostly for musicians, but he had some experience working with models before he quit that and gave the music industry a try. He’d come by it honestly. He was raised by his dad, who was an agent and active in the music industry before he retired.
Laya figured she’d do a favor by doing Mark a favor, but she found he was actually pretty good at getting her jobs.
“I actually have a job lined up for you for next week. It’s just a hand thing.”
Great. I’ll have to make sure I get this nail taken care of before then. “That’s boring.”
“It might be boring, but it’s still a job. They can’t all be fun ones.” Mark sped up and made it through an intersection right before the light turned yellow. He had an uncanny knack for being able to navigate through even the thickest of traffic.
“I was hoping for something where I’d at least get some pretty clothes out of the deal.”
“You probably have a closet bursting with clothes. Take the job. They’re paying five hundred dollars for half an hour.” Without missing a beat, Mark crossed three lanes of traffic and made a right hand turn.
“Well that’s my rate isn’t it?”
“Not everyone is willing to pay it. You might have a pretty strong social media presence, but as far as models go, you’re still in the up and coming territory.”
“I know. I’m twenty-four, time is running out. If I want to make a go at this, I can’t be choosy.”
“I never said that. You have that classic look. It will probably last until you’re forty so you have time.” He sped on, heading towards their exit.
Not if my parents have anything to say about it.
She hadn’t told Mark that her dad had given her an ultimatum. She had another year to try and make something of modeling before he made it mandatory that she go into college and get an education she could actually use. He was annoyed that she hadn’t gone for more than half a year before she dropped out, since she hated being in business.
She didn’t dare ask her dad how he was going to enforce his threat of an education. Probably kick her out of the house or try. Cut off her allowance? She could always sell her car, though it was still in his name. If she was realistic, she’d be hard pressed to part with it.
Her career wasn’t coming along as fast as she wanted it to. She knew she couldn’t just ride her parent’s name into the sunset forever. She wanted to do something meaningful with her life. She couldn’t just sit around the house all day and she couldn’t make a career out of volunteering. She wasn’t going to be one of those trophy wives who spent the rest of their life shopping and getting her nails done. She wanted to make a difference. She just wasn’t sure how to do that.
“I have a secret,” she confessed.
“Oh?” Mark raised a brow.
“I wish I could really be designing clothes. That’s why I like the clothing jobs, especially the haute couture stuff. It’s like art. I wish that it could be my life. I used to doodle all the time in my sketchbooks. My parents would be so disappointed if they found out that’s what I wanted to do for a living. My dad made me go into business before, but I hated it. I like the creativity of modeling and I know I would never be able to get into the fashion industry. I wouldn’t even try.”
“Well, then, this better work out. Don’t worry. The jobs will start rolling in soon enough. We’ve only been at this for the past two years. You’re getting more and more jobs all the time.”
“Yes. Thank you for all the work you’ve done. And Belle too. It means a lot to me. I know you’re busy with your family and your other job. I’ll take the hand job.”
“That just sounds wrong.”
She laughed at herself a second later, when she realized what Mark was saying. “You’re right. It does sound bad.”
“I just hope your car doesn’t end up in a wreck. You need some kind of transportation to get to all these jobs I’m going to get for you.”
Laya kicked off her high heels and relaxed. It was still quite a hike to her parent’s house. She might as well sit back and enjoy it.
“You worry too much, Mark. My car is going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine.” She just hoped that it was true and everything worked out. She knew what the alternative was and she couldn’t take another economics class to save her soul.
Chapter 3
Getting Even
Laya
After three days spent worrying about her baby, despite what she’d told Mark, Laya was relieved to get a ride back to the shop. This time her mother dropped her off. Laya climbed out of the car and waved goodbye, assuring her mom she’d be just fine. Helena cast a worried look around, as she had almost the entire drive.
“I’ll be fine, really.”
Helena finally nodded. “Alright. Well, you know I have my cell on if you need me.”
“I won’t need you, mom. Now go on, before you’re late for that speec
h you have to give.”
“It’s not a speech. It’s a talk on how providing breakfast programs at schools really do make a noticeable difference.”
“Right. Well, I don’t want you to be late. You’ve been working on it for two weeks. I’ll be fine.” Laya blew her mom a kiss. It was childish, she knew, but she followed it up with a large smile. Finally Helena waved and drove off.
It was a little ironic how her mother spent most of her days volunteering in way worse areas, but when it came to dropping her daughter off for five minutes, all of a sudden Helena was worried that some kind of crisis was going to occur. I guess that’s part of being a mother.
Laya didn’t see her car in front. She was about to head into the office, since that was the most logical place to go, when she heard voices drifting out from the garage. All the doors were closed except for the far one on the right and the sound traveled from there.
“Miss Plastic is back guys.”
“Take a look at those shoes.”
“Take a look at those legs!”
“Take a look at those tits.”
Instead of covering herself up and running for the office, Laya stood her ground. She waited, sure that the guys on the inside had no idea she could hear them. She pretended to glance around, as though her ride was coming back or maybe like her car would magically appear.
The ribald comments went right on. If she had a better sense of humor, maybe she would have found it all quite entertaining.
“How much money do you think her daddy makes?”
“Maybe it’s her husband. She must give pretty damn good blow jobs to get a car like that.”
“She looks too young for a husband. It’s definitely her daddy who is loaded. Bet she’s an only child. His princess. He probably bought her that car for her sixteenth birthday and let her drive it to high school to make all the other rich brats there jealous.”
“She only brought it here to prove to us just how much lower we are. Her majesty coming to visit the peasantry.”
“No matter how rich she is, she probably lays the same. I bet she wouldn’t even be a good fuck. Probably just lays there and gets pounded on and does nothing to make the experience enjoyable. Look at her face. She’s clearly never had an orgasm in her life.”
Laya’s cheeks flamed hot. She couldn’t believe the nerve those guys had. Even worse, what the last guy had said hit pretty close to the truth. She pivoted towards the street so that they couldn’t see her blushing. It would be a dead giveaway that their comments had been overheard.
“I doubt it. Her pussy is probably like silk. She probably goes for one of those expensive Brazilian waxes every other week. I bet she’s tight. Real tight. And her breasts are real. I can tell today. She’d have any man hard as a fucking rock within a minute and we all know it.”
Well, that was slightly more complimentary, but she still couldn’t believe a group of men would actually gather around and say those things about her. About anyone. If they were doing it to her, they probably did it to other people, which was just wrong. They should be stopped. Something should be said.
Determined to stand up for herself, Laya whirled and took a few faltering steps forward. Her heels scraped across the dusty, broken asphalt of the shop’s parking lot. She was careful not to break one of her five inch spindly heels or to trip and fall on her face. Wouldn’t that just be the ultimate reward for those guys inside? It would be the ultimate humiliation, that was for sure.
She didn’t stop until she’d walked right up to the open door. She could hear the scattering of footfalls inside, heavy boots rushing over concrete floors. The clank and bang of tools being picked back up was obvious, even before she could see inside.
The door was only open halfway, to about chest height. She ducked below and took a step, aware that it was a completely mortifying position to put herself in when she was wearing a short red sundress and five inch stilettos, but she was careful and sure she flashed nothing of her black lace panties below.
“Hello?” She was sure that her cheeks were flushed bright red as she straightened inside the garage. It was lit by a few overhead lights and after the bright sunlight of outdoors, it took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dimness. The shop smelled just like she thought it would. A shop. It smelled like oil and welders and tools and sweat.
Oddly enough, she liked it. She’d always liked the scent, ever since she’d taken shop class in high school. Wouldn’t they just find it funny to realize I actually know how to weld. Sort of.
One of the guys noticed her and spun. She was momentarily stunned and nearly took a step back. Thankfully she recovered herself immediately and she didn’t find herself gaping in awe at the guy.
He was perfect. Flawless. Tall and broad. An incredible amount of muscle rippled underneath a tight fitting black t-shirt that clung to him. It was far too tight and the fact that it was damp with sweat only outlined the rock hard ridges beneath. He filled out his stained jeans unmercifully well.
His features were pulled into an expression she couldn’t read, but the angular beauty of them was glaring. He was all hard planes and rough angles, chiseled, cut… It was his eyes that were truly striking. They were the most glorious blue. His hair was blond, the sandy kind, but the sun had lightened strands here and there and they stood out. He had it pulled back at his neck. It was messy and knotted in spots and most of it escaped the elastic, but that was the entire allure of it.
She glanced back down at the t-shirt, carefully training her eyes away from his face, but all she could imagine was the feel of that fabric under her fingertips as she ripped it off and exposed all that bronzed skin and muscle beneath. Shockingly, a burst of saliva flooded her mouth.
The guy’s blue eyes darkened dangerously when she ripped her eyes away and returned them boldly to his face. His far too full lips twisted into a knowing sneer.
“What can I help you with?”
She recognized the voice as the one who had said the worst of it. The parts about her breasts being real and her daddy being the one to have the money and her pussy being smooth as silk. Even repeating those filthy words in her mind made her blush madly. No amount of trying to compose herself could banish the heat from her cheeks.
This guy is a vulgar asshole. There is no way I should find anything about him attractive. She was annoyed with herself for even noticing, but then again, she couldn’t help that she had eyes and he looked- well- he looked good.
“I… I came to pick up my car. I got a call that it was done.” Her voice sounded squeaky, forced, not at all normal.
The guy’s eyes narrowed. He was too beautiful to be human. He was easily the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her entire life, and that was when he was covered in sweat and grime. What would he look like cleaned up? She couldn’t let her mind go there, but she was sure that whatever he chose to wear, he’d slay hearts in his wake without even lifting so much as a finger.
“Oh. Yes.” The guy’s eyes raked brazenly over her figure and a wave of disconcerting heat swelled up in her chest, tightening her lungs and kicking her heart rate into overdrive. She struggled to regain a shred of composure. “It’s parked in the back. If you go to the office, our manager would be happy to assist you with the bill.” He smirked again, like he knew they were going to charge her out the ass, just because she obviously had the money to pay.
Laya bit back a few choice words of her own. “Thanks.” She’d love to give the guy a piece of her mind, but she was afraid it would only make her look worse. The bastard was probably full of witty comebacks and she didn’t even want to try and risk the utter humiliation.
“No, the pleasure is all mine.” The way he looked at her, directly at her breasts and then swiveled his eyes lower, right below her waist, made it completely obvious that he wasn’t talking about cars and shops and repairs.
That smug motherfucker. She was a little shocked at her choice of thoughts. She hardly ever swore. She didn’t even think in expletives
, but the word seemed apt. Only the worst for the worst.
Laya glared back, refusing to let him see how he’d rattled her. “Enjoy your day. Thanks for your help.” The way she emphasized the last word left little doubt as to just how unhelpful the guy had been.
He had the nerve to nod at her. And smile. He shot her the most charming, disarming, bone melting, heart accelerating smile that she’d ever seen in her life. And god help her, it worked. Her insides turned to liquid and a swarm of butterflies flew up her throat. Her pulse jumped at her neck so violently she could actually hear it as well as feel it.
She gave her head a shake and quickly whirled. She nearly ran into the half closed door before she remembered to duck. She slammed her eye shut, relieved that she hadn’t laid herself out flat on the shop floor. She just imagined how those guys would laugh at her if she had. She’d probably be the inspiration for their jokes long after the incident.
It was clear that the blond haired god… no, the blond haired motherfucker was their ringleader. Without his nasty influence, the other guys probably would have just had a good hard stare and got on with their day.
When it came right down to it, Laya was a nice person. She never wanted to purposely get people into trouble. She wasn’t cruel or mean. She’d been raised well and taught to care about people with a genuine heart. Her mother made volunteering her entire life and she was often right there with her, helping. Everyone said she was far too compassionate and empathetic for her own good. She was the token ‘nice’ girl.
Nice girls finish last. It was the damn truth.
Laya squared her shoulders and marched proudly into the office. There was no way she was going to let that brute walk all over her. He needed to be taken down a couple notches. Other clients, female clients, should be saved from the guy’s horrible opinions. He either thought he was a cut above the rest of the entire world or he hated women. Probably both. He was one of those guys, who though he didn’t look he’d led an entitled life, somehow came to believe they were literally a gift to the rest of the world. She knew he was the kind of guy who knew he turned women inside out.
Forbidden Soulmates_A Steamy Hot Revenge Romance Page 2
