Page 17 of Broken Brothers

It seemed like she wanted me to do something or say something. The words hung in the air without her adding anything else, like she expected me to fill the void. I wanted to—oh, yes, I most certainly wanted todosomething—but not here, not in this office environment. That was too risky even for me, and I was willing to do some stupid shit for pussy.

“Well hey, you’re here for business, right?” I said. “We shouldn’t be discussing something like this out in the open. Why don’t we go talk about it at Jimmy’s right down the road?”

Layla’s smile gave me the only answer I needed. I didn’t even wait for her to verbally respond, walking forward and daring to place my hand on the small of her back as I escorted her to the door. She did not fight it.

In fact, maybe I was reading into it or trying to feel things that had not actually happened, but I could have sworn she gave a shiver of excitement.

“So I take it you would want to forge your own path as well, Layla?” I said, feeling much looser underneath the noon-time sun and absent clouds.

“Ehh, sometimes,” she said, shrugging. “I like my Dad’s company. It’s treated me well. So I’m not in a rush. But Iwould imagine that when I take over, I would do some things differently than my Dad.”

“So you don’t want to forge your own path,” I said with a teasing smile.

Layla shoved me gently as I laughed. I felt ridiculous, like I was back on the middle school playground flirting with Sarah, but what was I supposed to do, bury the feeling for the sake of business?

Uh, yes, Chance. This is your shot. Are you gonna let your dick dictate what you do and ruin this for you?

“I do want to forge my own path, but that path can still remain in the same park as my father, you know.”

I had so many smartass remarks to say, but in the interest of not quite wanting things to rush so quickly, I kept quiet. After a couple of seconds, I decided I had to steer the conversation to safer ground, at least temporarily.

Between that moment and when we got our burgers in the private room at Jimmy’s, I mostly asked about her educational and career background. The topics could not have been safer and more professional. She was a graduate of Princeton from just two years before at just the age of 20, making her the same age as me. She had worked for her Dad officially for the last two years but had unofficially shadowed him and learned from him for many years before.

She may have wanted to blaze her own path, but it sure seemed to overlap quite a bit with her father’s.

Somehow, though, despite the topics being safe, everything else around our lunch did not. For example, her skirt seemed hiked up just a bit further than normal. I saw more of Layla’s thigh than a man at a gym might, and to say it send my mind scrambling would be an understatement. I fought like hell to remain focused, and I didn’t do a terrible job… but the factthat I had to do a job of any kind spoke to my infatuation and attraction to her.

Second, she had very little shame in touching me and laughing at my jokes. Hands went on the arm, the elbow, even the thigh at one point. The heat was picking up, and I was doing a poor job of fanning the flames.

When we had had our meeting just a few days prior, I had found her incredibly attractive, but it felt like looking at a woman from across the street—I had admired her beauty and even remembered it a few days later, but I had no belief I would ever get to act on that ever again. It was just too remote a possibility. Even if I saw Layla again, most of my interactions would be with her father, with her silently observing and learning.

How glad I was to be wrong.

We made our way back to the office and I took her to my private room. I shut the door and she sat on the desk. I had a private office, so no one would be able to see anything… and oh God how tempting things were… the way she crossed her legs…

No, Chance! You will be good. What if she’s flirting like this for a reason?

That she likes you?

Well, yes, that seems to be the case. But just keep your head on your shoulders, damnit.

“So, what was it you wanted to run over to me?” I said, jolting back to what she had originally come here for.

“Oh, right,” she said, clearly having forgotten that she needed to do that. She rummaged through a briefcase that she placed on my desk, grabbing some papers and handing them to me. “This is some due diligence that Burnson Investments should evaluate, just for legal purposes. I don’t think it’ll be anything alarming or even unusual, but we’ll get in trouble if you don’t look at it.”

“Gotcha,” I said, not thinking much of it.

As she slid the files to me, we suddenly found ourselves standing extraordinarily close. So close, in fact, that if she leaned her chest or hips forward, she would be touching me.

“Well, Layla, do you need anything else?” I said.

I spoke calmly, but boy I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t close to sweating a bit.

“I don’t think so,” she said, her voice a little low. “Do you?”

I looked over at the door. It was shut. No one would ever know…

I looked at the lock. It wasn’t locked, but no one ever came in without knocking. Even Mr. Burnson knocked before entering. It would take the building catching fire for someone to barge in without knocking.