Behind the Curtain - Page 79

“God forbid we should keep him waiting,” he stated bitterly. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Good-bye, then,” she said softly.

He clamped his mouth shut tight. He refused to say it, denying her the clean breakup that she so clearly craved.

“What about the possibility that you’re pregnant?” he demanded harshly when she reached the door. “What are you going to do if you are?”

She turned to him slowly, her hand on the doorknob. The sadness on her face made him want to roar at the unfairness of life, to beat his fists until he’d pounded the world raw.

“I’m not pregnant. I started my period last night, after we took Mamma Sophia to the emergency room.”

He stood there, the soft click of the door shutting behind her resounding like an explosion in his head. He wasn’t sure how long he remained there, numb with disbelief.

Suddenly, anger sluiced through him. It galvanized him. He lunged toward the door, one clear target in mind. Crescent Bay wasn’t a big town. There were only three hotels in it. He’d find Eric. What better outlet for his fury? He’d beat that bastard to a pulp for betraying him . . . for putting the wheels in motion that led to the pain he was feeling right now.

Yeah, he’d promised Laila he’d leave Eric alone, Asher acknowledged bitterly as he sped out of the driveway a moment later. But Laila had turned and walked away, hadn’t she?

As far as Asher was concerned, all promises were null and void.

PART TWO

Chapter Eighteen

Present Day

As she unlocked the front door to their condo, the brief, graphic image of his face through the train doors flashed into Laila’s mind’s eye. The vivid blue eyes. The unmistakable determination.

Asher.

Here. In Chicago. It was too incredible to believe.

Once again, an electric charge passed through her at the memory. She shivered. The door swung open and she stepped into the foyer. She saw the flicker of the television in the distant, darkened living room. Her heart sank. Her roommate was awake.

“Laila?” Tahi yelled.

“What are you still doing up?” Laila called, straining to keep her voice even. She wished her cousin were in bed, like she usually was when Laila came home late from performing at the State Room. Once in a while, Tahi would attend her performance with a date. But she and Tahi had lived together in Chicago for the past five years now, ever since they’d both graduated from Wayne State. Laila had started singing publicly six months after their move, so the novelty of watching her cousin perform five nights a week had undoubtedly worn thin for Tahi.

“Michael got a new espresso machine, and he kept experimenting on me,” Tahi called from the living room. Laila knew Michael was the guy Tahi had been seeing for the past few weeks. He was a lawyer who had relocated to Chicago from San Francisco. Or was it Seattle? Tahi had left their first jobs out of college at Microsoft soon after Laila had, wooed away by a young, hip, skyrocketing tech firm. As the manager of that company, Tahi met a boatload of eligible guys. Laila got Tahi’s men mixed up as a matter of course.

“I have enough caffeine in me to keep me awake for a week.” Laila could tell by the sound of Tahi’s that voice she was walking toward her. She barely had enough time to try to wipe the anxiety off her face and appear nonchalant before the foyer light switched on.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tahi wondered with her usual sharp observance and blunt manner of speaking. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Laila refrained from rolling her eyes. So much for appearing calm and nonchalant. She pushed the hood off her head and unzipped her jacket.

“Nothing’s wrong. It was a busy night at the club.”

“It’s always busy. You’re a smash hit,” Tahi said frankly, her gaze narrowing on Laila’s appearance. “Did you take the train again?”

Laila laughed and hung up her hoodie. “You can tell by my clothes?”

“That, plus Rafe called earlier and wondered if you were home yet.”

Laila grimaced and walked past her cousin toward the kitchen. Rafe was Rafael Durand, the owner of the State Room and several other hot music venues on the East Coast and in the Midwest. He also had managed and promoted Laila exclusively for the past year. He was extremely good at what he did. Despite Laila’s firm resolve not to expose her face to her audience, Rafe had managed not only to make her live performances a hot ticket but to get her a valuable indie recording contract. He still regularly tried to talk her into moving out from behind the veil and reminded her he could do much, much more for her if she didn’t insist on anonymity. But he also respected and protected her choice for privacy.

Rafe had also pursued her romantically since the moment they’d been introduced by a mutual friend. It had been after one of her performances at a Gold Coast club fourteen months ago. But Laila had only made the decision to date him last month. Even before they’d started dating, Rafe hated

when she took the L home. He insisted it was dangerous at the time of night her performances ended. He hired a driver for her. But Laila always took a perverse pleasure in slipping through the dark tunnels at night and blending into the shadows.

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