Til Her Last Breath

Chapter 5

Layla slipped the dress over her head and pulled it down, smoothing the material over her curves, then pulled the tie around back and made a bow. She looked at herself critically in the mirror. The little dress was black, but the edge of the neckline and the tie around her waist were deep royal purple. No. The tie at the waist made her look too short up top and too long on the bottom. What she needed was solid black. Yanking the dress back off over her head she dropped it on the floor at her feet and reached for the next one.

The next dress was perfect, and she realized it the moment she pulled it on. It clung to her curves and the full skirt reached to just above her knees. The sleeves were tight to the elbow then belled out to her wrists and the scoop neckline dipped just low enough to give a hint of cleavage without exposing too much. She spun around a little, then chuckled at herself. You're acting like a little girl, she told herself. Well why not? You're only as old as you feel, and she had to admit that Nicolas made her feel like a teenager again, all fluttery and giggly.

She glanced at her watch and was shocked at how late it had become. In a rush, she changed back into her own clothing and gathered up all the dresses, draping the one she was going to buy over her arm, then exited the dressing room.

"Did you find something this time?" the sales girl asked.

"I did!" Layla told her. "I'll finally be out of your hair."

The girl laughed. "It's not a problem," she dismissed.

Layla dumped the rejects on the counter. "Sorry," she said when the girl looked at her.

"Not a problem," the girl said again, but Layla could hear the fatigue in her voice.

"Sorry," she said again, and offered the girl a little wave before she walked away.

The store was mostly empty, which was perfect for Layla. She liked to shop early, when people were at work and kids were in school, to avoid the crowds, so she was surprised when she found her path blocked. The woman was maybe a few years older than herself with black hair and eyes a startling shade of jade green. She had placed herself directly in front of Layla, and when she tried to walk around, she moved, blocking her again.

"Excuse me," Layla said.

"Layla Ross?" the woman asked.

Layla stopped trying to get around her and stared at her. "How do you know my name?"

"I've been looking for you," the woman told her. "I'm Veronica Edgewood. I need to talk to you about your new neighbor."

"Nicolas?"

"Yes," Veronica answered. "He's a very dangerous man."

Layla thought of Nicolas, running to her defense, putting new locks on her doors, telling her just to scream and he'd hear her. Oh right. So dangerous. But then she thought of the fire in his eyes, the heat in his touch, the desire that threatened to overwhelm her, to rob her of her self-control. Oh, yes. Very dangerous.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

Veronica took her elbow and pulled her in among the clothing racks, giving them some semblance of privacy. Layla yanked her arm out of Veronica's grip and backed away from her warily.

"What I have to tell you is going to sound crazy," Veronica started. "Nicolas Thorne is not what he seems."

This seemed to be the week for 'may sound crazy' Layla thought, remembering Gina's warnings. She was getting a little tired of it. "Who is what they seem?" she countered.