L A Y L A   A B R A H A M 

The light on the cooker flashed back at her as she leaned back against her kitchen island. Her dinner of chicken breast, roast potatoes and gravy was ready. Plating her food, she took it over to the sofa in the living room where she commenced to eat in front of the TV; a re-run of Law & Order: SVU.

Her chicken felt dry, the potatoes soggy and the gravy chunky. Either her cooking skills had severely deteriorated the 2 days she had been away from her cafe, or she just wasn't in the mood for food.

Layla hadn't even finished half the chicken before she wrapped it up and left it in the kitchen for a midnight snack later.

Her phone read 9.31 pm and for the first time since she had been released from the hospital yesterday, she found herself alone.

After leaving the hospital the previous night, her father had slept on the couch in the living room while her brother slept on the floor. She knew they were worried – and understandably so – but she also knew sleeping rough hadn't been comfortable for either of them and so that was why she had ushered them both out of her apartment after lunch. Albeit, she had to promise to call if she needed anything.

While she didn't currently need anything, she found herself feeling strange. She couldn't quite place the feeling, but she felt the urge to pick up the phone and call her brother; to have someone to talk to.

He answered on the first ring. "Is something wrong?" The worry was evident and knowing her brother, he was already planning to drop everything he was doing to rush over to her.

"Hey, big brother." She smiled.

"Layla, do you need me to come over?"

"No," she laughed softly. "I just called to see how you were doing."

He didn't believe her. "I could be there with pizza in under half an hour."

"I don't need you to come over." She laid her head back against the sofa and stared up at the ambrosia white ceiling. "I just called you to talk."

"Are you sure everything's okay?" The man was adamant, she had to give him that.

Levi was always a sweet and caring brother. "Everything is perfect. I'm fine and I've already eaten dinner." The last part wasn't a complete lie. She had technically eaten dinner, even if she hadn't finished it all. "What are you doing?"

He hesitated for a few seconds. "I'm actually with someone right now."

That piqued her interest. "Like, a girl?"

"Yes, a girl."

"And you offered to bring me pizza while you were with her?" She was full on grinning now.

"Family comes first." He insisted and she knew that if she didn't stop him soon, he would leave his date to spend the evening with her.

"You're the best." She smiled. "But get back to your date."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine." She assured him and even though she technically was fine, she didn't feel fine. "I'll call you if I need you."

"Make sure you do. And remember to call dad."

"I will, big brother. Good luck." Hanging up, she dropped her phone down on the sofa and stared at the TV. Another re-run of Lay & Order: SVU. As much as she usually loved the show, now just didn't feel like a fitting time for it.

Picking up her phone, she glanced at the 3 voicemails she had put off listening to. Now that time appeared to slow down and she had nothing better to do to pass the time until she was sleepy enough to head to bed, she decided to listen to them.

The first message was from one of her employees, Hailey. "Layla. Just called to let you know that we're running low on flour. I sent Nathan out to pick some up because I don't think we'll last until the delivery tomorrow. Also, I wanted to wish you luck for the big, fancy bank meeting today. Don't be nervous. You're going to crush it!"

She smiled at that and made a mental note to check that Hailey had taken money out of the till for the flour.

The second was from her father. "Layla, where are you? Are you at home?" Tears stung her eyes as she heard the distress and fear in her father's voice. "I've just seen the news. If you're still at home, don't leave. Don't go to the bank! I need you to call me as soon as you get this!" He wasn't finished speaking but the tone sounded, effectively cutting him off.

The third and last was from a number not saved in her phone. Despite her untrustworthiness, her curiosity won out and she ended up listening to the message. "Layla." She immediately recognised this voicemail to be from Kevin, her ex-boyfriend. "I called your brother and he told me what happened." She made another mental note to ask her brother why he was still associating himself with her ex-boyfriend, and one as pungent and disgusting as Kevin. "I hope you're okay. Call me when you get this message. Maybe we can go out for dinner."

A sour taste bloomed in her mouth and she deleted the message before it could finish playing.

Another half hour or so passed and just as she found herself falling asleep on the sofa to the sound of Detective Benson and Detective Stabler solving yet another case, a sharp, rapid knock sounded through the apartment.

She sat up and glanced at the door, gulping with dread at the thought of checking to see who it was.

When Layla opened the door, her life flashed before her eyes.

All of a sudden, it was 2 days ago and she was back at the bank, held captive with a dozen civilians in the same fateful position as her. Fear struck her heart at the thought that they had come back to take her away; to finish their job.

The man that stood behind her door towered over her at a modest height of 6 foot 2 or 3, broad shoulders that blocked the sight behind him and grey eyes so light she struggled to look away from. His hair was a deep brown that right now, looked midnight black under the harsh overhead lights of the lobby, curling over the tops of ears in loose ringlets. His jaw was sharp, his cheekbones high, his nose slightly crooked to the left and his eyebrows naturally arched, constantly making people wonder if he was mocking them.

His olive, Mediterranean skin tone hinted at his Spanish heritage.

Her first instinct was to throw herself at him and crush his mouth to hers, to kiss him as if her life depended on it. Her second instinct was to shut the door in his face and call Detective Hardy.

"Your parents never teach you any manners?" He pushed his foot into the crack between the doorway and the door just as she attempted to close it in his face.

Layla grunted as she pushed harder, trying to shut the door in his face and keep the stranger – albeit, the most handsome and rugged stranger she had ever seen in her life – out of her apartment. "You parents never teach you to wait until you're invited in?" Closing the door didn't seem like a feasible option anymore. Instead, she hooked the chain on the door and stepped away before he forced himself inside.

She was nearly certain that he could break it if he tried – his arms in the obsidian suit jacket he was wearing were definitely big and strong enough – but she needed to buy some time.

He peeked through the gap, clearly not impressed. "I'm not a vampire."

This man was definitely as handsome as a vampire, if not more. But now was not the time for that.

"Who are you?"

"Alejandro Serrano." His Spanish accent coiled around his name, sending her heart off in a frenzy. "Alejandro is just fine." She had determined that while he was Spanish, he was probably born in this country or had lived here for a long time as his Spanish accent didn't peak through when he spoke English, but his husky, deep voice had a similar effect on her.

She gulped. "I don't know any Alejandro's."

The man smirked a devilish smile. "Well, you do now."

"What do you want with me?"

"Let me in and I'll tell you."

She laughed despite the situation. "That's definitely not happening." Layla scampered towards the kitchen in search of a means to protect herself. Her apartment was on the 6th floor so there was no way she would be able to jump out a window and make a run for it.

"If you could just let me in, I'll tell you what I'm here for." His voice was teasing but his words promised trouble.

Layla eyed her set of knives. "I'm no longer interested in what you have to say." She reached for the biggest, sharpest knife she owned – a butcher's knife she used to chop meat – before heading back towards the front door.

She eyes him through the gap, holding up her weapon, making sure it caught his eye.

He merely leaned in closer to inspect her weapon of choice. "If I don't leave, you're going to cut me?" His voice held mirth.

She gulped. "If I have to." She knew she was lying, but hoped he didn't.

"I doubt that, beautiful."

"Don't call me beautiful and don't flirt with me!" She pointed the knife higher at him. "Now is not the time for flirting."

"Seems like the perfect time for flirting." He shrugged. "Beautiful." She was sure he had added the last part just to spite her.

She refused to acknowledge how he had done exactly that or how his words caused her insides to somersault. "What do you want with me?"

"I thought you're no longer interested in what I have to say." He mocked her.

Layla ground her teeth at his response. Alejandro Serrano may be the most sinfully handsome man she had ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on, but right now, he was also the most infuriating man she had the displeasure of meeting. She suspected him to be one of her captors returning to finish the job, and she refused to go down without a fight.

"I'm actually your bodyguard." He chuckled lowly as her jaw dropped in disbelief. "Alejandro Serrano, at your service." The man stepped back and bowed.

Bowed.

Like, actually bent over and bowed to her.

The audacity of him!

Detective Hardy had mentioned that her bodyguard would be getting in touch with her soon, but he had failed to mention that he was the embodiment of Adonis himself. Though, that piece of information probably wasn't relevant when it came to picking qualities in a bodyguard.

"Prove it!"

He leaned in further, his arm braced on the doorway, not fearing the knife that she was still holding up. "Put down your lethal weapon and I'll do just that."

She eyed him with suspicion. "How do I know I can trust you?"

He shrugged. "You don't."

Layla pursed her lips but found herself considering his words nonetheless. She sighed and nodded before returning the knife to the kitchen. "So, how are you going to prove it?"

He smirked. "Call Hardy."

If he wasn't who he was claiming to be, then how would he know about Hardy?

"Fine!" She spat out before heading to the living area for her phone. Finding it on the coffee table, she searched through her contacts and dialled the detective's number, holding it up to her ear.

"The least you could do is let me in."

With her back still facing him, she snorted. "The least I could do is let you stand outside."

He hummed in response but refrained from commenting further.

"Layla?" Detective Hardy's phone sounded in her ear. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's peachy." She bit her tongue to withhold any more sarcasm that threatened to escape. While other's cried or got angry in moments of panic, she resorted to sarcasm. "What's the name of my body guard?"

"Alejandro Serrano. Why?"

"Some man just turned up at my doorstep claiming to be my bodyguard. He says his name is Alejandro Serrano." She turned around, surprised that he was studying her, his eyes unabashedly raking over her figure clad in only an oversized hoodie she had swiped from her brother's wardrobe years ago.

The man had the nerve to smirk at her when she caught him.

"Yes."

"Serrano never did do subtle." Hardy sighed. "Put him on the line."

She frowned, holding out her phone. "He wants to talk to you."

His fingers danced over her hand before he took the phone. "Hardy. Lovely to speak to you again so soon." The familiarity was evident in his voice with a hint of something she couldn't quite put her finger on, almost as if he was speaking to an old rival.

Hardy had just confirmed his identity as her bodyguard. That meant that he had been telling the truth all along.

That made this sinfully handsome man, her bodyguard.

"I could have, yes. But where's the fun in that?" He grinned. "Okay, I'll tell her." And with that, he hung up and handed her phone back to her through the gap in the door. "You think you could let me in now, or do I have to get a letter of recommendation?"

Her frown deepened, but she unhooked the chain and opened the door for him. "Mr Serrano," she began, feeling extremely embarrassed. "I'm so sorry for all that." She forced the words out even though she didn't mean it.

"Call me, Alejandro." His lips upturned into a barely-there smile. "I mean it. Call me."

-

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L A Y L A K N I G H T

12.04.2020