2. People Don't Change

Did she have some sign on her head that said she was a pushover or desperate? 

Layla pushed the cart with more force than necessary until she was far enough away from the penthouse suite and then leaned against the wall. Her knees were still shaking, and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was because of the man’s words had said or the man himself. It surprised her she hadn’t fallen flat on her face when she’d made her righteous exit. 

The men were in the most expensive suite in the exclusive hotel; they didn’t need to ask a stranger to help them out. He might have somehow got a hold of some of her personal information, but everyone in Wolfdale knew about her. The kid abandoned by her mother. The kid who’d had to drop out of school so she could work and take care of her little sister because their father was an alcoholic and a gambling addict. 

That didn’t mean she had no dignity left. She wouldn’t give up a child! Those men thought they could throw their money around like that, and she would agree just because she wasn’t like them, and that made her blood boil. 

But in her mind, she still saw the man naked and on top of her. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel it. It was a shame he was gay because she was positive he would be great in bed. Her body was still on fire, still trying to get over the shock of coming face to face with such a perfect specimen of a man. 

A god. 

He looked like one. Handsome didn’t even begin to describe him. Chiselled jawline, a short beard that probably cost more than her wages to maintain and silky, dark hair styled to look like he’d just rolled out of bed and didn’t give a fuck. He’d turned her knees to jelly and melted her panties in seconds without moving from his seat. Without even cracking a smile. She had never reacted so violently to anyone before. 

Why was it always the handsome ones that were batshit crazy? 

She pushed aside the disappointment. The cool wall slightly helped control her overheating body, but sweat still dripped down her back and cleavage. They were in the middle of a heatwave so intense even the hotel’s air conditioning system wasn’t helping. She’d been like that for a few days as if she was coming down with something for the first time in her life. 

But it was the stranger with the cold ice-blue eyes that had worked her up like that.

She shouldn’t care about who he shared his bed with, but something inside her wanted to claw the other guy’s eyes out. It was so strong that she had to make a conscious effort to stop herself from returning to the room. Crazy. She was going crazy.

“I don’t pay you to have unscheduled breaks, Layla.”

Her eyes snapped open to see Andrea looking down her nose at her as usual. And it took a special kind of person to look down their nose at someone who towered over them. Andrea barely reached her chest. 

“I’m sorry, Miss Roberts,” she said, lowering her head. “I’m almost finished.”

Her supervisor insisted on being called Miss Roberts since her promotion, as if that would make her more respectable. Everyone knew how she got that job.

“You’re a mess,” Andrea said, wrinkling her nose. “And you smell. Clean yourself up and do something with that hair. We have important guests here today; I don’t have time to deal with you.”

She self-consciously wiped the sweat on her forehead and patted her hair down, even though she knew it wouldn’t help. Her red, curly hair was just a giant unruly puff above her head, and her pale blue uniform had sweat stains under her armpits. Whatever sweat that wasn’t being sucked up by her hair was dripping down her face like crazy. 

Another reason why that stranger had to be out of his mind to make such an offer to her while she looked like that.

Andrea turned and carried on down the hallway in her formal suit and high heels. Her manager did indeed look distracted today, so she supposed she had to be grateful for that because usually, she would have shouted at her and threatened to fire her at least a hundred times already. 

With a sigh, she put Andrea and the handsome stranger out of her mind as she continued cleaning. By the time she finally left the hotel that evening, she looked even worse, but she went out through the staff entrance and straight to her little car without bumping into Andrea again. There was a shower with her name on it at home.

It took her almost half an hour to leave the nicer neighbourhoods and cross the tracks to hers. It was so cliched, but the wealthy had separated themselves from the rest of the residents. The difference was stark, but she was used to it. There was nothing shiny on her side, and all the cars were old bangers like hers. Everything needed fixing or was broken beyond repair. But she felt more at home there, even if she itched to leave the dump and discover what was beyond Wolfdale.

She parked outside their old trailer home and sighed as she walked in. The TV was blaring, and her father lay on the couch, already passed out. She didn’t have to go near him to know he had been drinking again. The day’s mail was on the counter near the door, placed there where she wouldn’t miss it, and it was unopened even though it had her father’s name on it. Bills. Overdue bills.

The stranger's offer popped back into her mind, but she pushed it away. She didn’t need to sell a piece of herself to pay the bills.

She sighed again as she picked the mail up and headed for the tiny bedroom she shared with her sister. She carefully opened the creaky door in case Britney was asleep but saw her hunched over her books instead. A small smile formed on her lips. 

It was worth it. All the shit she had to do to feed her sister was worth it. Brit would forge a better life all by herself, away from this dump.

And then she would finally be free, too.

Layla felt like she’d hardly closed her eyes when her alarm went off. She always woke up early to make sure Brit didn’t forget to eat her breakfast before school. Her sister always did that, as if by skipping meals, she would lighten the load on her shoulders.

There was hardly anything in the fridge, and she probably wouldn’t be able to do a proper grocery shop for a while with the bills she had to pay. A second job would have been great, but no one was hiring. Another pitfall of living in a small town in the middle of nowhere. She had to do her best until they could leave for greener pastures. 

And she couldn’t leave until Brit left for college. 

With a loud yawn, she took the eggs out and set about making an omelette for Brit with a couple of slices of toast. She’d just poured herself a cup of coffee when she noticed her father through the window. In just his pyjama bottoms, his long, brunette hair was a tangled mess, and his beard was weeks old. Her father didn’t care that the neighbours always saw him like this. He was pacing and seemed to be in a heated argument on the phone. He looked tense and had a scowl as he gestured with his free hand like the person on the other side could see him. What the hell had that man done now?

She wouldn’t get involved. Gerald Carlisle hadn’t been a real father to them in a very long time. 

“Smells good.”

She turned from the window to smile at her sister, who’d already dressed for school. Brit was the spitting image of their father with her brunette locks and hazel eyes. She was also the shortest in the family. People never believed they were sisters because she looked like a sasquatch beside Brit.

“Aren’t you having any?” Brit asked.

“No, I’ll eat at the hotel,” she lied. 

That was her excuse whenever she didn’t have enough money to feed all of them. Andrea never allowed them to take even a piece of fruit from the kitchen. 

Their father wrenched the door open and marched in. His large frame took up most of the space in the small kitchen. He didn’t even bother speaking to them as he went straight to the fridge and pulled a beer out. That was the one thing abundant in their house.

When he just threw himself onto the one sofa they had in the house and put the TV on, Brit shook her head and stood.

“I’m going to school,” she mumbled. 

Layla looked at the half-eaten omelette on Brit’s plate. 

“Finish your breakfast,” she said firmly.

“I’ve lost my appetite,” Brit said as she walked to their bedroom.

Layla couldn’t help glaring at the disgrace of a man who had already become engrossed in his program. Gerald acted like he was the only one in the family her mother had abandoned—he’d wasted eleven years pining over someone who didn’t want any of them. It made her furious, but she didn’t have to put up with him much longer.

Brit mumbled a goodbye when she came out of their room with her school bag. 

“Wait.”

She pulled some money out of her pocket and gave a few notes to Brit. It was supposed to have gone in the money jar she kept hidden for emergencies or to top up Brit’s college fund, but keeping her sister healthy was more important. She would find a way to replace it.

“Layla_”

“Take it. Have something to eat at school,” she insisted.

She didn’t miss that Gerald had become very interested in that small exchange and would probably ask her for money, too. She finished Brit’s breakfast without giving him any attention before she went to shower and dress for work.

She didn’t bother straightening her hair because it was still early morning, but the heat was already unbearable. At least the hotel washed their uniforms daily, so she didn’t have to worry about the sweat stains. She just tied her hair up into a neater puff and looked at herself in the small, cracked mirror in the corner of their cramped room. The inspection was brief because, unlike Brit, she was the image of her mother. Her green eyes were a shade she’d never seen on anyone else, and it was unnerving. The entire package made her feel like an outsider in her family.

She reached for her bag and froze when she heard a crash and loud voices. 

Her heart hammered loudly, and her hands shook as she inched the door open to stop it from creaking before peeking out.

A large man stood over her father, who he had smashed through their wooden coffee table. Gerald tried to get back to his feet, but the man punched him down again. She took a sharp breath when she saw how helpless her father was as he pleaded for mercy.

What had he done now? 

“I already gave you several chances, Gerald,” another man said.

He sat in her father’s spot on the chair. She could only see the back of his blond head, but it looked greasy and slicked back. Like a baddie out of a horrible B-grade horror movie.

She wanted to slip out through her window and let her father suffer alone, but that stupid thing in her head reminded her he was still family. And this was Brit’s home; she couldn’t allow anything bad to happen here.

With a calming breath, she opened the door wider and walked out of the bedroom.

“I swear, I only need a little more time,” Gerald said. “I’m good for it this time.”

“You said that last time,” the man said. 

As he stood, he looked back as if he had already known she was standing behind him. He was young, with a scar across his face that gave him a terrifying look. He wore a suit, but he had a gold tooth and chain around his neck, like he really copied his sense of style from a terrible movie. She felt a cold shiver down her spine when he pulled his coloured sunglasses off his face, and his grey eyes looked over her body from top to bottom. Her skin crawled at the blatant violation.

“Hello, Layla,” the man said. 

Great. A second stranger knew her name.

When she didn’t answer, he laughed and looked back at her father. 

“You’re lucky this beautiful angel is here,” the man said. “I think you know what you can give me if you can’t pay up. I’ll be in touch.”

The man turned back to her with another sinister grin before walking out, and the enormous man standing over her father followed.

She waited until she heard their car drive off before she stormed to her father.

“How much do you owe?” she hissed.

“Not much. Just twenty grand.”

Her eyes almost popped out of her head when she heard that figure. Not much? That amount would go a long way in sending Brit off to college. 

“How?! What did you do with such a large amount of money? You haven’t paid bills here or taken care of us in a long time!”

Gerald gingerly sat back in his chair, ignoring the mess the men had made in the living room.

“It was supposed to be a sure bet,” Gerald mumbled. “I would have paid off everything and then had enough to fix things.”

Her blood went cold. Her father’s gambling had landed them in the trailer park to start with.

“You said you would stop. You said you’d never gamble aga—”

“Well, I lied,” Gerald snapped. “And I obviously can’t fix this myself, so you’ll have to think of your sister. I’ll give him what he wants and be done with it.”

She remembered the look in the man’s eyes when he’d looked at her, and her meagre breakfast almost came back up.

“And what’s that, Dad?” she whispered. 

“You. I’m going to give him you.”