Chapter 8

Laila

I’m smiling inwardly, wondering why James has been so persistent in trying to chat with me. Many girls keep glancing at him now and then. He could easily go to any of them. I keep hinting that I’m not interested, that I’d rather not have this conversation, but he doesn’t take the hint. It’s not easy, though. He’s persistent, and his presence has a way of making me feel… funky?

He looks incredibly appealing in that dark blue tuxedo, his hair styled just right, the gel giving it that effortless "I’m too cool to care" look. Something tugs at my heart. Maybe I wish circumstances were different. Maybe I could have a fling with him. But, no—what am I thinking? That doesn't matter… right?

I usually pride myself on being kind and open to conversation, but this guy… this hot, rich stranger is making me feel… uneasy. I can’t even put a name to the feeling. Maybe edgy? Yes, something like that. But I can’t decide if it’s a good or bad kind of edginess. So, I try to keep my distance, remain calm, and not let him get too close. My guard is up, and I’m not making this easy for him at all.

One of his comments was so cheesy, I couldn’t help but cringe. If you asked me, it was way over the top.

At the same time, I can’t deny that there’s a part of me that feels flattered. Instead of chasing after all the other women in the room, he’s focusing his attention on me. But then he mentioned that he knows everyone here, and suddenly, a thought strikes me. Could he…? Has he dated…?

I blinked, my mind racing. Wait. Could it be that he’s been with every girl here? Is that why he’s spending time with me—because I’m just another name on a long list? A fresh piece of meat?

I glance around the room, and I quickly stop myself from counting the girls in attendance. Some are married, others have boyfriends, and a few are older. But the majority… My stomach twisted, a wave of nausea flooding me. No. I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.

Since he stood next to me, my skin has been on overdrive, goosebumps prickling every inch. How is that even possible from just his presence? That can’t be a good sign, right? Definitely bad news.

I need to get rid of him.

“Did your mom tell you to babysit me or something?” I ask, hoping to break the tension.

He shrugs, flashing that bright smile. Hmm, what a lovely sight, I smiled inwardly. It’s enough to stop me in my tracks. Ugh, seriously, get it together, I tell myself.

“Don’t worry about me,” I continue. “I’m used to being alone in a crowd of strangers. I don’t feel lonely. I can entertain myself.”

I gesture toward the other guests. “I like to observe, so don’t feel obligated to stick with me. You’ve probably got a million things to do as the lovely host, don’t you?”

This is the most I’ve said to him tonight. I almost chuckle at myself. Poor guy.

As I mentioned earlier, I usually have a chatty and easy-going personality, but with him tonight, I’m all politeness and short replies.

"Like which guests?" he asked, probably rhetorically.

But I knew. I could already see the way the girls kept glancing in his direction. I’d noticed it before.

"Well, for starters," I said, casually scanning the room, "I can see... five girls practically undressing you with their eyes."

I scratched my nose as I said it, trying to seem indifferent.

"Rather gross," I added under my breath.

I would never understand why some girls acted so pathetic around a handsome guy. They fawned over him, practically throwing themselves at his feet. Didn’t they have any self-respect? Why couldn’t they just let the guy come to them? And if he did, why not make him work for it? Create a little struggle. Push him away a bit. Make him sweat to see if he would stick around longer than a couple of hours.

They seemed to think that after one night, the guy would be so captivated that he’d become obsessed and never let them go. Ridiculous. That only happens in cheesy romance novels. I’m not a guy, but even I understood the principle: easy come, easy go. But whatever—it’s not my life.

Still, if he really was the player I suspected, he should be chasing after one of them, not wasting time on me. I was the wrong choice for him.

I glanced at him and offered a small smile. Silly guy.

"Are you jealous?" he asked with a smirk.

My face fell into a frown, annoyance creeping up.

"Are you arrogant?"

I shot back, my voice sharp with irritation, my expression matching. The amused smile that had lingered earlier disappeared in an instant. He was getting ahead of himself, thinking he had me figured out. Arrogance was one of the things I hated most in people. And, of course, this rich, handsome guy seemed to think all the girls were falling over him. Well, newsflash—I'm not one of them. I’d rather die than let him know the slightest bit of attraction.

I had to keep pushing him away. It was time to strike his ego, hard. That’s the surefire way to scare guys off, right? I might be assuming the wrong things, but let’s see, maybe I hit spot on.

"Have you ever thought that maybe girls are using you?"

I said it with a bite in my tone. He frowned in response.

"What do you mean?"

His confusion was almost amusing.

"Well, that you’re nothing more than a good time? No other reason for a girl to stick around longer than one night?"

His jaw dropped for a moment before he quickly closed it, clenching his teeth. He was processing what I said, and I could see it—it was anger, frustration, and something else. Pain. Good. Maybe now he’ll back off.

I felt a twinge of guilt, of course. I’m usually a nice person. I don’t like hurting people. But this guy was really pushing my buttons. Some people just get under my skin, and I could fight them until blood. Figuratively speaking, of course. I rarely have to, but with him—his arrogance—it was almost too much.

"You think I’m stupid or something?"

He asked, a frown deepening on his face.

"Well, you don’t need to be a genius to figure that out,"

I retorted, my eyebrows raised in challenge.

"You don’t know me!"

His voice was tinged with frustration now, the tension clear.

"And I don’t want to!"

I snapped back, annoyance creeping into my tone. I could see the pain in his eyes, though, and for a second, I faltered. But then he clenched his jaw again. Maybe I should’ve been kinder. He was partially my client, after all. I inwardly sighed. Great. My bratty mouth always gets me in trouble.

"I’ll prove you wrong!"

He said, determination heavy in his voice.

Why? Why is he ignoring everything I’ve said? Why isn’t he leaving me alone? Why isn’t he off chasing another girl? Did I send any signal that I was interested? No. I was extremely careful not to do so. I was polite but distant. I didn’t even give him a proper smile. I avoided him. What is this guy’s deal? Even now, after I hit his ego hard, he’s still persistent about… What exactly? Talking to me? Or hitting on me?

"Oh, James, please, I’m begging you to prove me wrong."

I mocked him sarcastically, though in my mind, I was begging him to just leave me alone. I turned away from him and took a sip of my drink.

An awkward silence stretched between us. His presence made the hair on my body stand on end. What the hell? What was with these strange body reactions? I didn’t even know how to interpret these signals.

"I don’t see most of the females. I only have my eyes on one woman tonight. A very special one."

He suddenly said with a low, almost sad tone. I pulled my gaze away from the crowd, curious to see who he might be looking at. Could there be a girlfriend among the crowd? Or maybe a wife? No. Could it be?

As I turned, I found him looking down at me. My heart skipped a beat. Is he serious? I frowned, but a confused smile tugged at my lips too.

"Jeez, you’re a nonstop cheesy flirt!"

He smirked at me. I shook my head, but the smile still lingered. He knew exactly how to make a woman feel special. He knew how to use words to play tricks on the female mind. But I wasn’t going to fall for it. No. I wouldn’t.

"So, when your mom told you to babysit me, did she include flirting in your duties?"

I raised an eyebrow, my voice carrying an edge of displeasure, but the smile still didn’t leave my face.

"No. For that, I happily volunteered myself!"

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. I was so annoyed by his cocky behavior. I despised bratty, arrogant men. But, strangely enough, it suited him. The vibe I got from him was light and playful. Despite my mental protests, he bounced back with his usual energy. I guess I could admire that.

"So, are these your pick-up lines or something?"

I tried to sound annoyed, but I think I’m failing.

"The real question is—is it working?"

He wiggled his eyebrows again. I shifted my gaze back to the crowd as I sipped my juice.

"I’m rather unimpressed."

I was really trying to push him away. I glanced back at him and saw the flash of pain in his eyes again. He couldn’t possibly have such a fragile ego that something I said would hurt him, right? I felt a twinge of guilt, but I pushed it aside. I needed to keep pushing him further away. I met his eyes, unwavering.

"And slightly repulsed, as I have a feeling you're just trying to get me into your bed."

James

So far, I’ve heard more than my fair share of crap from my mate. Her comment about me being an easy f.uck to girls? That one stung. She’s bold, brave, but d.amn, she can be harsh. On the flip side, the old me would probably have just shrugged it off and thought, if girls were using me, I wouldn’t mind. But things have changed. Now, all I want is this one stubborn woman—Laila.

She’s rejected me so many times in the last ten minutes that it feels like a punch to the gut. Her words hurt. A lot. My wolf’s howling in pain right along with me. I don’t even know where my persistence is coming from, but I’m still hell-bent on winning her over. Maybe it’s my gut telling me she’s pushing me away on purpose—not because she’s not interested, but because there’s something more going on. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this story.

Maybe it’s my pride talking, but I can’t help but think that all the girls want me. The ones who say they don’t? They’re just lying to themselves. And then there’s the fact that she’s my mate—she just doesn’t know yet that I’m the one for her.

Her last bold statement catches me off guard for a moment. Suddenly, a vivid image of her on my bed flashes through my mind, and I can’t shake the thought. Oh, you have no idea. If I could have it my way, I would have pulled you to the closest bathroom and f*cked you hard while bending you over the sink. We wouldn’t even get to bed. I feel that my d*ck grows hard because of these vivid images in my head. But I can’t have these thoughts now if I don’t want to have an embarrassing tent in my pants.

Oh, man, I had so many wet dreams about my mate all week long. I have been jerk*ng off in the shower more than back in my teenage years.

And it's all because of this stunning woman in front of me, who, despite her beauty, seems to have a sharp edge and is doing everything she can to push me away. Rejected again. Me. One of the most sought-after guys among she-wolves and human females alike. But I try again.

"You’re our guest in this country. You don’t know anyone here, so I feel responsible to entertain you tonight and keep you company," I reply earnestly.

"I think the silence earlier told me everything I need to know about what kind of 'entertainment' you have in mind," she air-quotes the word "entertainment," her voice dripping with displeasure as she shakes her head. She’s right, but I can’t admit that to her. Not yet at least.

"Maybe I should prove you wrong," I say, determination still fueling my words.

"Maybe you should just leave me alone?" she snaps back, her tone edged with anger.

Why does she keep pushing me away? Does she have a boyfriend? The thought stings, and jealousy twists at my heart. Does she not like me at all? It seems like she hates my guts—doesn’t want to talk to me, doesn’t even want to be near me. I felt a surge of frustration. This sucks. I grumbled inwardly like a child. I was starting to feel desperate… My head dropped, and I kicked the floor with my shoe, pretending to aim at a rock. I wanted to kick something—anything. Or someone. The constant pressure and rejection was getting to me in ways I couldn’t shake. I needed to release this tension, to run it off, but she was here. How could I leave her?

"Okay, I’m sorry. Maybe your intentions are innocent. I don’t know anyone here except you and your mom."

Her words caught me off guard. It was like our previous exchange had worked her up, but now she’d relaxed and even apologized. That was… unexpected. And, I hoped, a good sign. But my earlier hopes about making progress had been dashed by her sharp words, so I tried not to get too hopeful just yet.

"Come on, I'll introduce you to my younger sisters. They're lovely girls."

Since this conversation wasn't going anywhere good, I needed a change of pace, something to take my mind off things. My family might just be the distraction I needed.

"Hey, girls! This is Laila, my… our home re-decorator and designer."