The Guilty Husband by Stephanie DeCarolis

Author:Stephanie DeCarolis [DeCarolis, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2021-02-08T17:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29

Vince

BEFORE

‘Are you sure you don’t want to go somewhere else?’ Layla asks seductively, a red straw held between her teeth. She steps towards me, and I can smell the whiskey on her breath, hear the ice rattling in her glass.

‘Layla, not now. We’re at a work function.’ I can’t seem to keep the irritation out of my voice, though, admittedly, I’m not really trying. She’s drunk, sloppy, but she should know that we can’t take risks like that. I take a step back from her and scan the room to make sure no one is watching us. We just finished developing a new app, Layla’s app actually, and it’s tradition that I take the whole team out for a happy hour as soon as it’s released. From what I can tell, my employees seem to be taking full advantage of the open bar and are paying little to no attention to Layla and me at the far end of the bar. But you can never be too careful.

‘Come on, Vince, you don’t need to be so uptight all the time. Have a little fun, for once,’ Layla pouts.

She’s behaving like a spoiled and petulant child. Maybe it’s the age difference, maybe I am just a grumpy old man who’s forgotten to how to have fun, but I have little patience for her neediness, her immaturity lately. It seems that Layla always finds a way to get what she wants.

Ever since Marta almost caught us in my apartment, I’ve been trying to put some distance between Layla and me. She told me not to worry about it, Marta didn’t actually see anything, so who cares if she heard the shower running? But I do. I care. It was too close of a call and made me realize how dangerous this game we’ve been playing really is.

I’d like to say that that time in my apartment was the last time I was with Layla, but truthfully it wasn’t. As much as I’ve tried to avoid Layla, it seems that she is trying just as hard to find ways to be alone with me. Whether she’s cozying up to me in the copy room, working late so that she can walk out to the parking lot with me, or hand-delivering memos to my office, Layla never seems to be too far away. I can’t say for certain that she’s doing it intentionally, but it certainly feels that way.

Earlier this week I was out to dinner with an important investor who was interested in learning more about the new video game branch, when Layla sauntered in draped on the arm of another man while wearing a tight red dress that left little to the imagination. I thought perhaps it was a coincidence that we ended up in the same restaurant, that perhaps she hadn’t even seen me sitting on the other side of the room, but when the investor got up to use the restroom, Layla walked straight over to my table. She sat herself across from me and said, ‘I’m sorry if this is a bit awkward for you, Vince.

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