Ravana watched her quietly for a moment. “You’ve always been much more than that, Layla.”
Layla stared at him, thrown off by the whisper of affection in his voice.
“Come,” he said, wrapping her arm in his once more. “You must be famished.”
Obligingly, she allowed him to lead her down the corridor and to a set of double doors. He opened it and gestured for her to step inside.
Layla walked through the threshold to find a grand dining hall. It had a long table that could seat at least twenty people with three large candelabras filled with red tapered candles, and fresh flowers filled various vases atop small tables that lined the room. At the head of the table were two seats already set with platters of food. Ravana walked past Layla, pulled out a seat, and looked at her expectantly.
Trying to remain stoic, Layla brushed past Ravana and sat in the chair. He then sat down in the chair next to hers at the head of the table.