Chapter 9: A Lie So Good

*Layla*

As the car pulled away from the curb, I found myself still clutching the envelope tightly to my chest. I could feel Dante's eyes on me, his curiosity palpable in the confined space of the car.

I knew he would want to see the contents of the envelope, to unravel the mystery of my father's past alongside me. But something deep inside me, a fierce protectiveness and a need for privacy, made me hesitate.

I glanced at the clock on the dashboard and felt a jolt of panic. "It's Monday," I said suddenly, my voice tight. "I'm already late for work."

Dante's brow furrowed, his gaze shifting from the envelope to my face. "I thought you weren't going in today," he said, his tone slightly questioning.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing for an excuse. "I hadn't planned to," I admitted, my fingers tightening around the envelope. "But I just remembered, I have some reports I need to turn in. If I don't do it today, I'll be even more behind."

Dante's frown deepened, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. "Can't you just call out?" he asked, his hand reaching for mine. "I'm sure they'll understand."

I shook my head, pulling my hand away gently. "I really shouldn’t," I said, trying to keep my voice firm. "But I promise, I'll just go in, turn in the reports, and then I can take the rest of the day to move my essentials into the penthouse."

Dante's jaw clenched, and I could see the displeasure in his eyes. I hated disappointing him, hated the idea of putting any distance between us, even for a moment.

Impulsively, I reached out and took his hand, bringing it to my lips and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. "Please understand," I whispered, my eyes searching his.

For a moment, Dante's expression softened, his thumb brushing over my cheek. But then his gaze hardened, a steely resolve settling over his features.

"Fine," he said, his voice clipped. "But while you're there, you might as well give your notice."

I blinked, my heart stuttering in my chest. "Notice?" 

Dante nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "You're with me now, Layla. You don't need to work anymore. I can take care of you, provide for you in ways you never dreamed of."

I felt a flicker of anger at his presumption, at the way he seemed to think he could control every aspect of my life. "I never agreed to quit my job," I retorted.

Dante's eyebrow lifted, a clear sign of his growing impatience. "We'll discuss it later," he concluded, his tone brooking no argument. "For now, just give me the address of your office."

I hesitated for a moment, but then relented, giving him the address and watching as he relayed it to the driver.

As the car wound its way through the city streets, I could feel the unspoken questions and doubts hanging heavy in the air.

When we finally pulled up in front of my office building, relief washed over me. I needed space, needed time to think and process everything that had happened.

I reached for the door handle, but Dante's hand on my arm stopped me. "I'll wait for you," he told me in a low and intense voice. "Don't be long."

I nodded, my throat tight with emotion. I could feel Dante's eyes on me as I stepped out of the car.

I hurried into the building, my heart pounding in my ears. I couldn't shake the feeling that every move I made was being scrutinized and analyzed.

When I finally reached the privacy of my office, I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

With trembling hands, I tore open the envelope, my eyes widening as I took in its contents.

Inside was a leather-bound journal, its pages worn and yellowed with age. Beside it lay a stack of taped recordings, each one carefully labeled with a date and a name.

I felt a lump form in my throat as I ran my fingers over the journal, tracing the familiar lines of my father's handwriting. I had always known that he kept a journal, but I had never been allowed to read it, had never even seen it after his death.

With a shaking hand, I opened it to the first page, my eyes scanning the words written there.

"If you're reading this, Layla, then I am gone, and you are in danger."

I felt my breath catch in my throat, my heart hammering in my chest. Danger? What kind of danger could my father have possibly foreseen?

I flipped through the pages, my eyes catching snippets of information, names, dates, and places that meant nothing to me. But as I read on, a picture began to emerge.

My father had been involved with some dangerous people, had made deals and alliances that put him and our family at risk. He had tried to protect us, to keep us safe, but in the end, it seemed that the consequences of his choices had caught up with him.

I felt tears sting my eyes as I read his final entry, dated just days before his death.

"I have made mistakes, Layla, mistakes that I fear will haunt you long after I am gone. But know this: everything I did, I did for you and your mother. I only ever wanted to keep you safe, to give you the life you deserved."

I closed the journal, my hands shaking as I reached for the taped recordings. Each one was labeled with a name–some I recognized, others I didn't. My eyes rested on the last name I would have expected but should have… DeLuca.

I popped the tape into the player and hesitated for a moment, my finger hovering over the play button. Did I really want to know the truth? Did I want to uncover the secrets that my father had died trying to protect?

But even as the question formed in my mind, I knew the answer. I had to know, I had to understand the past that had shaped my present.

With a deep breath, I pressed play on the recording, my father's voice filling the room.

"Layla, my darling daughter. If you're listening to this, then I am gone, and you have found the journal I left for you. I'm so sorry, my love. I'm sorry for the secrets I kept, for the lies I told. But I need you to know that everything I did, I did to protect you."

I felt tears stream down my cheeks as I listened to my father's words, to the love, the pain, and the regret that poured out of every syllable.

"The people I was involved with, Layla, they're dangerous. They will stop at nothing to get what they want, to protect their own interests. And now that I'm gone, I fear that they will come for you, now that they can’t get to me."

I felt a chill run down my spine at his words, at the urgency in his voice.

"I have left you everything you need to stay safe, Layla. The journal, the recordings, they will guide you, will help you navigate the treacherous waters ahead. But you must be careful, you must trust no one but yourself."

I nodded, even though I knew he couldn't see me. I would be careful, and would guard these secrets with my life.

"And Layla, my heart, there is one more thing. One more secret that I must entrust to you."

I leaned forward, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest.

"There is a man, a new acquaintance of mine, by the name of Dante DeLuca. He is a powerful figure in the city, with a reputation that precedes him. I have heard whispers of his brutality, of the way he deals with his enemies. And I cannot say for certain if he is a man to be trusted or not."

I felt my blood freeze in my veins at my father's words.

"I have not had the chance to fully gauge his character, to determine where his loyalties lie. But I fear that he may be involved in the very web of deceit and danger that I have tried so hard to protect you from."

I shook my head, my mind reeling with my father’s implications. Dante, brutal? Untrustworthy? It seemed so at odds with the man I had come to know, the man who had shown me such tenderness and care.

But even as I tried to reconcile the two images, I felt a flicker of doubt, a whisper of unease that I couldn't quite shake.

"I urge you to be cautious, Layla. To trust your instincts and to guard your heart. The world I have lived in, the world I have tried to shield you from, it is a treacherous place, filled with hidden agendas and shifting allegiances."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. I understood the gravity of the situation I now found myself in.

Looking at the time, I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. 

I took the tape with Dante’s name on it and quickly tucked it just below the waistline of my panties. It felt very strange to me that Dante had known my father. I didn’t spend too much time thinking about it. If I stayed in my office much longer, Dante might come looking for me. 

I hurried out of the room and hopped on the elevator. It began to descend, but suddenly stopped on the next floor. I looked up as the doors slid open to reveal Anton, his expression dark but filled with annoyance.

He stepped into the elevator and let the doors close again before reaching out to press the emergency stop button. The elevator shuddered to a halt, suspended between floors, and I felt a wave of fear wash over me.

“Are you insane? DeLuca is downstairs waiting for me!” I snarled.

“Which is why I stopped the elevator, so we can talk. What's going on?" Anton asked, his voice urgent. "I saw you at the bank with DeLuca."

“I know. You keep showing up with DeLuca around, you’re gonna get me caught and killed,” I hissed. 

His eyes darkened even more. “We have another sixty seconds before the office maintenance responds. I’ll be gone by then.”

“But I’ll still be here, so what do I tell them when they come to see why the elevator stopped?” 

“You’ll think of something.”

“What do you want?” I demanded as I felt the pressure of each second ticking by.

“Why were you at the bank?” he pressed.

I knew he followed me, but hadn't expected him to care about why I went to the bank. I knew I needed to tread carefully and come up with a lie so good it would not bring Marco’s gangster danger to my life, or Maria’s.