Chapter 10: Best Actress Goes To… Me

*Layla*

“To get money,” I responded as if that should have been obvious.

“You went in empty handed and out clutching this envelope like a new born baby…”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing as I tried to come up with a good explanation. "I also had some personal matters to take care of," I added, and then decided to divert the conversation. "As for Dante, he's asked me to move into his penthouse. For my safety."

Anton's brows furrowed, his eyes searching mine. "Marco will be pleased to hear that." His tone was laced with a dark emotion I could not name. “But if you move in… I can’t protect you.”

I sighed, my shoulders slumping under the weight of his concern. "I know it's a risk, Anton. But it's also the kind of progress that Marco wants to see. If I can get inside DeLuca's inner circle, if I can gain his trust, think of all the information I could gather."

Anton shook his head, his hand reaching and slowly tracing my jaw. 

My breath caught in my throat as a sensation ran over me. I didn’t like it, but I didn’t altogether hate it either. "It's not worth it, Layla. Tell DeLuca you're not ready, that you need more time."

I pulled his hand away from my cheek. "I already said yes, Anton. If I back out now, I don’t think I’ll get another chance to get close to him."

Anton gave me a derisive smile. “Any man would crawl across broken glass to give you as many chances as you need, Layla.”

“Anton…” 

“I’ll find a way to get you out of this, to keep you safe." He released the emergency stop button and the doors opened on the next floor. The hall was empty.

“Maintenance will still want to know what happened why the elevator… So will DeLuca.”

Anton eyed the package in my arms and gave me a wry smile. “Tell them you were robbed…”

“What?”

“Make it believable…”

Before I could react, he snatched the package in my arms away and ran.

As the reality of Anton's actions sank in, I found myself shaking. He was halfway down the hall before I could think of what to do. I was torn about whether to chase after him or let him go. He had my father’s tape and could take them straight to Marco.

I could cause a scene and have him stopped, but that was certain to get to Marco as well and my mother might pay the price for it. I let him go and watched as he disappeared through the service stairs. 

I knew I had to act fast, and prepare myself to put on a convincing performance of being robbed before Dante came looking for me.

Yawning to produce tears, and taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway, ready to raise the alarm.

"Help!" I cried out, my voice trembling with feigned distress. "I've been robbed!"

Immediately, my colleagues and the building's security staff rushed to my aid, their faces etched with concern and shock. I collapsed against the wall, my body shaking with sobs as I recounted the fabricated tale of the robbery.

"He just came out of nowhere," I gasped, my eyes wide with fear. "He grabbed an envelope from my arms and ran. I tried to stop him, but he was too fast."

I could feel the sympathetic gazes of those around me, their hearts going out to the poor, defenseless victim I portrayed myself to be.

Just as I was finishing my story, I heard a familiar voice cutting through the crowd, filled with worry and urgency.

"Layla! What happened? Are you alright?"

I looked up to see Dante pushing his way through the throng of people, his eyes locked on mine. The concern in his gaze was palpable, and for a moment, I felt a pang of guilt for deceiving him.

But I quickly pushed the feeling aside, reminding myself of the dangerous game I was playing. I had to stay focused, had to keep up the charade if I wanted to survive.

"Oh, Dante," I breathed as I threw myself into his arms. "It was horrible. I was robbed, in the elevator. He took the envelope, everything."

Dante's arms tightened around me, his body tense. "Who did this?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Did you see his face?"

I shook my head, burying my face in his chest. "No, it all happened so fast.”

“He must have been caught on the security cameras,” a coworker said.

At the mention of the security cameras, Dante's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. "I want to see the footage," he barked. "Now."

I felt my heart drop into my stomach. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks—I was about to be caugh. The thought of facing Dante's wrath, of seeing the betrayal and anger in his eyes when he discovered the truth, was almost too much to bear.

I followed Dante and the security personnel to the small, claustrophobic room filled with monitors, my feet heavy with each step. The walls seemed to close in around me. I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead, my hands trembling at my sides.

The security officer queued up the footage, and I braced myself for the inevitable. My mind raced, desperately trying to think of a plan of escape. Could I make a run for it? Could I somehow overpower Dante and the others and make my way out of the building? Each scenario seemed more impossible than the last, and I felt a wave of hopelessness wash over me.

The seconds ticked by like hours as the footage began to play, and I held my breath, waiting for the moment when my lies would be laid bare. But as I watched the screen, my eyes widened in disbelief. The images were distorted and garbled, static and fuzzy shapes that bore no resemblance to the events that had transpired in the elevator between me and Anton.

I stared at the screen, hardly daring to believe my eyes. It was as if the universe had conspired to save me, to give me a second chance. I felt a rush of relief wash over me, so powerful that it nearly brought me to my knees.

"What the hell?" Dante muttered, his brow furrowed in confusion and frustration. "What's wrong with the footage?"

The security officer shook his head, his expression perplexed. "I don't know, sir. It looks like some kind of interference, like the signal was scrambled somehow."

Dante's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching with barely suppressed anger. "Scrambled? How is that possible?"

The officer hesitated, as if afraid to voice his thoughts. "Well, sir, it's possible that the assailant was wearing some kind of scrambling device. Something that could disrupt the camera's feed and prevent a clear image from being captured."

I felt a flicker of hope at the officer's words. If they believed that Anton had been wearing a scrambler, then maybe, just maybe, I could still salvage this situation.

I looked up at Dante, my eyes wide and filled with feigned confusion. "A scrambler? Why would someone go to all that trouble just to rob me?"

Dante's gaze met mine, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of suspicion in his eyes, a hint of doubt that sent a chill down my spine. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a look of grim determination.

"This was no ordinary robber," he muttered, his gaze darting around the room as if searching for hidden enemies. "This was someone with resources, someone who knew what they were doing."

He turned to me, his expression intense and his jaw clenched. "Layla, I need you to tell me everything you remember about the robber. What did he say to you? Did he give any indication of what he wanted or who he was working for?"

I swallowed hard. I knew I couldn't tell Dante the truth, couldn't let him know that Anton was involved. But I also couldn't risk implicating myself or revealing too much about my own secrets.

"I... I don't know," I stammered, my voice trembling. "It all happened so quickly. He didn't say much, just grabbed the envelope and ran. I tried to stop him, but he was too strong."

Dante's eyes searched mine, as if trying to discern the truth behind my words. For a moment, I thought he might press further, might demand more answers. But then, to my relief, his expression softened, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek.

"It's okay, baby girl," he murmured, his thumb caressing my cheek. "You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you."

I nodded, leaning into his touch, letting his strength and warmth envelop me. But even as I did, I could feel the guilt and fear twisting in my gut like a knife.

How long could I keep up this charade? How long before the truth came out, before Dante discovered my betrayal? The stress of it all swept over me along with a wave of dizziness and my knees buckling beneath me. I swayed on my feet, my vision blurring as the room spun around me.

"Layla!" Dante's voice sounded far away, as if he were calling to me from underwater. "Layla, what's wrong?"

I tried to answer, tried to reassure him that I was fine. But the words wouldn't come, my tongue heavy and useless in my mouth. I felt my body going limp, my consciousness slipping away like sand through an hourglass.

The last thing I remembered before the darkness claimed me was the feeling of Dante's arms around me, lifting me up and cradling me against his chest. Then, nothing but silence and the faint scent of his cologne lulling me into oblivion.

When I awoke, I found myself in Dante’s penthouse and stretched against the soft and silky sheets against my bare skin. 

Wait. Why was I naked except for my bra and underwear? 

For a moment, I tried to remember how I had gotten there. I clutched the bed sheets to my body as the fog of sleep lifted from my mind, the events of the day came rushing back to me.

The robbery. The interrogation. The dizziness and the fainting spell.

I sat up with a gasp. What had happened to me?

As if in answer to my unspoken question, the door to the room opened, revealing a familiar figure standing in the doorway.

"Layla, you're awake." Dante's voice was filled with reserved relief as he strode towards the bed. "How are you feeling?"

I blinked up at him, my mind still hazy and confused. "I... I don't know," I mumbled, my tongue thick and clumsy in my mouth. "What happened? Where are my clothes?” 

Dante sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from my forehead. "You fainted at the office, and I brought you here to rest. The doctor said you were suffering from shock and exhaustion."

I frowned, trying to piece together the fragmented memories in my mind. I remembered the elevator, the confrontation with Anton. I remembered the security footage and the interrogation that followed. But everything after that was a blur.

"The envelope," I whispered, my eyes widening with sudden realization. Anton! "Did they find him? Did they catch…the robber?"

Dante's expression darkened, his jaw clenching with barely suppressed anger. "No," he admitted, his voice tight. "Whoever did this knew what he was doing. He vanished and covered their tracks well."

I felt relieved knowing that Anton had gotten away and that I wasn’t caught in a lie, at least for the moment. But the feeling was short-lived, quickly replaced by a growing sense of unease.

Why had Anton put my situation with Dante in jeopardy? Why had he taken the envelope? What would he do with it?