Want to meet me on the roof?
A smile forms on my face, which has Kingsley whispering, “Falcon?”
I nod, “Do you mind if I go?”
She shakes her head. “I’m going to finish this page then go catch a nap.”
“I’ll text you later.” I pack up my things and hitching my bag strap over my shoulder, I quickly leave the library.
As I go down the stairs, two girls come up, and when they pass me, the one bumps hard into me. I manage to catch myself by grabbing hold of the railing.
Glancing back at the girls, they both give me looks of contempt. “Excuse you,” the girl who bumped into me sneers.
Giving them a cold look, I brush them off and walk away.
You’re better than them. You’re not going to take the bait. No reaction is the best reaction.
“Aaaannnd there goes all my good intentions,” I mutter under my breath when I see Serena standing up ahead. She’s talking to an older woman, whom I guess is her mother.
I move off the path and onto the grass, fully intended on giving them a wide berth.
“Oh, Layla,” Serena says, her voice so damn sweet it’s giving me a stomach ache. “Let me introduce you.”
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes, and remembering my manners, I plaster a smile to my face and turn to face them.
The older woman’s eyes make a sweeping motion over me, and then her mouth sets in a hard line.
Yep, definitely mother and daughter.
With an angelic smile, Serena says, “This is Clare Reyes, Falcon’s mother.”
Shhhiiiiitttttt.
My heart starts to beat faster while my mind tries to play catch up.
I take a step forward and hold my hand out to Mrs. Reyes. “It’s a pleasure meeting you.”
Serena leans into Mrs. Reyes, and says, “This is the girl I told you about, Layla Shepard.”
Mrs. Reyes glances down at my hand with disdain before bringing her eyes to mine.
Feeling extremely uncomfortable, I pull my hand back.
This is so bad. So very, very bad.
“Serena-dear,” Mrs. Reyes practically coos, “let me have a moment alone with Miss Shepard. When I’m done, we can go for lunch.”
“I’ll go to the restaurant and have them chill your favorite wine,” Serena offers.
“That would be marvelous.”
Be strong, Layla.
You’re Stephanie and Rob’s daughter.
You have nothing to be ashamed of.
Mrs. Reyes begins to walk past me. “Let’s sit under the tree. I have no intention of having this talk out in the sun.”
I follow her to the wrought iron bench and wait for her to sit down. I lower my bag to the grass but remain standing.
With an uninterested expression, she gestures to the seat next to her. “Sit down. I have no intention of looking up at you.”
“I’ll stand.”
She glances at the library, then her gaze sweeps over the campus, purposely avoiding me.
Don’t be intimidated, Layla.
Exasperatingly, she bites, “I’m waiting.”
“For what, Mrs. Reyes?” I ask, keeping my tone respectful.
“For what?” she scoffs. “You owe my family and I an apology.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, and when her eyes snap up to mine, I continue, “but I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
Her face turns to stone. Taking a good look at her, I try to see a resemblance between her and Falcon. Her hair has been colored auburn, which makes her light grey eyes seem like frozen ice.
They don’t look anything alike.
“You will put an end to this ridiculous façade,” she demands.
“I still don’t know what you’re referring to.”
With practiced elegance, she rises to her feet.
“Being inane isn’t becoming of you,” she snaps. “I’m not sure what your intentions are with my son, but I will not idly standby and watch you latch onto him.”
I take a deep breath, trying to not let her words get to me.
“I’ve seen plenty of girls like you. You’re young and moderately pretty, and you think capturing a wealthy man will bring you status and fortune. Not my son.” She takes a step closer to me and lifts her chin high, haughtily glaring down at me. “You –”
“I care for Falcon.” The words leave me in a rush.
“You think you do,” she scoffs. “You’re eighteen. My son is the prince of your dreams. I can understand how that can make you think you have something special with him.”
“We do have something special,” I state, not willing to stand by while she reduces our feelings to nothing more than whims.
“If you do not distance yourself from Falcon, I will take it as an act of war,” she warns.
“I don’t want to fight you,” I admit. “But I’m not willing to give up on Falcon. I promised him I’ll stay by his side.”
She glares at me for a long moment, then coldly states, “Then, so be it.” She begins to walk by me, but stops and slightly turns her head. “I’ll never welcome you into our family. Falcon will marry Serena.”