CHAPTER 116: FEELINGS COMPLICATES THINGS

~LAYLA~

"Layla," Axel choked out in a raw voice. "I can’t... I can’t do this."

I stared at him, feeling a rush of mixed emotions: shock, anger, numbness; my body was still buzzing with the pleasure from seconds ago.

Confusion hit me hard, like a splash of cold water. "W-Why did you stop?" I asked, sitting up and grabbing the sheet to cover myself. "Did I do something wrong?"

He ran a hand through his hair, looking conflicted as he shifted away from me. "No, Layla. You didn’t, okay? It’s me. We can’t do this."

"What do you mean?" I snapped, the rejection stinging more than I’d let on. "We were both into this, Axel. You started it."

He sighed heavily, grabbing his shirt from the floor and slipping it on. "The contract, Layla. Remember? This marriage is for revenge, not this. If we cross that line, it complicates everything. Feelings get involved, and we can’t afford that right now."

"The contract?" I repeated, already getting anger. "That’s what you’re thinking about? While your hands were all over me? God, Axel, make up your mind!"

"Layla..."

"No, don’t. Don’t try to justify this." I pulled the sheet tighter around myself, feeling suddenly exposed in a way that had nothing to do with being undressed. "You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to touch me like you did, look at me like you did, and then hide behind some stupid piece of paper we signed months ago."

He reached for me, but I pulled back sharply. "Layla, I’m trying to protect us. Cassandra, Charles, they’re still out there. We need to stay focused on taking them down. If we let this... whatever this is, cloud our judgment, we lose everything."

"Protect us? Or protect yourself?" I snapped, standing up and wrapping my gown around me with trembling hands.

My chest hurt, not just from the sudden stop in our passionate moment, but because it reminded me that none of this was real. I was a lie... a fake. Everything between us was built on lies and revenge.

"It’s not like that," he said quietly.

"Then what is it like? Explain it to me, because from where I’m standing, it looks like you want me when it’s convenient, but the moment things get real, you retreat behind that contract like it’s some kind of shield."

"That’s not fair."

"Fair?" I laughed bitterly. "You kiss me like you mean it, touch me like you want me, then pull the contract card the second things go too far? Fine. Message received. Loud and clear."

"Layla, wait..."

I raised my hand to stop him from talking. My throat felt tight, and I could sense the emotions bubbling up inside me. "You know what? I’ll just go to my room. Goodnight, Axel... sorry, Mr. O’Brien."

The formality of using his last name felt like a slap, and I saw him flinch. Good. Let him feel a fraction of what I was feeling.

I burst out of the room, slamming the door behind me with enough force to rattle the frame. My heart pounded as I walked down the hallway to my own bedroom, feeling like each step was getting harder to take.

Inside my room, I collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The silence was deafening, broken only by my ragged breathing.

What was I thinking?

This marriage started as a deal, as revenge against my family, a way to rebuild my life, nothing more. We’d been clear about that from the beginning. No feelings, no complications, just business.

But tonight felt real. God, it felt so real. Like we were more than partners in crime, more than two people using each other for mutual benefit.

His touch... they ignited something I couldn’t ignore, something that had been building for weeks, maybe months.

Yet he stopped. He pulled away and hid behind that stupid contract like it was the most important thing in the world.

Was he scared of feelings? Was he protecting himself from getting hurt? Or was I just a means to an end, a convenient wife to help him execute his revenge plan?

I could feel tears starting to well up as doubt slinked in like a poison. If this was all an act, why did it hurt so much? Why did his rejection feel like a physical wound?

I rolled onto my side, hugging a pillow to my chest. The fabric still smelled faintly of his cologne, and I couldn’t help but think back to before things got complicated... before I started falling for my fake husband.

The realisation hit me like a truck.

I was falling for him. Maybe I’d already fallen. Somewhere between the scheming and the fake smiles and the carefully orchestrated public appearances, real feelings had developed.

And he didn’t feel the same way. Or worse, he did feel the same way but was too much of a coward to admit it.

A knock on my door made me freeze.

"Layla?" Axel’s voice came through, muffled but clear. "Can we talk?"

"Go away," I called out.

"Please. I need to explain."

"There’s nothing to explain. You made yourself perfectly clear."

There was a pause. "I’m sorry. I handled that badly."

"You think?" I sat up, anger reigniting. "You don’t get to apologise through a door, Axel. You don’t get to make me feel like this and then expect a few words to fix it."

"Then open the door. Let me say it to your face."

"No."

"Layla..."

"I said no!" My voice cracked, and I hated how vulnerable I sounded. "Just leave me alone. Please."

Another long pause. "Okay. But we need to talk about this eventually. We can’t just pretend it didn’t happen."

"Watch me," I muttered, though I wasn’t sure if he heard.

His footsteps retreated down the hallway, and I was alone again with my thoughts and my hurt feelings.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, needing a distraction. The screen lit up with notifications: emails, news alerts, and social media mentions. I scrolled through them mechanically, not really seeing anything.

Then one headline caught my eye: "Cassandra Watson-Hart’s Trial Date Set: Sister Layla O’Brien Expected to Testify."

Right. The trial. The whole reason Axel and I were together in the first place. Revenge. Justice. Taking down the people who’d hurt us both.

This was what mattered. Not whatever messy feelings I’d developed. Not the way my body still ached for his touch. Not the way my heart broke a little more with each passing second.

I set the phone down and closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep. But all I could see was Axel’s face, the conflict in his eyes, the way he’d pulled away like I’d burned him, and the careful distance he’d put between us.

Tomorrow, I’d face him with my armour back in place. Tomorrow, I’d remember this was all business, all strategy, all fake.

But tonight, I let myself cry into my pillow, mourning something that never really existed in the first place.