(Skylar’s POV)
*
Two nights had passed since the incident of me punching Maxwell’s ugly face made headlines in the local news. I had increased the level of security for Layla, ensuring Maxwell would not even breathe the same air as her. I would not take any chances for Layla to have a change of heart to go back to that worthless i***t she had married.
“Dance” I had commanded a sultry looking woman to dance in front of me while slowly removing the barely there dress she was wearing. Each twist and turns of her body built an unspoken connection between us. The dance was an art form, where fantasies were explored, and boundaries blurred between us, in our private room.
In a few days’ time, Layla and I were going to register our marriage, and we would finally be husband and wife.
