Chapter 3 : The Library Confession
931 Words
==Layla==
His father’s footsteps grew louder down the corridor.
Maddox stepped back instantly. The heat between us vanished in a second. He smoothed his shirt and put on that cold, arrogant mask again.
I turned and walked away fast, my legs shaky. My heart was still pounding from his words.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to walk into this house.”
Those words echoed in my head as I hurried through the mansion. I needed air. Space. Somewhere to think.
I found the library at the end of the west wing. The door was heavy wood. Inside, tall shelves reached the ceiling, filled with books that probably cost more than my old apartment. Sunlight streamed through big windows. It smelled like old paper and leather.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it. My breathing finally slowed.
This was all too much. The mansion. The money. The way Maddox looked at me like he already knew every secret I had.
I walked to one of the tall windows and stared out at the perfectly manicured garden. Tears stung my eyes.
How was I supposed to keep singing here? My dream felt small and cheap in a place like this. Would I even have time? Would anyone take me seriously now that I was suddenly rich?
I sank into a big leather armchair and pulled my knees up. For the first time since the wedding I let myself feel how scared I really was.
The door opened quietly.
I looked up. Maddox stood there. He closed the door behind him and locked it with a soft click.
My stomach flipped.
“I saw you come in here,” he said. His voice was softer than before.
“I needed to be alone,” I replied, wiping my eyes quickly.
He didn’t leave. Instead he walked over and sat on the edge of the desk across from me. His eyes studied my face.
“You’ve been crying,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” He leaned forward a little. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
I laughed bitterly. “Everything. I don’t belong here. My mom married your dad for money. Now I’m supposed to pretend this is normal. I had a life. Small, but it was mine. I sang in bars. I wrote songs. Now it all feels… gone.”
Maddox stayed quiet for a moment. Then he spoke.
“I discovered your videos six months ago,” he said. “Not eighteen. Six. A friend sent me a link to a small music channel. You were singing an original song in some dive bar downtown. Your voice… it stopped me cold. I watched it ten times that night.”
I stared at him. “You watched me sing?”
“Every video I could find,” he admitted. “You have something real. Something most people fake. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
My chest tightened. Part of me felt flattered. Another part felt exposed.
“Why didn’t you say anything yesterday?” I asked.
“Because I knew the moment my father told me about the wedding that you would end up here. I didn’t want to scare you off before you even arrived.”
He stood up and walked closer. I stayed in the chair, looking up at him.
“I’m scared I’ll lose my music here,” I whispered. “Everything is so big. So perfect. My dream feels tiny now. What if I never sing again? What if I become just another rich girl who does nothing?”
Maddox crouched down so we were eye level. His face was serious.
“Your voice is not tiny,” he said. “It’s the realest thing I’ve heard in years. Don’t let this house take that from you.”
The air between us grew thick. My heart raced again.
He reached out and gently brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb. The touch was soft. Almost tender.
“Layla,” he murmured.
I don’t know who moved first.
One second we were looking at each other. The next his mouth was on mine.
The kiss was desperate. Guilty. Shaking.
His lips were warm and firm. He tasted like coffee and something darker. My hands came up and clutched his shirt. His fingers slid into my hair, tilting my head as he deepened the kiss.
A small sound escaped me. Half moan, half sob.
This was wrong. He was my stepbrother now. We had only just met. But my body didn’t care. It leaned into him, hungry for more.
Maddox groaned softly against my mouth. The sound vibrated through me. His free hand rested on my waist, pulling me closer.
The kiss grew hotter. Tongues touched. My fingers tightened in his shirt. Heat pooled low in my belly.
I had never been kissed like this. Never felt anything close to this fire.
Guilt crashed over me in waves, but the desire was stronger. I kissed him back harder, scared and excited at the same time.
We were both breathing fast when we finally broke apart.
Our foreheads rested together. His eyes were dark. My lips felt swollen.
“Layla…” he started to say.
From the hallway outside the library door, my mother’s voice suddenly called out.
“Layla? Honey, are you in there? I’ve been looking for you.”
We pulled apart quickly.
My lips were swollen. My breathing was ragged. Maddox’s hair was slightly messed up from my fingers.
The knob turned.
- Writer
