Read Damaged, The Romance of Nick and Layla (Part 4) for Free Online

But no, I wait patiently for him to settle in, and while he does I wonder how the hell this man has the audacity to get into a vehicle at all, let alone with me.
    We ride in silence as I navigate to the drugstore, and I decide that apart from his vehicular safety I will ignore him as though he were a ghost. Just like his phone calls, like his text messages, and until early today, like I have for the past four years.
    He follows me around the drugstore aisles like a bodyguard, never more than five feet away, his eyes constantly on me. It’s unnerving, and I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose to try to wear me down, to get me to talk to him or even look at him again. My resolve is set, and even if his is too, I would bet mine lasts longer.
    I take my time picking out what I need, but with no clear plan in mind it’s difficult to gauge exactly what I will need, or how much of it I will require. It takes more than 45 minutes to pick everything out, and when I stand in line for the checkout he’s by my side, still silent, still watching me.
    Two teenage girls walk in through the entrance and their eyes go to Nick almost immediately. I can see their faces change as recognition dawns on them, and then their puzzled faces look to me and it’s as if they understand some big secret no one else does. One of them takes out her phone and tries to not-so-discreetly take a picture of us. I turn around so my back is to her, and let out an expletive under my breath.
    “Great.”
    Out of the corner of my eye I see Nick finally break his eye contact away from me and look towards the girls. I can practically hear them squealing with delight as he acknowledges their existence.
    “Hey, would you mind, please? Not now,” he speaks directly to them. He’s calm but clear in his intent. Don’t fuck with us right now . I hear them scurrying off just as the cashier starts scanning and bagging my items. He is either oblivious or ignorant of the fact that the famous Nick Hudson is standing before him, and within minutes I have paid and am carrying my bags out to the Rover.
    Bags secure in the backseat, Nick in the front, I make the drive back to the hotel, the ride devoid again of any sound or communication. Back at the Canary the valet takes possession of the keys once more and, drugstore bags in hand, I make my way silently through the lobby and back to the elevator, Nick a constant at my side.
    The elevator ride is short and uneventful, and as the doors open I think he might finally head to his own room. Instead he follows me. I can feel his breath down the back of my neck as I retrieve the room key from my purse and slide it into the lock. For a brief moment I wonder if it would be possible to actually keep him from entering my room, but somehow I doubt that will be possible. I try anyway, opening the door so there’s just room enough for me and before I can turn around and close the door his foot is in the way, blocking me from shutting it.
    “Please invite me in, Layla,” he grunts from beyond the threshold. Relenting, I open the door and make room for him, shutting it once he’s through. Before I can deadbolt it his hands are on my shoulders and he’s turning me around. He pushes me against the door and his mouth is on mine, his lips taking hold of my bottom lip and tugging on it with enough pressure to draw me forward into him. Apart from attacking him earlier in my bedroom it is the first physical contact we’ve had since before our second divorce. The familiarity of him, the way his lips seem to fit perfectly around my own, remind me of my hatred, and my blood begins to boil once more.
    Regaining my footing I push him off of me, and before I recognize my own actions my hand is making contact with his face. Hard, skin-splitting contact that forces his head violently to the side.
    “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demand, my voice barely a contained scream.
    “Oh, hi. You’re talking to me,” he smiles rudely.