Chapter 531 A Drinking Partner

Laila, meanwhile, was busy instructing an omega on exactly how Viola wanted the guests settled for the night, though privately, she thought those two particular aunties deserved beds full of nails and a roof left wide open to let the snow pour straight in. Still, she held her tongue, unwilling to risk Viola’s reputation over it.

Since losing Zoe, Laila had come to understand the real value of friendship in a way she never had before, and she had no intention of losing this circle of women she’d found herself part of now. She did everything she could to help and support Viola, wherever it was needed.

As she finished giving her instructions, she sensed her mother approaching and dismissed the omega, turning around just in time to receive a sharp slap across the face.

“I don’t deserve to be treated that way out there, Laila. How could you humiliate me in front of my friends like that?” Her mother demanded, fully aware that Becky and her sister were still listening in, waiting to hear her properly discipline her daughter.

As much as Agnes loved her daughter, she valued her public image even more and didn’t want any more shade cast on their family after all the shade it had suffered over the past month, but Laila was dragging things up again.

Laila, who hadn’t seen the slap coming, stared at her mother in complete disbelief. “And did I deserve—”

“Don’t you dare say another word to me, young lady. When I speak, you listen, do you understand me?” Agnes warned sternly. “Your father and I have told you time and time again to stay away from the Luna, to stop trailing after her like a shadow and build a life of your own. Do you honestly think any man will want you, carrying on with that attitude? We’re only trying to correct you, and all you do is bite the hand trying to help you.”

Laila’s eyes drifted down the hallway, catching sight of her mother’s friend lingering there, and she looked back at her mother, a bitter smile pulling at her lips.

“I see exactly what this is now. Trying to impress your friends, prove you still have some kind of control over me, right?” Laila laughed, even as something sharp twisted in her chest at the thought.

“Do you remember, Mom, back when Uncle was still around, how you handed that control straight over to him? Let him mistreat me, run my whole life? He hit me, beat me, whenever I didn’t do exactly what he wanted, and not once did you step in and be my mother, because you were too afraid of him. And now, suddenly, today, you want to put on this performance of what a good mother you are.” Laila laughed again, the sound bitter and hollow, since she could never forget how completely her uncle had once controlled every part of her, to some extent ruined her childhood with thought of powers and position.

Agnes’s eyes trembled at that, though she refused to let her daughter’s words shake her, telling herself everything she’d ever done had been for the girl’s own good, that her brother had always had his own way of bringing good fortune to the family, even if it hadn’t looked like.

“I am still your mother, Laila. And you will do as I say and apologize to them. Who knows, one of their sons might still want you as a mate, you don’t get to disrespect people like this. You’re twenty-seven, unmated, and you—”

“Mom, you and your friends can go eat shit. I don’t give a fuck. And as for their sons, if every other man on this earth disappeared and theirs were the only ones left, I’d rather stay unfucked for the rest of my life. And next time they talk shit about my friend again, I’ll disrespect them just the same, every single time.” Saying that, Laila turned away from her mother and walked off, wiping angry tears from the corners of her eyes.

Laila didn’t care what her words left behind, didn’t care what impression she’d made on anyone in that hallway, who would talk about her. She made her way out of that part of the building entirely, heading toward the other wing, walking down a long corridor until she came to a stop in front of a black door.

Reaching out, she typed in the password, one she’d never expected to need, one that had never had any real reason to be given to her in the first place, and stepped inside his penthouse.

The door closed behind her, and the sound brought the owner of the apartment out from behind the kitchen corner, a bottle of water and a glass in his hands. He was wearing a light brown hoodie and sweatpants that made him look different, giving him a boyish appearance. He looked so surprised to see her that Gilbert blinked before he said,

“Hey.” He studied her and saw that she looked upset, but then Laila was always upset in his presence, so it wasn’t anything new. Gilbert smiled a little. “What brought you here? If I remember correctly, someone told me she had no use for my stupid door password.”

After Zoe’s death, Gilbert had found himself drinking on nights when he couldn’t bear his guilt, and one night he had ended up drunk in his office, where Laila had found him. After scolding him and calling him every name she could think of for drinking himself stupid, and not knowing his password, she had forced him awake with a glass of cold water poured over his head.

Gilbert had later given the password to her, and she had scoffed, rolling her eyes as she said, “I won’t be needing your stupid door password, because you won’t find me here.”

“Are you in the mood for a drink?” Laila asked now, her voice sounding less harsh to him as she walked into the room without waiting for his invitation.

Gilbert followed her with his eyes. “Drink? I’m not a good drinker, and you were the witness to that a few weeks ago. I quit.”

Laila turned to him with a small lift of her lips. “You can’t quit something you never made a habit of. Then I hope you won’t mind me borrowing a drink from you. I feel like drinking, and I don’t want to walk all the way home before I do.”

She made her way to his wine cabinet and grabbed the strongest bottle of wine she could find, the kind specially made for werewolves, of which only a few glasses were enough to get them drunk.

Gilbert watched her, setting his water bottle down on the kitchen island, wondering if the sky had bled to bring her to him for a drink when he knew every apartment in the building had its own wine cabinet and she could walk into anyone of them to grab a drink, but she came here instead.

He watched as she kicked off her heels and, without bothering to grab a glass, opened the wine and drank straight from the bottle, perching against the bar-like table of around the cabinet, something the doctor himself would never do.

Her red hair was tied up in a bun, and she wore muted gray like everyone else who had attended the memorial, her face free of makeup. Gilbert was suddenly hit with the realization that Laila Serrano had a prominent, freckled nose and freckled cheeks, pretty cat-like eyes, and fuller lips that closed around the bottle as she drank, her slender throat moving as she swallowed so casually.

The sight was so mesmerizing, so arousing, that he knew he shouldn’t be staring. Nonetheless, he couldn’t stop himself from admiring her.

One thing was certain: Laila Serrano was a very beautiful she-wolf, whether she was trying to be or not, and Gilbert felt completely disarmed.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Laila asked, tilting her head to the side, her brows drawn together.