LAYLA’S POV
Alpha Strout’s gaze stay on mine, and the way he’s looking at me makes the one thought I absolutely refuse to finish feel less like a thought and more like an answer.
“I’m not going to believe that.” I choke out.
“Miss Foster—”
“No.” I shake my head harder. “That’s not possible.”
“I haven’t finished.”
“Then don’t.” My chair scrapes loudly against the floor as I shoot to my feet, several bodyguards glancing over.
Tears are already spilling down my cheeks again, faster than I can wipe them, and I hate that my body seems to understand something my brain is still desperately trying to reject.
“Whatever you’re about to say, just…” My breath catches. “Keep it.”
His expression softens. “Not hearing it won’t change the fact.”
“Please.” I beg. “Please don’t tell me.”
My knee
