Endeared (The Accidental Billionaires #5) - J. S. Scott Page 0,50

his gut straightened out. I think I’ll take him in to the vet and see if they can do allergy testing, so I know what kind of food to get him on. I’m thinking a really good probiotic, too. I’ll have to research—”

“I can help you with that,” I interrupted, knowing Owen would probably dig into the research nonstop until he knew Brutus was getting the best doggie probiotic out there. “I know a really good one. I’ve been looking into them so that I could donate them to the shelter for Brutus.”

“Of course you have,” Owen said with a grin as he reached into the pocket of his jeans. “I have something else for you.”

I sighed. Brutus had been more than enough of a surprise for one day.

One more, and I couldn’t guarantee that Owen wouldn’t completely unravel me.

CHAPTER 17

OWEN

I’d never seen Layla wear a nice piece of jewelry. Ever.

In high school, when most girls had their ears pierced and were wearing some kind of earrings, Layla hadn’t.

Since then, she’d obviously gotten her ears pierced, and she wore all kinds of funky, dangly earrings, but it was obviously cheap costume jewelry. I knew this because I’d never seen her freak out about losing an earring, and she’d done it twice while we’d been out doing various activities. She’d simply shrugged and said she could pick up another pair at the dollar store.

I guess her not having anything struck me as odd because, as poor as my family had been, my brothers and I had always pitched in to get my sisters something on special occasions, like their graduations and their sixteenth birthdays. Maybe those lockets and bracelets hadn’t been dripping with gold and diamonds, but they’d always been a little more special than dollar-store necklaces or earrings.

Why had Layla never had anyone to get her some kind of trinket? To this day, I’d never seen her wear anything except dollar-store earrings.

I handed her the box. “I hope you like it.”

I watched her stare at the red-velvet and gold box for a moment like it was a snake that was going to envenomate her.

“What is it?” she asked in a timid voice that I’d never heard from Layla before.

I released a pent-up breath when she took it.

“It’s just a gift. No strings attached. I just wanted you to have it. I guess you could call it a . . . memento.”

I crossed my legs and watched her face as she popped open the box, hoping I hadn’t made a mistake.

What if she didn’t really want to remember that particular day? At all.

“Please tell me this isn’t real,” she said in a rush. “It’s a Mia Hamilton box.”

I nodded, knowing she was looking at the fancy gold script underneath the top of the box. It wasn’t like she could miss it. The writing on the red velvet boldly declared the work A Mia Hamilton Original. “It’s real. Did you really think I’d give you something that wasn’t authentic in a Mia Hamilton box? I’d have to be a total dick, since I definitely have the money for the real thing.”

“How is this even possible?” she said breathlessly as she continued to gawk at the branding. “Her stuff is really exclusive and really, really expensive. Most people can’t get one, even if they can afford it.”

I knew people were clamoring to get an original from Mia, which was why my first gift to Layla had to be a Mia Hamilton. Hell, she’d waited long enough. Her first jewelry gift needed to be special.

“Eli is acquainted with Max Hamilton,” I explained. I’d been ecstatic when I’d found out that Eli had actually rubbed elbows and worked on some charity projects with Mia’s billionaire husband. “He introduced me so I could ask Mia to do this piece for me.”

The necklace was unique, and that was probably what I liked best about getting this from Mia Hamilton.

Once I’d explained to Mia that I desperately needed it for a woman who was twenty-eight years old and had never had a real piece of jewelry, she’d caved in pretty fast. The woman definitely didn’t need the money, but she had a good heart.

Layla’s face turned ghost white as she gingerly lifted the necklace from its bed of red velvet.

“Oh, my God!” she said, sounding like every ounce of air had whooshed out of her lungs along with those words.

I wasn’t quite sure whether that was a good “Oh, my God!” or a bad one, but I was