considered the Fortalesa her home, and never would again. If not for her parents, she’d never have been there at all.
She was already parked and out of the car, the back door half open while she reached inside for her backpack, when the scent of her mother’s perfume filled the air. She turned into Ramlah’s embrace, dipping her head to cover the tears that filled her eyes. It didn’t matter that she was now a head taller than her mother. In an instant, she was transformed into a child finding comfort in the embrace, in the familiar scents and sounds of home. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it all until that moment. Damn it. I am not going to cry like a fucking baby.
“Laylita, mija,” her mother crooned, wrapping her arms around Layla as if she truly was still a little girl.
Layla straightened, which made her so much taller that she had to bend over to hug her mother again. “Mama. How’s Papa? How’s everything?”
“Perfect now that my daughter has come home. Come, close that door. We’ll have tea.” Ramlah waited while she slung her backpack over one shoulder, then locked and closed the door of the rental car. Linking their arms together, the two women strolled across the mostly dirt- covered yard.
Layla glanced into her father’s office as they passed. It was full daylight, and he was in charge of the Fortalesa, but the room was empty. Not a great surprise. He rarely spent time in his office. Ferran Casales liked to be on the wall with his troops, not sitting behind a damn computer, as he’d often said.
“Where’s Papa?” she asked, as they started up the stairs to the family quarters.
“Oh, he’s around somewhere. Now that you’re here, he’ll join us soon enough.”
“He still knows everything that’s happening inside these walls, huh?”
“I tell you, mija, he’s worse than ever. He’s hired many people to take over some of his duties, but I swear he’s busier than he was before he hired them.”
Layla dropped her pack in her childhood bedroom, then settled at the small table in the warm and sunny kitchen. “And what about his heart?”
Her mother didn’t meet her eyes. “His heart?”
“Mama, you said he was having chest pains. He should have his heart checked.”
Your father insists it was only a pulled muscle.”
“Did he see the doctor? Is that what the doctor said?”
“No. He did finally agree to see a doctor, and the doctor said . . . ” Her mother’s lips pursed as if fighting back the next words.
“What? What’s wrong?” She couldn’t believe even her stubborn father would ignore the most obvious signs of a serious problem. As for her mother . . . she’d always been too willing to go along with what her father wanted. It had always frustrated Layla that her strong and intelligent mother lost half her brain cells and most of her backbone when it came to dealing with her father. Ferran was not a garrulous man, but he was perverse enough to enjoy a good argument. And yet she’d never seen or heard a serious disagreement between her parents. “Chest pains could be serious, Mama. We need to catch it as soon as we can. Postponing will only make it worse.”
“Make what worse?” her father demanded, his boots thudding on the landing outside the door.
“Papa!” Layla went into his arms, just as she had her mother’s, but with a lot less care. Whereas her mother was a petite beauty, her father was big and gruff, with a deep chest and a voice to go with it. His arms tightened around her, still strong and hard with muscle despite his years. “Finally, you come to visit us! It’s a wonder you remember how to get here.”
She laughed. “A lot’s changed, that’s for sure. What’s with the new gate? At first, I didn’t think they were going to let me in.”
“You exaggerate. My people all knew you were coming, as does Lord Xavier. He’ll be happy to see you.”
That was one reunion that was never going to happen, but Layla didn’t say anything. If she mentioned it to her parents, they’d insist on knowing why. She hadn’t talked about her reasons when she’d left, and she wasn’t about to start now.
“Sit, amor meu,” her mother said, hustling her father over to the table. “I’ll pour you a cup.”
“A moment, no more,” Ferran said, sitting with a weary sigh.
“Busy?” Layla asked casually, dropping down onto the chair next