No Looking Back

Chapter 1

Layla's POV:

"Miss Abbasi! I wasn't aware you would be arriving today darling! Here to see your father?" Ms. Bishop at the front desk asks as I step into Abbasi Enterprises's entrance lounge. I walk towards her, my black heels' clicking echos through the extravagantly decorated lounge. Everyone seems to stop their discussions at the mention of my name, the oh-so-popular Zayn Abbasi's daughter.

My Dad's position as the CEO and founder of his company has always had everyone's attention on our family. Like just last week, some creepy guy with a camera had planted himself outside my family's estate's gates.

The moment I had stepped out to walk with my mother in our garden, we spotted him flashing pictures of us through the gates. We didn't know how to respond so we decided to just go about our business, talking softly so that he wouldn't eavesdrop and staying as far away from the gate as possible. Of course, we wanted to stay out a bit longer than we did, but the fact that a cameraman was there to capture it didn't make it seem worth it.

"Don't worry, Laylee, we can go to one of our vacation houses over the summer, then we can have some privacy," my mother had said, comforting me with her soft smile when we had stepped inside the house. I only nodded.

Of course, I was no attention seeker, but I really did enjoy the attention I got. But this, stalking my family, was so not cool.

Baba then had the camera-man escorted away from our estate, but it hadn't been the first time, and it definitely was not the last.

I had grown familiar with attention, ogling and wanting stares from the men and the envious glares or adoring glances from the women alike.

I smiled warmly at the good-natured receptionist as I approached her desk, trying to keep my attention solely on her and not on the uncomfortably quiet lounge.

"Good evening Ms. Bishop! Yes, I would love it if you could notify my father that I'm on my way up."

The receptionist laughed, "Miss Abbasi, please, I've told you so many times, it's Celia, dear, just call me Celia."

I give her one of my famous smiles, "Not until you call me Layla, Ms. Bishop."

This has been a running joke of ours. She refuses to call me Layla, and so then I, in return, refuse to call her Celia.

This has been going back and forth for years. Sometimes we would give in and informally talk to each other, but most of the time, it's just the non-stop teasing, but still formal.

She playfully rolls her eyes and takes out her desk phone. She presses the numbers to call my Dad's office.

"Yes, Mr. Abbasi, sorry to disturb you, sir, but your lovely daughter is here to visit you. I'm sending her up. Alright... alright thank you, sir, she will be up shortly."

She looks me up and down. She then proceeds to give me a bright smile.

"Speaking of the lovely daughter, you're looking very beautiful this evening, Layla."

I smile appreciatively, looking down at my attire.

I was wearing a maroon maxi dress with a black belt and black heels. I paired it with a black mini purse. I decided against wearing any jewelry but a gold chain. My make-up look this evening only consisted of a maroon lip, winged eyeliner, mascara, and a natural face look that brings out my facial features. The maroon had already contrasted against my fair skin. My hair was pinned back, cascading down my back in chocolate-brown beach waves.

Laid back, but a fashion statement all in one.

"Thank you, Ms. Bishop, as do you! I'll be going up now then," I then turn towards the elevator next to the desk. It opens and I step into the medium-sized, mirrored box. I turn towards the button panel.