The Billionaire’s Promise (His Submissive, Part Eight)

Ava Claire

Copyright 2013 Ava Claire

The His Submissive Series

The Billionaire’s Contract (Part One)

The Billionaire’s Touch (Part Two)

The Billionaire’s Passion (Part Three)

The Billionaire’s Heart (Part Four)

The Billionaire’s Girlfriend (Part Five)

The Billionaire’s Secret (Part Six)

The Billionaire’s Lust (Part Seven)

Part Nine-Part Twelve (Coming Soon!)

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for respecting the author's work.

****

The room was dead silent, the uncomfortable quiet after a gasp reverberated around every

square inch of the penthouse before settling back on me.

My lips were frozen in an O of shock and horror. My fingers gripped the edge of the table,

glued to it like it was the only thing that was keeping me from falling right to the floor. I could only

imagine the expression on Jacob's face. He'd been combative since his mother surprised us, stepping

off her gilded throne to dash what would have been a great morning.

Alicia Whitmore eyed me patiently, like she'd just asked me for the weather and not the

number that would make me walk away from her son.

"How much do you need to start your own business and forget this whole marriage thing,

Leila?"

I closed my mouth and swallowed, feeling nauseous. Her proposition was just as vile the

second time around.

I tried to steady my voice and managed to say something besides WTF. "Mrs. Whitmore--"

"Alicia," she interjected coolly, showing a crack in her glass facade. "I'm about to write you

a check for more money than the average person will see in several lifetimes--I think we should be on

a first name basis."

"You can't possibly think..." I covered my mouth, trying to stifle the cry that rose in my throat.

It's pretty obvious what she thinks of you, Lay.

"I think you're a smart girl.” She ran a quick hand through her short hair, black and gray

layers fluttering back in place. “Industrious. Why else would you sign a sexual contract with a man

you hardly knew?"

I could only blink, wide eyed and stunned. Her words were a slap across the face, the blow

red and stinging. The last thing I wanted was to show her that her attempt at hurting me worked, but I

couldn't stop the tears from flooding my eyes.

In a perfect world, I would have said that what Jacob and I had was more than words on a

page. I would have told her that this was our home and she didn't have to like me, but she would

respect me. And when she inevitably refused, I would have calmly stood up and ordered her to get

out.

My head spun with all the things I had every right to say. My defense was on the tip of my

tongue, ready to put her in her place. But I didn’t utter a single word.

I scrubbed my hands over my face, wishing this was all a dream. A nightmare. I knew

meeting his mother wouldn't necessarily be pleasant. Jacob told me about her preference for the

company of those worth more than God and in Alicia Whitmore’s book, everyone else was just there

to wait on her hand and foot. I'd been prepared for snobbery. An air of condescension. But not this.

"Mrs. Whitmore,” I croaked, trying to find some way to tell her that I would never take her

money and leave Jacob—without breaking down. “I don't...I couldn't…"

"I'm aware that this is probably a lot to digest, but I'm about to change your life, dear. Even

the craziest number can be made a reality." Her eyes slanted to her son. "If Jacob is making you

nervous, I could just leave it blank."

She said it so flippantly, like she was used to her pen making her problems go away. How

many people found their name on that 'pay to the order of’ line? What astronomical number did they

sell their soul for?

"Have you lost your goddamn MIND?!" Jacob roared, putting words to the hurt that rendered

me speechless. Anger tightened his handsome features. His aqua eyes were scorching flames. His

nostrils flared like he had red in his sights. His jaw was a razor’s edge, sharp and unyielding. He was

in a t-shirt and lounge pants but he may as well have been decked out like a gladiator, blazing into the

coliseum to defend my honor.

Alicia pursed her lips into a crimson line and turned her attention to him. "I've abided the

reception I received since I stepped through the door Jacob, but I will not tolerate your attitude for

one more second."

Jacob jerked up from the table. "My attitude? After you’ve come here and spoke of things

someone like you could NEVER understand--"

I snapped out of my daze, jumping up and moving to him. Things had already been said that

couldn’t be taken back and I didn’t want him to say or do something he’d regret. "Jacob, it's alright--"

"It couldn't be further from alright, Leila!" he snapped. "My mother has insulted us both." The

rage in his voice changed, cutting deeper, hurt ebbing and weaving in his tone. "I'm used to being hurt

by her, coming second to a man who couldn't stand the sight of her and believing that she regretted my

very existence because the little time my father could spare had to be shared with me." He shook off

my hand and took a step toward her. "I can take your bullshit. Years of dealing with it ensured my

immunity to your poison. But I will not allow you to hurt Leila."

"Hurt her?" Alicia snorted. "I'm about to change her life!"

I whipped to face her. "No--Jacob changed my life. And not because he gave me a job, but

because he gave me his love. I don’t want your money. I want your son." I crossed my arms, finally

finding my voice. "I think you should leave."

She stood her ground. "I don't believe your name is on the deed--"

"But my name is," Jacob growled behind me. "You can go back the way you came or you can

be dragged out of here kicking and screaming. I'd hate for security to dirty up your suit."

"You wouldn't do that,” she scoffed, flinging her bejeweled hand like his threat was the most

ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “Not to your mother. I’m your family."

His voice was cold as the grave. “What do you know about family? The nanny’s you hired so

you didn’t have to put up with me were more family to me than you ever were. And Leila? Leila is all

the family I need.”

I was speechless, my heart swelling in my chest. Hearing him say that...But the smile on my

lips flatlined when I saw the horror rounding Alicia’s mouth.

“You wouldn’t throw me out,” she said, repeating her sentiment from moments before. But

her voice was different now. Unsure.

"I wouldn't bet on my mercy," he said icily. "Not when you've come to our home and had the

nerve to ask the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with to stab me in the back for a blank

check. Leave." His voice darkened. "Now."

Alicia rolled back her shoulders and held her head high as she slid her checkbook back in her

clutch. Without another word to either of us, she turned on her heels and strutted toward the elevator. I

held my breath until I heard the doors shut and it signaled it was going to the ground floor. When I

exhaled, I was surprised I didn't crumble.

"Jacob..."

He spun me around to face him, holding me so tight that there was nothing but his arms, the

warm musk of him, and the steady rise and fall of his chest. A part of me just wanted to stay that way,

wrapped up in him with the rest of the world a faint hum in the background, but Alicia's voice

crawled back in.

Why else would you sign a sexual contract with a man you hardly knew?

It was only one sentence but in those words were daggers that opened up old wounds,

reminding me of the shame I used to feel over the way Jacob and I began and the reason behind my

promotion. I’d already endured so many sleepless nights, terrified that all I’d ever be was a

submissive. And even though I’d earned my keep at Whitmore and Creighton, the whispers and

silence when I walked into rooms still got to me.

I could care less what Rachel thought of me, but Jacob's mother? Her animosity was

devastating. Did she really think I was going to take her blank check, blow Jacob one last kiss and

breeze out the door?

"She hates me," I said hoarsely, realizing how important her acceptance of me really was.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I knew she no longer supported us, but I never thought..." His grip

tightened and I knew that he was hurting and he too was trying to escape in this embrace.

So I held on. I tried to relax. She was gone. He'd made it crystal clear that he loved me. It

was all I ever wanted. All I ever needed. But this dread, this overwhelming sickness was still

wrapped around my heart. This was more than just his mother. This was old shit. Mountains of drama

that I thought was in our rearview mirror.

Rachel Laraby.

I pulled away, tilting my eyes up to meet his warily. "She's back, isn't she?"

His brows dipped into a frown. "Rachel--you think she's behind this?"

"Who else would send her a public service announcement, warning her that you were about

to marry a gold digging skank?" I scowled. "That's classic Rachel."

He sliced the air with his arm, like he was banishing her from the room. "I don't want to talk

about her. If she was trying to sabotage us again, her efforts were futile." He pushed brown

corkscrews behind my ear, his hands framing my face. "It's me and you, Leila. Always."

I nuzzled his hand, closing my eyes tight. Praying for this feeling to go away. To let go of

things I had no control over. I couldn’t make his mother like me. I couldn’t make Rachel disappear.

But I had Jacob.

He was enough—he’d always been enough. But I couldn’t dull the anger flushing through my

veins even though it was so clear that she wanted to get under my skin and make me doubt. Every

second I spent thinking about her was a point in her favor--and right now, Rachel was winning.

They say laughter is the best medicine...I was betting on something else entirely.

I covered his hands with my own, silencing my worries. I focused on the man standing in

front of me. "Kiss me."

He leaned down, brushing his lips over mine. "With pleasure."

When our lips collided, I breathed in his taste, warm with hints of citrus and mint. I gave into

the flashes of desire uncoiling in my belly, clutching how right it felt to surrender to his mouth. I let

his tongue roam and tease, melting into him as he caressed my lips with his own, clasping me to him

like he needed this. Needed to forget the last fifteen minutes; to forget that she was back.

My eyes popped open and I pulled away. I wanted him, but I couldn't get images of Rachel's

smirk out of my head.

The only way I'd get any peace would be if I talked to her. Not like before when I was

worried about her mental health, trying to ease her into the fact that she'd never have Jacob again. I

could care less if she couldn’t handle the truth--I was going to throw her face first into the fact that I

was not going to let her ruin us.

His eyes skimmed my face, souring when he figured out why I'd pulled on the stony faced

look of someone going to war. "Confronting Rachel is a bad idea, Leila. You know this is exactly

what she wants, right? To get our attention? To get in our head?"

I moved past him, forgetting about breakfast and marching upstairs to put on some armor of

my own. "Mission accomplished."

****

I stood beside Jacob, squeezing his hand tight as the elevator dinged, the arrow illuminating

and alerting us that Satan was in the building.

Since it was Saturday afternoon, Natasha had the day off and was busy sharpening her nails

to talons or making someone else’s life hell. I was glad that she was far from an over-achiever

because I was 99.9% sure if given the option for a front row seat to this conversation she would have

shown up, popcorn in hand. Dealing with Rachel would be tiring enough. The elevator doors hadn’t

even slid open and I already felt like I’d gone through a battle, clutching Jacob’s hand for strength.

“It’ll be fine,” he assured me, releasing my hand and tightening the knot on his tie. “She’s

going to admit she was behind this, cease her incessant meddling and then she’s going to get the hell

out of my building.”

He seemed so confident, so sure. And on some rational level, I knew he was right. Rachel

wasn’t the Boogeyman. She didn’t have any supernatural abilities or power that we didn’t give her.

In all honesty, I was starting to regret calling her to the Whitmore building at all. Jacob was

right when he said we should have let it go. Focus on what mattered. Focus on us. But there was this

niggling feeling, this itching thought that wouldn’t go away. We’d been ignoring her and that hadn’t

worked. What if she needed to hear flat out that she was wasting her energy; that she and Jacob were

never, ever getting back together?

But second thoughts were irrelevant. The chrome doors pulled back and revealed the one

person I’d be happy never meeting again.

Rachel was clad in a crisp, navy sheath dress. The rectangular neckline drew the eye to her

swan-like neck and two goliath-sized diamonds in her ears. Her chocolate brown locks were shorter

than I remembered, cut in layers with honey colored highlights glittering throughout. She pushed her

oversized shades to the crown of her head, her dramatic gasp of delight matching the smoky eye

shadow that framed her jade green eyes and the rouge gloss at her lips.

“Glad to see you two made it back on the other side of the pond in one piece.” She said with

a smile so big and phony it contradicted every single word. “And if the rumors are true, I feel so

honored that you left your love nest to spend your Saturday afternoon with me.”

“Trust me, I have about a hundred places I’d rather be than standing here looking at you,”

Jacob said tersely, glaring at her with such disdain that I felt it flowing off him in waves. “I’m in no

mood for games, Rachel. The quicker we get this over with, the quicker we can go our separate

ways.”

“Always business, eh?” Rachel purred, moving closer with long, predatory strides. She

tossed a look my way. “You and I know better, don’t we Leila? Jacob Whitmore loves to mix

business with pleasure.”

Jacob geared up to step in front of me, but I shook my head. “It’s okay.” Now that I was face

to face with her again, I was remembering that when it came down to it, she was all bark and very

little bite.

“You look well, Rachel,” I said with a half-smile, remembering a few choice reviews of her

latest film. “Especially considering what some were saying about your last performance. Phrases

like, ‘career ending’ and ‘soulless’ come to mind.”

She paused, her eyes flashing angrily like she was about to pounce, but she deflected the

blow with a laugh. “Can’t please everyone.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” I said with a shrug.

Her lips curled tauntingly. “You know, even if I never make another film, I’ll be remembered

for the award winning ones along with the stinkers. If you dropped off the face of the Earth, you’d just

be the overweight secretary that Jacob Whitmore dated that one time.”

“Wow,” I chuckled sarcastically. “Less than five minutes have passed and you’re already

calling me fat. I’d say I was surprised, but I’d be lying.”

“Oh you ain’t seen NOTHING yet.”

“This was a mistake,” Jacob ripped in hotly. “If you think I’m going to stand here and let you-

-”

“It’s okay,” I repeated tightly, not wanting him to fight this battle for me. I couldn’t handle his

mother, but I could handle this spoiled celebutante. Hearing her disparage me, trying to make me feel

little just proved how insecure she really was. Why else would she waste her seemingly precious

time trying to break up my relationship? “We’re not here to trade barbs. I’ll concede right now--

you’re far better at being a bitch than I am. Congratulations. We’re here to talk about what you’ve

been up to.”

She cocked her head to the side, playing dumb. “You want to know I’ve been up to?

Shopping, reading scripts, spa day here and there--”

“Cut the bullshit, Rachel!” Jacob snapped.

Even though Rachel was doing her best Innocent Bystander, she shifted uncomfortably

beneath his glare before she brought out the claws. “Are we really talking bull because I have a

laundry list. I pay this firm’s astronomical fee and I’ve been relegated to the back burner. My

publicist obviously has a full plate, you’re always out of the office--”

“If you are unsatisfied with the Whitmore and Creighton experience, I would be MORE than

happy to recommend other firms to better suit your needs,” Jacob said without pause.

“Oh you’d love that wouldn’t you?” she said with a frown. “To get rid of me, pretend that we

never happened and I was just some speed bump on the road to Happily Ever After?”

Something in her voice caught me off guard. It was more than petty jealousy or the petulant

tantrum of a starlet used to getting everything she wanted. It reminded me of the way her eyes roped

him in, lost in a memory when they shared a moment at the press conference. It was the look of

someone whose heart was breaking.

“What I would love is your comprehension and acceptance that the past is the past and I want

absolutely nothing to do with you,” Jacob said acidly.

I cleared my throat and tried to snuff out the burning questions my own insecurity drummed

up. “A-And I’d like it if you stopped lying to Jacob’s mother.”

“Lying?” Rachel snorted. “I’m the only person in this room that’s telling the truth.”

Jacob had enough. “You psychotic--”

“Jacob, let it go,” I hissed, standing between them, knowing a straight line from him to her

could be disastrous. From our run-in with his mother, I knew it wouldn't take much to rocket him from

simmer to full-on boil. And as much as I just wanted to shake Rachel until her teeth rattled, tough

words being exchanged wouldn’t make her see anything. If nothing else, it would just ensure that we

just got hoarse yelling back and forth, teeth bared, dangerously close to doing something that would

land someone in jail for assault. That wouldn’t solve our problem; it would just create a new mess of

them.

So I gave her the audience she obviously needed, despite the tiny voice that reminded me that

the last time I attempted to listen to Rachel, it didn’t fix a damn thing. “What do you mean you’re the

only one telling the truth?”

She didn’t waste a single moment wondering why I didn’t want to throw her out on her ass.

“First off, you’re lying to yourself thinking that he’s not going to get tired of you. That your novelty

won’t wear off. You’re not the first spunky chick that’s caught his eye and I would bet every cent I

possess that you won’t be his last.”

I was already regretting letting her run off at the mouth. Not because I feared she’d uncovered

some deep, dark fear but because it was just the same old song on a different day.

I’d spent precious time wondering if Jacob and I had an expiration date, worrying that at

some terrible moment he’d wake up and realize that somewhere out there his perfect match was

waiting; someone who rivaled him in the looks department, setting fire to every magazine page or

blog that held images of them.

But I didn’t entertain those thoughts anymore because I knew that every time he looked at me

it was like he was seeing me for the first time. In his eyes I saw that he couldn't believe how lucky he

was. Like he was falling in love all over again. My faults, his faults, and other people’s expectations

didn’t stand a chance when face to face with the way he loved me. I’d always have moments when I

wondered how the hell I got so lucky--but so did he.

Her truth wasn’t some sagely observation--it was the demented ramblings of a desperate

woman. “You were right, Jacob.” I faced him with a sigh. “We never should have seen her.”

Jacob pressed his lips against my forehead and reached for the phone on Claudia’s desk. “I’ll

have security escort her to the parking deck.”

I was so frustrated that I’d given her what she wanted yet again. She obviously wouldn’t

know the truth if it smacked her upside the head and if I thought she’d be straight up about talking to

Alicia or offer some insight as to why she was fixated on us, or one better, apologize, then I was as

deluded as she was. I just wanted her gone. I didn’t want one more second wasted on her or her lies.

“I did talk to Alicia, okay?” she blurted out.

Jacob and I exchanged a look of surprise. I was the first to turn back to her, pivoting slowly,

warily, like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. If Rachel Laraby was being honest, there had to

be some catch.

“We’re listening,” I said softly.

“I’ve had Alicia Whitmore’s contact information for a long time,” she continued, looking

back and forth between me and Jacob like she was afraid that if she lingered on one of us for too long

the jig was up. “Back when Jacob and I were together, he talked about how difficult their relationship

was. How rough things were when he was a child--and how they were trying to start over after his

dad passed away.”

I sucked in my breath, hoping the gasp was only audible to me, but I could tell that Jacob

caught it from the way his grip tightened.

His voice was low and adamant. “Leila--”

“Let her finish,” I said hollowly, feeling the familiar ache of worry settle back in the pit of

my stomach.

He said they were over before they began. If that was true and they hadn’t been close and

opened up to one another, how the hell did Rachel know about his relationship with his mother?

Why was she wielding knowledge that I had to pull teeth to retrieve and left me nowhere near

prepared for the shitstorm that descended just this morning?

I never thought I’d say the words ‘truth’ and ‘Rachel Laraby’ in the same breath, but it was

obvious that there was a grain of truth to what she was saying.

And that Jacob hadn’t been completely honest about their past.

But for someone that was a chatterbox seconds earlier she shut her mouth up tight.

“I thought you had things to share?” I grilled. “Lies to reveal? People to villainize?”

She put a hand on her hip, emboldened by the fact that I was giving her the mic at all. “I’m not

saying another word while he’s still in the room.”

“That’s rich,” Jacob said incredulously. “You call my office everyday with some emergency

or life or death interview that requires my assistance and now you want me out of here? Why? So you

can lie without me there to refute it?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” she said, dropping every word like acid. She pointed

at me. “It’s up to you. I’m not saying a single word more with Jacob staring like one look from you

and he’ll throw me through the window.”

I peered at Jacob and his cerulean eyes nearly bulged from his head. “You’re not being

serious. You’re not going to listen to anything she has to say, are you?”

“I just want this done,” I said, my voice practically a whisper. “I want everything out in the

open.”

“And you think she’s the one that will give you that? That she wants to end this? Rachel is the

very reason we’re in this situation at all!”

“And now that we’re here, what harm comes from letting her speak?”

“How about the fact that she’s certifiable and every word that comes out of her mouth is

toxic?” He looked at me like I was the one that was crazy. “After the stunt she pulled at the hotel, how

can you believe anything that she has to say?”

“Because I know that look she has in her eyes every time she stares at you!” I said, emotion

flooding my screech. It was the same one I had when I thought I’d lost him. It wasn’t the look of

someone pining over something they never had. It was the look of someone who knew exactly what

they’d lost.

I couldn’t focus on that and the hurt on his face, so I looked at Rachel, focusing on getting this

over with. “We can talk in the lounge area behind you. Jacob will stay here.”

“I don’t want him--”

“We can talk over there--” I interrupted fiercely. “--or you can leave.”

She frowned stubbornly, but spun on her heels and sashayed to the leather couch on the wall.

She lowered herself onto the cushion and crossed her legs, gesturing beside her. “You might want to

sit down for this.”

“I’ll stand.”

“Suit yourself,” she said with an eye roll. She drew a breath and began. “I told you about

talking to Alicia and I have another truth.”

She paused dramatically and I crossed my arms, so over this cat and mouse BS. “I’m

listening, Rachel.”

“I’m not over Jacob.”

I scrunched my face in annoyance. That couldn’t be her revelation. I mean…duh? It was

pretty obvious she still had feelings for him. “If that’s all you have to say, we’re done here.”

“I’m not over him because he’s the first guy that I ever said I love you too,” she continued,

biting her lip. “He was the first guy I ever saw myself being with, well, forever.” When she looked

me dead on, I knew she was about to say something I didn’t want to hear. “And when he told me he

loved me back, it was the first time a guy ever really meant it.”

****

“What do you mean you just walked out?” Megan said, peering at me like she must have

missed something.

I took the bottle of water she offered, even though I could go for something a lot stronger.

“I didn’t say a single word to either of them. I just got up, marched to the exit, took the

elevator down to the garage and drove here.”

“Huh.”

One word and just from the inflection in her voice, I knew she wasn’t stumped as much as

disappointed. It was the sound she made when I went through a hipster stage, wearing vintage dresses

that did me no favors. It was the single syllable she’d released when I swooned over guys that we

both knew would be a disappointment. She’d even grunted the exact same ‘huh’ when I told her I was

going to Venice with Jacob Whitmore.

“The thing is, when she said that he told her he loved her, I got this feeling.” I unscrewed the

cap slowly, staring off in space. “I felt like I was back in the hotel restaurant, barely over the fact that

this mega actress was sitting beside me, totally ignoring my existence and picking up her not-so-subtle

clues that she cared about Jacob. And he couldn’t possibly not return those feelings because she was

Rachel Laraby.” I chewed on my bottom lip. “How could he not fall for her?”

“I know you’re not going down that rabbit hole, thinking that you can’t hold a candle to her,”

Megan scoffed. “I swear if you start drinking that crazy chick’s kool aid-”

“It wasn’t that,” I said, only 90% convincingly. I took a swig before I amended, “Well of

course at first I thought I was a rookie playing in the big leagues. Rachel is gorgeous and successful

and I...I was still trying to get Jacob to open up to me. But back then, I immediately had this feeling

that what they had was more than physical. And now I’m frustrated all over again because I had to

collect scraps of how he felt about me, demanding more, having him add brick after brick to the wall

around his heart until he finally let me in--and someone had already gotten past his defenses.”

Knowing that he’d said those three words to her--it was more than infuriating.

It hurt.

I’d said the word before, generally out of obligation, because I figured that was the next step

in the relationship. You meet someone, they end up being cool, then special, and then someone you

don’t wanna be without. So when ‘I love you’ was exchanged, it was just the natural progression of

things.

But my relationship with Jacob was different. There was no courtship--it was just seduction,

angst, and a desire I’d never experienced before. Before him, love had always been an afterthought, a

checkbox to tick on a lackluster journey to nowhere. But with him, love possessed me and wouldn’t

let go.

It was dangerous because for the first time, I fell hard and worried I was the only one--that

I’d say it and be met with hollowing silence. I was terrified because now that I knew what true love

was, the idea of losing it was unbearable.

And Jacob, this stony faced man that I’d fought to let me see beyond the mask hadn’t always

been that way, like I’d been led to believe. He’d been capable of letting someone in. He’d been

capable of love.

Meg came over and dropped onto the futon beside me, snapping her fingers to shake me from

my trance. “I can tell you’re jumping to unhealthy conclusions.”

“Oh there’s no jumping required. The conclusion is within stepping distance. Jacob loved

Rachel.”

“So what?” she said, throwing up her hands. “That was then, Lay. He’s with you now. He

loves you. You’re the one he wants to marry.”

I heard what she was saying and it made sense, but there was a cacophony of questions that

kept rearing their ugly head. If his feelings for her were in the past and irrelevant, why wasn’t he

honest? Why did he lie about their relationship and make it seem like it was just a fling? You don’t

tell flings you love them.

I turned to her, biting my lip when I felt the tears rise in my throat. “I’m not trying to be

combative, I swear. I want to believe that this is all in my head. That it doesn’t matter. That it was

just an oversight and not proof of something sketchy. But this feels like something more. Why didn’t

he tell me that they were serious?”

Meg’s eyes shifted downward for a moment before she raised them back to mine. “I wish I

had an answer for you, but I think I’m the last person you should be talking to right now.”

“I should be talking to Jacob?” I snorted. “That’s clearly genius since he’s been so

forthcoming.”

“I love you Leila, but you are in no position to be casting stones in the tight lipped category.”

She arched a red brow pointedly. “It wasn’t that long ago that you were keeping things from Jacob for

his own good.”

“But that was...” I trailed off, the ‘different’ unsaid and a pathetic excuse. It really wasn’t all

that different. I’d delivered him on a silver platter to the Devil Herself because I thought I was saving

him from public embarrassment. And I tried to keep the meeting with Cade hush hush because I knew

how the very mention of his name made Jacob feel. Both times I was trying to spare him any undue

hurt. Both times were betrayals and we worked through it. So why couldn’t I power on my phone and

let him explain?

Megan gave me a small nod, her indication that she’d said her piece and would let me make

up my own mind. “So you met his mom?”

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. “Yep.”

“Your ‘psycho woman’ bit on the phone told me that maybe things didn’t go so well?”

I picked at the label on the water bottle. “Things started off great--she was in the

neighborhood and wanted to stop by and say hello, meet me and all that jazz.”

“Uh huh.”

“Jacob and I were about to have breakfast, so we made it a table for three.” I left out the

allusions about the contract and me and Jacob’s sex life. “She ate a grape or two and got right down

to business.”

Megan raked a hand through her hair, giving me an expectant look. “Which was?”

“Giving me a blank check if I left Jacob.”

“Huh.”

I peered over at her. Now I was the one that was sure I’d misheard. “Huh?”

“I’m not surprised.” I opened my mouth to rebut that but she added, “Let me finish. I was

surprised when I found out that less than twenty-four hours into your promotion you were going to

Italy. I was surprised when I read on TMZ that you were Jacob Whitmore’s girlfriend instead of

hearing it from you first. I was surprised that marriage rumblings were happening and I hadn’t even

met the guy. But an uber rich woman using her buckets of money to make a problem go away? That’s

not shocking to me.”

“So I’m a ‘problem’?” I said, nostrils flaring.

She narrowed her eyes and for a moment, her glare reminded me of Rachel’s. “I know you

and Jacob have been on Love Island, where chubby babies flit about and what not, but in the real

world, billionaires don’t marry their personal assistants.”

“A problem and a personal assistant,” I seethed. “You think that’s all I am to him?”

“No, I think he loves you,” she clarified. “But his mother doesn’t know that. She probably

just sees the help trying to marry above their station.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Was she really defending Alicia? “Jacob said that she

was happy, that she wanted to meet me before someone started feeding her information about me.”

“And that’s another thing that doesn’t surprise me,” Megan said with a shrug. “A crazy

woman acting crazy. Rachel didn’t do you any favors, but if you thought his mother was gonna throw a

luncheon in your honor, you were being a little naive.”

“So you’re saying I should have what? Thanked her for playing her role so well? Told her

that I totally understand why she insulted me because I’m ‘marrying above my station’?” I snapped

upright, not really wanting to be anywhere near her. “This isn’t an episode of Downton Abbey,

Megan. This is real life. This woman will be my mother-in-law someday. Grandmother to my

children. Sure, it’s not surprising when in-laws are at each other’s throats, but she wanted to make me

disappear. She thought so little of me, of my relationship, that she thought I could be bought.”

Megan stared at the floor, her nonverbal response her admission of guilt. No way was I

letting her off that easy--not after she just tried to excuse the inexcusable.

She slowly raised her chin until she looked at me, her face flushed red with shame. “I’m

sorry...I didn’t mean...” She cleared her throat. “You’re right. She’s sketch--and she had no right to

treat you that way.”

I relaxed slightly, still a little miffed. “Thank you.”

She wiped her palms on her jeans. “So what now? You gonna give her exactly what she

wants?”

I uncrossed my arms slowly. “Of course not.”

“Well, you’ve been eyeballing your cell for the past hour. He’s been calling?”

I nodded.

“And you don’t want to talk to him?”

“I do...I don’t...I mean...” I took the plunge and powered on my phone. When I saw the light

flash and indicate that I had two new voicemails, I knew they were from him. I needed to let him

explain. I wanted an explanation. But that would require either scrolling down my missed calls list or

going back to the penthouse. Option B was too much too soon, but Option A seemed cowardly.

I knew we needed to have a conversation, but I felt like hearing his voice and seeing his face

would make me forget how furious I was with him. He wouldn’t even get the ‘I’m sorry’ out before I

started apologizing. I pried my eyes from my cell screen, expecting to see Megan’s eyes round with

disappointment, but her attention was solidly locked on her phone. It was sitting on the coffee table

and she was eyeing it warily like it was going to jump out and bite her.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, grateful to worry about something other than to call or not to

call. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“What?” she said with a nervous laugh. “No idea what you’re talking about.” Her weird side

eye showdown with her cell begged to differ.

“Somebody bothering you? Mark?” I lowered my voice, practically whispering the second

name. “Brad?”

“It’s nothing,” she said firmly, finally loosening her grip on the phone--just long enough for

me to lurch to the table and snatch it up. The number I saw on the screen-- “Is this…”

No. The number was just similar. Because she’d all but told him to go to hell when they met

and I was stuck playing referee all night. She couldn’t stand him. She made it crystal clear.

I held out the phone. “Why is Cade texting you?”

Cade Wallace, the action star who couldn’t take a hint for weeks until it finally clicked that I

was taken. The same guy that she claimed she’d never date because he reminded her of Mark, the PE

teacher she’d dated—except Cade was twenty times cockier.

“How do you know Cade’s number anyway?” she snapped, yanking her phone from me in a

huff.

“Because it was my job to know how to reach him. Why do you know his number?”

She obviously ranked continuing this conversation below paying taxes and a trip to the

dentist, but she crossed her arms tight and decided to give me the smallest crumb she could muster.

“His assistant gave it to me.”

“And why did she give you Cade’s number? How did Lisa even find you?”

“It really doesn’t matter,” she said, trying for nonchalance and failing big time. She tossed the

phone on the couch, out of sight but definitely not out of mind. “You didn’t come over here to talk

about Cade. You came for my advice.”

This whole Cade business was too weird, but I was in no mood to pull off nails for

information. I’d find out what was going on between Meg and Cade after I figured out what was going

on with me and Jacob. “Alright--what’s your advice?”

“If you can’t let it go, find out why he kept his relationship with Rachel from you.” She gave

me a long, soulful look. “But here’s my real advice. He loves you and you love him. Hold onto that.

Don’t let the past dictate your future.”

****

I walked into the conference room with two minutes on the clock, knowing that all the chairs

in the room would be occupied except for the ones near the door. It’s what I was going for, needing to

be far enough away from Jacob that I could try and focus on the meeting and not the stifling tension

between us.

I didn't take Meg's advice, though I'd gotten crazy close to going back to the penthouse and

emptying my heart. But when I hit midtown and a bus with Rachel's face plastered on the side huffed

and puffed beside me for a good mile, I just couldn’t bring myself to face him.

I'd zipped to the suburbs, dreading walking up the steps to my parent's almost as much as

talking to Jacob. I felt like everything would be scrawled over my face and Mom would gnaw at me

like a dog with a bone until I broke. But she just gave me a hug and left me with my thoughts--which

was almost worst.

I barely got three full hours of sleep, waking up intermittently, drenched in sweat, not

escaping even in dream. Rachel’s twisted smirk, the tightening of Jacob's muscles when he realized

that I would hear what she had to say haunted me. Devils, guilt, and hurt had me tossing and turning

all night and not even a venti mocha with two extra shots was enough to help me fake that I was more

than a zombie.

I lowered myself in a chair near the door and even though I knew I’d regret it, I raised my

eyes. Jacob's icy glare found me and softened like the seafoam that caressed the shore. His lips parted

slightly and in that moment, everything hung on what he mouthed next.

I'm sorry.

I ripped my eyes from him, guilt making me fidget uncomfortably in the confines of the leather

chair. There was no ridding myself of the weight of it, no balancing act or body contortion that helped

me relax; not when I was face to face with a hundred reasons why I should have answered his calls.

Because he was the love of my life. Because people made mistakes. Because it was hypocritical of

me to force him to carry this cross when he forgave me for my wrongs. Because a lack of sleep

looked good on him. Because the dark shadow of hair highlighted his angular jawline and the cadence

of his voice, deep and slightly gravelly, made me think about lazy mornings in bed.

His hair had a slightly mussed look, begging my fingers to roam through the dark locks as I

moved closer. Closer--it was like he was a damn city away and all I wanted was to press my body

against his.

It was the longest meeting of my life.

When the last idea was tossed around and the final client plan hashed out, I was the first to

stand up and take a step in his direction. I didn’t miss the flicker of heat in his eyes but it was snuffed

out as one of the publicists stepped in his path. I stood there awkwardly, worrying that the smile was

pulled to tightly on my lips, that my black pencil skirt and emerald green blouse were somehow

transparent and everyone could see exactly what Jacob Whitmore did to me--swollen nipples,

sopping panties and all.

I had to sink my teeth into my bottom lip to quiet the laugh when I saw how he kept trying to

extricate himself but people kept popping up with questions and issues. I brought my hand to my neck,

massaging the kinks from sleeping on my old bed. After experiencing Jacob’s bed, everything else

was like sleeping on the floor. And now I was back to thinking about beds and the man that kept

stealing lusty glances at me. God, I wanted to be tied up and tied down, needed his tongue on my

flesh--

“Wanna grab a cup of coffee?”

The question jolted me from my fantasy and I turned toward the voice, sure the invite was

directed to someone other than me. Missy was standing a few feet away, her tight features more

relaxed than usual because of the soft brown braid that spilled over one shoulder and the light makeup

on her face. She was even wearing a blush colored blouse and wide leg trousers instead of her usual

tailored, dark colored suits. But a makeover was one thing--talking to the chick she’d had it out for

since day one was truly bizarre.

I tilted from Jacob, eyeing her skeptically. “Coffee? Me and you?”

She raised an eyebrow before gesturing at the absence of anyone else in our near vicinity.

“Yes.” Her lips spread into a grin, finally realizing the obvious. We weren’t friends--why would she

want to do anything with me that wasn’t absolutely, positively necessary? “I haven’t been the nicest

person to you, have I?”

“Not really.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

Record scratch. Did Missy Diaz just apologize to me? I almost pinched myself to make sure I

wasn’t slumped over in my chair in the back, out cold.

“No pressure. If you aren’t interested--”

“Are you kidding? I’m riveted...and also worried that you might put something in my coffee.”

She laughed, her face lighting up. “I heard you were funny.” She shrugged her shoulder. “You

know what, nevermind.”

“No,” I said quickly, not wanting to walk away from this white flag even if I was a little

suspicious. I paused at the door and saw Jacob was still deep in conversation before I let her lead the

way. “I could actually go for a cup.”

By the looks that were thrown our way as we walked to the elevator, I wasn’t the only one

surprised we were side by side by choice. I awkwardly reached for conversation topics to alleviate

the silence.

“So I’m pretty excited about working with Mia Kent.” I mentally facepalmed. Mia was first

on the docket, a newly twenty-one actress who had her start in kid-friendly fare. But after she hit

eighteen and had a couple of projects bomb, she’d been on a publicly documented downward spiral.

From shaving off her signature blond locks, piercing every visible surface, and making a series of

really bad and permanent choices in both the tattoo and romance department, she was sinking fast.

While a lot of Whitmore and Creighton's clients just wanted to maintain their image, there were others

that came to us to save it. Mia, unfortunately, was in the latter category.

“I didn’t mean that nearly as insensitive as it came out,” I said, stepping in the elevator and

suddenly wanting this whole coffee break to fastforward.

“I know what you meant,” Missy said, stepping in after me and punching the floor number. “I

took my little sister to one of her concerts a few years back. A stadium full of squealing teen girls was

not my idea of a good time,” she shuddered, “But her show was actually really entertaining. You

could tell she loves being up there and adores her fans.”

“Well, if we’re having Mia Kent confession time, I still put her ‘Songs for the Broken

Hearted’ CD on when I want to hate the world and rock out.”

Missy hummed a few bars, moving her head to the beat. “She had some great songs on that.”

The doors retracted. “She’s so talented. I haven’t enjoyed the things I’ve read about her over the past

year, but it’s like—“

“You can’t look away.” I finished for her sadly.

“Well, I’m excited about working with her too,” she said, pulling open the door to the cafe,

sending the warm aroma of coffee beans crashing into my senses.

I could just stand in the door and inhale that scent all day. The sound of the card reader

dinging reminded me that was gonna be the only way I’d get any caffeine since I’d forgotten my ID

badge in my office. “I’m gonna run up to the office and get my badge.”

“Coffee’s on me.”

I shook my head slowly. “That’s nice--” Never ever thought I’d ascribe ‘nice’ to Missy Diaz.

“--but I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s just a cup of coffee, Leila.” she said dismissively, staring at the menu.

“Don’t act like you haven’t been rude to me since the day we met,” I said feeling dormant

anger stir in my gut. “Like we can gossip and chat and you can buy me coffee like we’re cool.”

She glanced at me over her shoulder, dark eyes glittering like the Missy I knew and couldn’t

stand. “I’m trying to let bygones be bygones.”

“And I’m trying to tell you that I don’t know why you’re being nice to me, but I don’t really

trust you. I’ll have coffee with you, sure. But I’ll buy it myself. I don’t want to owe you anything.”

“Everything alright in here?”

We pivoted toward the voice, even the barista. Jacob stepped into the room, buttoning the

front of his jacket, zeroing in on Missy even though his question was a general one.

Missy let out a strangled chuckle, taking a step in my direction. “Leila and I were just having

a cup of coffee.”

She gave me a wide eyed ‘right?’ but I remained quiet. The more I thought about her change

of heart, the more I wondered if something else was going on.

My silence was all Jacob needed for his voice to harden to stone. “I think it’s best if you

leave.”

The sugary sweet became pop rocks as she gave me a final glare and sauntered out of the

room. Jacob walked to the counter where the young coffee slinger was frozen like a deer in

headlights. He pulled a fifty out and stuffed it in the tip cup.

“Take a break.”

The kid scurried out without another word, still wearing his apron. Jacob walked smoothly to

the door and engaged the lock.

I swallowed, figuring out this was less saving the damsel in distress and more forcing me to

talk to him. “I’m pretty sure that’s a fire code violation.”

“Nothing short of a fire will get you out of this room until I’m done with you.”

So he was holding me hostage. Even though I stood my ground, stubbornly turning my back to

him, my heart raced excitedly as I glazed over the variety of surfaces that begged for some tender,

love, and sex.

Damn it, I was still mad at him but I couldn’t stop my traitorous body from responding to his

like we were made for each other. Drawing the same breath. Feeling the electricity when he turned

me back to face him. Gazes molten with carnal need.

“I missed you last night,” he said, his voice low and sultry. “I forgot how lonely the bed is

without you.”

I shrugged his hands off, regaining control and kicking the desire to the backseat. “Don’t do

that.”

“Do what?”

“Try and be romantic and sweet after what you did.”

He locked his jaw. “Rachel and I...that feels like a million years ago. She means nothing to

me anymore.”

I flicked my hair over my shoulder angrily. “Nothing to you ‘anymore’--so you’re admitting

that she did mean something to you. Admitting that you lied to me when you made it seem like it was

strictly a sex situation.”

His body tightened defensively. “I think ‘lie’ is a very strong word.”

“What words would be accurate?”

“I may have just...left out the entire truth.”

Was he being serious? “I’m pretty sure not telling the whole truth is the definition of lying.

When I did it, you had the right to be angry but when you do it, it’s in the past and I should get over

it.”

“The situations are not the same and you know it,” he said tersely. “Rachel and I dated over a

year ago and yes, we were close and things got said. But that was long before I even knew you

existed. I was very much in the picture when you...” He stopped abruptly, pinching the bridge of his

nose and inhaling, exhaling before continuing. “What you did doesn’t matter because I forgave you.

Another key difference.”

“You think I like this?” I said shrilly, feeling the fight drain from me. “That I don’t want to

just say that it doesn’t matter? I don’t care that you dated people before me. It’s that you loved her,

Jacob. You were serious about her and you lied about it.”

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t honest, but I had my reasons.”

I put my hand on my hip, not letting him off that easy. “I’m listening.”

He stroked his chin then winced like he’d just thrown back a shot. “It’s complicated.”

“Then uncomplicate it.”

His eyes settled on me and for the briefest moment, I saw a retort ripple there but he

surrendered with a sigh. “I told you how we were together right after my dad died. I was a fucking

mess--I’d spent years hating the man, remembering all the things he’d missed, all the things he might

as well have been absent for because he made it no secret that he longed to live another life. A life

with Allegra.”

I remembered the story. Carlton Whitmore falling for a local girl while filming a movie in

Italy and pursuing her relentlessly--despite the fact that he had a wife and son back in the states. If that

wasn’t bad enough, he’d brought Jacob to Italy, playing house with Allegra until she got tired of

living a lie. If things were bad for Jacob and Alicia before, they were intolerable after Carlton lost

her.

“She told me she loved me and I froze, remembering my mother and father,” Jacob continued.

“I replayed how she’d say the words and he’d crush her with silence or a pity kiss or some obscenely

expensive piece of jewelry. I didn’t love Rachel, Leila. But that hopeful look in her eyes…I couldn’t

stomp that light out. I couldn’t hurt her. So I said it back.”

“You didn’t love her,” I said slowly, peering at him uneasily.

He shook his head. “I liked her. Even back then she could be a little much, but I enjoyed her

company. But love? No.” He came closer and I didn’t dare move. Not when the truth was still sinking

in and this unbearable weight was lifting. I wasn’t the fainting type, but I felt light headed, so

overwhelmed that I had to order my body to breathe.

“Are you okay?” he said, studying me intently.

I was so much better than okay, but I still didn’t understand why he couldn’t tell me that.

“Before, when you told me about Rachel, why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

“Because I knew I was falling for you,” he answered, his voice as soft as a caress. “And I

didn’t want you to know I lied about love before because when I said it to you, I didn’t want you to

think that I didn’t mean it. I didn’t want you to doubt that you mean everything to me.” He reached for

me, interlocking his fingers with mine. He looked down at our hands, slowly closing his fingers and

pulling me toward him. “I promise you, I’ll never love anyone else. Can you handle that, Leila? Can

you give me forever?”

****

I couldn’t ignore the fluttering inside me at his words. Forever? With Jacob? The answer was

a resounding yes.

As his eyes washed over me, like it had been months instead of hours since we'd been this

close, I felt like the dumbest girl alive. All the reasons I'd gripped to explain why I ran didn't hold

water to this. This pull between his skin and my skin. His bones and my bones.

I dropped my gaze guiltily. "I shouldn't have left. I should have let you explain."

"No, you shouldn't have," he replied, tipping my chin back up. His voice deepened. "And

you'll be punished. But not before you beg for it."

My eyes trailed hungrily over his broad shoulders, my mouth watering in anticipation of

running my fingers up and down his abdomen. When I made my way back to his face, settling on the

upturned curve of his lips, I knew I was dangerously close to bending over the counter and letting him

spank me right there in the coffee shop.

Just hold it together long enough to get back to the office, I told myself before clearing my

throat and gesturing at the door. “Maybe we could finish this conversation upstairs.”

He didn’t move from where he stood. “I own every square inch of this building.” His eyes

coursed over my body, bringing every last erotic nerve alive. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“But...” I trailed off softly, not sure I was following. “I thought...you and I...” My cheeks

blushed furiously like I couldn’t put words to something that Jacob and I had done so many times I’d

lost count. Like I wasn’t intimately familiar with the way he could make me melt with a look or just

by dropping his tone to the low, bedroom timbre that brought me under his spell.

“Oh we are,” he said, getting the gist of my unspoken words. “I’m going to have you, Leila.

And I’m going to have you right here.”

The pulsing between my legs intensified, but I couldn’t stop glancing at the door. I knew there

was no window to the outside and the lock engaging automatically illuminated the ‘closed’ sign, but

even the growing exhibitionist in me couldn’t shout down the part that would be more comfortable

somewhere that wasn’t a hundred feet away from staff.

“Don’t look at the door,” he said curtly. “Look at me.”

I glanced at him, but I still stole peeks at the door, hearing phantom sounds. What if Missy

was crouched there, ear pressed to the wood so she could talk crap about me? Why else would she

march out without a final death glare unless she was hiding behind a potted plant outside, ready to

spring?

“Jacob, I would really be more comfortable if--”

“That’s of no consequence to me,” he interrupted, silencing me with a stern glare. His hand

went straight to my zipper. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you during the meeting, wanting to bend you

over my knee and at the same time, needing to take you in my arms and tell you how much I love you.”

He unzipped my skirt and I shivered as it sunk to my ankles.

His eyes roamed over my lingerie and I didn’t miss the tick of his Adam’s apple as he

swallowed hard. I’d picked well. Almost like I’d been hoping for this reconciliation.

There was something about seeing the effect I had on this devastatingly attractive man that

emboldened me. I chewed on my bottom lip seductively, twirling a brown lock around my finger.

“So, which is it? Am I getting spanked or are you going to kiss me?”

My brazen remark made his jaw tighten, but it wasn’t a look of disapproval coloring his

golden features. It was conflict--like he wanted to do both. Ravage me and leave me breathless.

He ran his fingers through my hair, watching the curls stream between his fingers.

He leaned in, his breath swirling with mine and I was so lost in him that I closed my eyes,

wanting to hold on to the moment forever. Just as I slipped my tongue into his mouth, he slipped his

hand inside my underwear, cupping my sex.

My heart raced to my throat and fluttered back to my chest when I let out a groan of sheer

bliss. Jacob was everything. Nothing else registered but him; the way our lips fit together, tongue

dancing to the sensual twirl of his, savoring the taste of spearmint and power. And then there was his

hand, making it crystal clear that what Jacob Whitmore wanted, he got. His fingers pulsed at my

intimate slit, dancing just inside, making me grind my hips into him until I heard the sound of my wet

lust filtering up like sensual music.

He pulled back, his lips diverting to my neck. “I’ve barely begun and you’re already wet to

the bone. You want to come, don’t you? You’re so close.”

“Yes,” I hissed, my hair creating a wiry curtain over my face as I pushed my body forward,

wanting to let go. To give into the release. His finger entered my slick tunnel easily, but when he

added a second, then a third, I felt my body rushing to accommodate the girth. But with his mouth on

me, feeling his cock thumping as he struggled to keep control while teetering on the edge, all because

of me...there was no catching up. I found myself arching up to meet him and at the same time, feeling

so weak, so incapable of doing anything but succumbing to my climax. How could I keep it together

when I looked into his eyes, seeing a beautiful truth?

It was me. It had always been me.

“Jacob...” I groaned, assaulted by the sensations. I was losing my mind. “I want to hold

on...but I...I...”

He stopped, his finger retreating as his crystal eyes glittered mischievously. “You’re almost

there.”

I was still recovering, thighs rattling from the aftershocks of his touch, but I turned toward

one of the cafe tables and bent at the waist until my chest was pressed against the tabletop and my ass

was in the air.

A long pause followed my submissive gesture and before, I might have made that trust

irrelevant by looking back and seeing what he was doing. Unbuckling his pants? Pulling out some

studded paddle to wail on me?

But I maintained my position, knowing that when he was ready, he’d continue. And when I

least expected it, he would give me the spanking that both excited and worried me.

The air around me hummed, gooseflesh racing up and down the back of my thighs as he

moved closer. I tensed, sensing his hand hovering above my bottom. But when he made contact it

wasn’t the crack of my first lash. He was rubbing my buttocks, massaging it slowly, making me tingle

between my thighs.

“You know why I’m doing this?” He paused, adding, “Beside my obvious predisposition

toward domination.”

“Because I didn’t answer your calls,” I squeaked, feeling pangs of guilt undercut my arousal.

“It’s a little deeper than you dodging me,” he said, hooking my panties and slowly pulling

them down. He didn’t finish until they were at my knees. “I’m not punishing you.”

I couldn’t help but snicker at that. I was bent over with my lily white behind in the air. If this

wasn’t punishment, he could have fooled me. Still, I was glad that he didn’t catch the sound.

“If I wanted to punish you, I would have ended my day early and took you home. Strapped

you to the cross. But right now, all I want is for you to feel and know that you are mine. This isn’t

some infatuation for me. It’s not something I can just switch off. I wouldn’t recover if I lost you--and

honestly, I wouldn’t want to.”

The first last landed before I could promise him it wouldn’t happen again. The sting spread

over me, magnifying when the second settled on the side of the first. The third made me cry out and I

clamped my mouth shut. The fourth made me close my eyes and wish that I had a time machine so I

could knock some sense into myself. By the time the seventh happened my rear was on fire, my tender

flesh nearly to the point of no return and I was so close to using the color that would end the pain. But

when the eighth didn’t come and there was time to feel something other than the sharp edge of my

bottom incisors as I ground my teeth and my body pulled to breaking point, I realized that I was wetter

than before, my juices coating my inner thigh. If he asked me my color five seconds ago, I was pretty

sure I would have said red. But now that my pulse echoed over my heated flesh, want dulling the sting

of the blow and my nipples pierced the tabletop, I wasn’t so sure I wanted him to stop at all.

His voice was ragged when he spoke. “I need to be inside you.” It was a statement. The

sound of his zipper followed and I didn’t have time to brace myself as he thrust inside me. My body

clasped him and he gripped my hips, driving his length deeper. Every throbbing inch of him was

stuffed into me, forcing me to open up and give him more. And I gave him all, everything and it still

wasn’t enough. How was I supposed to stay quiet when my mouth wanted to shatter along with the

rest of me? My muscles howled as they stretched and constricted, as he rowed in and out. My heart

matched the volume of the table, making an unhealthy squeal beneath me.

The hands on my hips drew up and he cupped my ass, fingers pressing into the tender stripes

from my spanking and I let out a mewl that was supposed to be a no, but with him powering into me at

a whole new angle, it came out as a guttural yes.

“Yes what?” he said huskily. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.”

He pulled out and I scrambled to cover my misstep. “I just meant that--eep!” It was far from

my sexiest sound, but Jacob pulled me up, spun me around, and pushed me back onto the table, his

eyes wild and carnal.

He grabbed my legs and pulled me closer, until I was sure I was going to topple to the floor.

But he held me steady long enough for me to melt as he pushed back inside. The intensity was

different because we were eye to eye.

HIs eyes had never been so blue, his dark hair the color of a starless night and the need

flickering across his face burned brighter than any flame I’d ever seen. I wanted to send his buttons

flying, to see the planes of his abs as I gorged on the feel of him diving in and out, but he came

forward, taking hold of my wrists as he impaled me.

And I saw it, his climax rippling across his face as his lips twitched and his pace intensified

and he let go of my wrists and claimed my lips, repeating ‘come’ over and over as he kissed me so

deep he touched my very soul.

We came together, our muffled cries swallowed as our bodies shook and trembled. I was

spent but I wanted more.

I wanted forever.

I felt invigorated and he had to give me a playful pinch on the thigh so I could unwrap my legs

from his waist. Everything was better when we were lost in each other, just me and Jacob. As we

unbuttoned, zipped, and made ourselves presentable, the reality of what led to our tryst came rushing

back.

“What are your suggestions for handling Rachel?”

I frowned, not ready to hear her name just yet and not sure I’d ever be willing to handle

anything in the Rachel department ever again. “Handling Rachel--you’re asking me?”

“Yes.” Before I could ask why, he continued. “My actions directly affect you. I have no doubt

she would attempt legal action if I tried to end our contract a second time, but that’s a headache for

the legal team. You’re my concern.”

“Your headache?” I quipped with a smile.

“A beautiful headache,” he joked, his mouth curving into his own as he fixed his tie. “If you

don’t want to have any more contact with her, you’ll get no complaints from me.”

I repinned my bun slowly, thinking it over. To be honest, a Rachel-free life didn’t seem half

bad. But she wasn’t around before and look what she’d accomplished with Jacob’s mother. I really

didn’t want to find out what hell she’d unleash if she was removed from the client list.

****

When we stepped into Lucy's Taqueria, Jacob's eyes just about popped from his skull. He

took in the festive atmosphere before looking at me like I'd lost my mind.

"You said one of my favorite restaurants in the city," I said with a wink. "And I asked if

casual was okay."

"Sure, but I had no idea that this was what you meant," he said, eyeing the room skeptically.

"It's got character!"

"Not the word I'd use."

The hostess spun to face us and when she saw Jacob, her whole demeanor changed from her

usual clipped, ‘I’ve got much better things to do’ attitude. “How may I help you?”

So apparently she was capable of acknowledging a person’s existence--if that person was

male, gorgeous, and significantly overdressed for the cantina fare Lucy’s served.

I ignored the slight and scanned the room until I saw Megan. “Our friend already got us a

table.” I breezed past the pouting woman, Jacob at my side and completely oblivious to the fact that

he was drawing every female eye in the place.

“Friend?” Jacob repeated, his deep voice edged with wariness. “You didn’t tell me someone

would be joining us.”

“She’s very important to me, Jacob--and this meeting is long overdue.”

Whispers hissed around us as the diners realized Jacob wasn’t just a sexy guy in a suit and

tie. Megan looked up from the menu, her olive eyes registering us before she gave a wave. Cameras

were already flashing by the time I made it to the table and leaned in to hug her before beginning the

introductions.

“Megan, this is Jacob.”

She held out her hand, regarding him slowly before quirking her lips into a smile. “I was

starting think I wouldn’t meet you until you two walked down the aisle.”

Jacob gave her a hand a hearty shake and from the smile teasing his lips, I could already tell

he liked her. “And what if we decided to elope?”

She didn’t blink. “I would have met you when I boarded your fancy jet on the way to some

exotic locale. Leila and I have been planning our fictional weddings since freshman year and while

our themes and grooms have changed, we’re always standing by each other’s side.”

Jacob glanced at me, his eyes warm. “Leila’s lucky to have you.”

“I am,” I said, still blushing furiously at the shout-out to PJ clad nights with some Lifetime

movie on in the background and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s between us as we talked about how lavish

our dream weddings would be. “So we should probably order drinks--”

“I’d love to hear more about Leila’s dream wedding,” Jacob interjected. “For research

purposes.”

I tried to send Megan a silent plea, but she ignored it, tilting her head and drumming her

fingertips on her chin, lost in thought. “She had a couple of mainstays--married at the beach and

married in the country.”

Jacob’ hand found my thigh beneath the table and he stroked the inner seam, making me tingle

around his touch. “Beach, huh?” The way his voice strummed the words, I could almost imagine

myself on some private oasis, sand beneath my feet as the sea breeze whipped my dress around me.

The sultry heat would glisten on my warm skin as I made my way to him, standing beneath the stars.

But that was the only appealing part of my hypothetical ceremony. The rest was the teeth-rottingly

sweet musings of a girl who watched way too many romantic movies.

“Tiki torches,” Megan continued, recounting my beach fantasy. “A crapton of them, lining the

aisle. And the rose petals would decorate the runner and flutter across her massive train--”

“A train?” Jacob said with a look of surprise. “I wouldn’t have guessed Leila was a train

kind of bride.”

“That’s because I’m not!” I said, my cheeks red-hot with embarrassment.

“News to me,” Megan said playfully, not letting up. “I seemed to remember that was on your

must list. Along with a peony tiara and a full veil made of French silk tulle. And no ‘Here comes The

Bride’ for Lay,” she added, shaking her head firmly. “She wants a ukulele to pluck out Etta James.”

I’ve never been so happy to see a waiter in all my life. We ordered a round of drinks and a

sampler appetizer, giving me a small reprieve from the walk down Memory Lane.

“So how’s school been so far this week?” I asked as soon as the waiter turned on his heel

and headed to put in our order.

Megan threw me a bone, smiling briefly before she followed the detour of the conversation.

“School’s great. I got to dust off my Schoolhouse Rock videos and the kids love them.”

Jacob opened his mouth just as lights from the cameras erupted around us. Even though he’d

been smiling and joking with Megan, I could tell he was getting agitated. The restaurants he was

accustomed to valued their customer’s privacy and had policies in place to keep the paparazzi and

would-be photographers at bay. When the chatter hit a fever pitch, the camera flashes like strobe

lights, he whipped his head to the left.

“You gotta be shitting me.”

Me and Megan turned too, surprised by his outburst. While there were some patrons looking

in our direction, most of the cameras were trained on the entrance. Rachel was standing at the front,

posing for a picture with the hostess. When the camera flashed, she scanned the room, stopping when

she saw us, painting on a big smile and waving.

She absolutely, positively wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

“Please tell me that isn’t who I think it is,” Megan said slowly.

I couldn't even respond. Not that I needed to. We all knew exactly who it was and why she

was gracing us with her presence.

She walked through the restaurant, her fire engine red dress dancing like flames around her.

She smiled and waved like she was on a parade float. Center of attention. All eyes on the Queen.

When she stepped up to our table, bright eyed and bushy tailed, Jacob didn’t bother with

niceties.

“You need to leave, Rachel.”

Her glittering facade didn’t even dim. “Leave? But I just got here.”

Completely ignoring the awkward silence, our waiter hustled over, bringing Rachel a chair

with cartoon hearts in his eyes. “If you need anything, anything at all...”

“Gracias,” she drawled, giving him a wink that almost made him faint on the spot.

Rachel picked up a menu from the middle of the table, gingerly tipping it open. “I hope it’s

okay that I joined you--”

“I think you know damn well it’s not okay,” Jacob seethed. “Walk away, Rachel.”

She flipped her hair, giving him a lusty look that made me want to punch her in the face.

“Jakey, we probably shouldn’t air our dirty laundry right now. Not with all these people around to

recount every detail to god knows who.”

I hated to admit it, but she was right. As much as I wanted to drag her out by her hair, it

wouldn’t do Whitmore and Creighton any favors.

I found his eyes and mouthed ‘we can do this’. He didn’t seem a hundred percent sure of that,

but he did relax slightly. But seeing Rachel sitting there, all but whistling with glee that she’d ruined

our dinner, I had to draw a breath and take my own advice.

Megan and I made eye contact and I opened my mouth to say something but decided against it,

not wanting another argument. I was so damn tired of expending energy in the Rachel Laraby

department.

Megan had no problem picking up the slack.

“Just who do you think you are?” she said, twisting her mouth in disgust.

“I’m Rachel,” she answered simply. She closed the menu and peered at my friend. “I don’t

think we’ve met.” She leaned out and fingered two strands of Megan’s hair. “Your hair is gorgeous.”

Megan wasn’t wooed, sweeping her hair to the other shoulder and out of Rachel’s grasp. “I

think I speak for everyone when I say we don’t want you here. Why don’t you stop embarrassing

yourself and go away?”

“Embarrassing myself?” Rachel snorted.

“That’s right. You and Jacob were together. Now you’re not. Get over it.”

“Straight to the point.” Her smile widened like she was impressed. “Like our Leila here, with

a bit more bite.” She tilted her chin in Jacob’s direction. “New assistant? I know Jacob Whitmore

couldn’t possibly marry his secretary. Or is Leila trying to spice things up?” She gave him a

conspiratorial smile. “Between me and you, I always got a very...colorful vibe from her. Caught her

checking me out more than once.” She let out an airy chuckle. “But honestly, look at me. Who

wouldn’t?”

Megan fell back against the booth, her eyebrows arched in disbelief. “I thought Leila was

exaggerating, but you are one crazy bitch.”

I could see the table a few feet away was staring and a couple of the diners mouthed the word

‘bitch’. I needed to keep this under control or we’d all end up in the gossip column.

I cleared my throat. “She’s my best friend, Rachel. Megan.”

Megan shot me a venomous look and I tried to send one right back that said, ‘not here’.”

“Aww best friends,” Rachel cooed, looking back and forth at us like we were six years old.

“That is so adorable.”

“What are you doing here?” Jacob bit off impatiently.

“I was doing a little shopping down on 55th when my assistant told me that he had a juicy tip.

Apparently Jacob Whitmore was at some taco place on 30th.”

And she dropped everything to come and stir up drama? Lucky us.

“I was in the mood for something festive, so I decided I’d surprise yall.”

“How thoughtful,” I said through clenched teeth.

“That’s what I thought,” she winked. “I’m just hoping it was a pleasant surprise.”

About as pleasant as a mouth full of nails.

The waiter came back and Rachel ordered a dish so full of substitutions that she was better

off creating her own menu item, recipe and all.

The rest of us picked at our appetizer and downed our drinks, hoping our lack of entree

would inspire her to go away and if not, we’d be so buzzed that we didn’t care.

Rachel grinned around her straw before taking a hearty sip. “Thanks so much for having me,

guys. What are we up to after dinner?”

“That’s it.” Megan shook her head vigorously, her locks singeing the air as she swished it

back and forth. “I’m not gonna sit here and act like this isn’t bizarre. And I’m certainly not gonna play

nice with the psycho woman that’s intent on ruining you, Leila.”

“Megan--”

“I get it. Appearances. You are clearly better at it than me and I can’t do it.”

Jacob pulled out his wallet and dropped a hundred and slid out behind her without another

word. I moved out to join the procession, but Rachel shot out her leg, blocking me in.

“You think this is over? That Alicia Whitmore is all I have up my sleeve?” Her face was hot

with animosity. “You think I’ll let you have him?”

I leaned in. “It’s been over. Now move your leg.”

“I’m going to be your shadow. Wherever you go, I go.” She gave me a withering glare.

“Watch your back.”

I vaulted from the booth, almost wishing she hadn’t moved so I could plow through her.

Flashes followed us out the door and we parted ways with Megan, promising that our next dinner

would be drama free.

“I had fun until she walked in,” Jacob sighed heavily, opening the car door.

“Me too,” I chewed on my bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”

He looked at me strangely. “Why are you apologizing?”

I reached out and closed the door. I was apologizing because I knew Rachel would never

apologize for what she’d done. And I had a sinking feeling she was just getting started. Rachel was a

lost cause—but I could still fix things with his mother.

****

It was no secret that Jacob thought I was wasting time trying to talk it out with his mother.

When she pulled open the door and looked at me like I was walking plague, I almost tucked tail and

ran. There was a part of me that told me no good would come from it. I’d open up and try and explain

why her proposition hurt and she’d answer with a shrug and a resounding ‘so’. Or worse--she’d call

security.

Her eyes took me in with disdain. “I’m assuming you don’t moonlight as a maid,” she said.

“Though it that get up...”

I didn’t get offended. I was sure she had much worse up her sleeve. “No, I’m not the maid.”

“Then why did you come here?” she frowned. “Did Jacob send you?”

“No,” I replied. “In fact, he told me coming here would be pointless.”

“And still you came.” It wasn’t surprise or admiration at my pluck--it was something else.

Almost like...curiosity. Still, she wasn’t putting out the welcome mat. “Tell me why I should let you in

and not call down to the front desk. I mean, my son pays well, but not well enough for you to be in this

building without a nametag and janitor’s cart.”

She was right. I’d been speechless when I stepped into Jacob’s building downtown for the

first time, but after I’d convinced the doorman I had business at the Clinton Hotel and stepped inside,

I’d almost reached for my wallet, sure I’d have to pay something just for breathing the air. With

towering marble columns and what I was sure was original framed artwork and sculptures, the place

exuded old money. I’d stuck out like a sore thumb and caught the attention of the manager

immediately. He’d breezed over, a tight ‘what the hell are you doing here’ smile plastered on his

face. He was geared up and ready to kick me out before I tainted the place until I told him I was a

nanny, there to interview with Alicia Whitmore. He obviously only heard the ‘help’ part and zoned

out the rest because anyone that met the woman knew she didn’t do children.

She was just as stylish as she’d been when we met, wearing a charcoal gray short sleeve

dress, a chunky silver locket necklace and black stilettos with metallic studs along the heel. She ran

her fingers through her chin length hair, black and gray locks glittering.

“I told him I was interviewing for a service position.”

“Hmm,” she said with a scoff of thinly veiled disgust. “Aren’t you clever? And why the need

for the cloak and dagger charade?”

“Because I care about your son and he cares about you. We need to find some way to get

along.”

She gave me a final once over, clearly searching for some reason to turn me away. With a

final tiny sigh, she stepped to the side, letting me in.

“Maybe you were still asleep when I stopped by before, but my son is no fan of mine,” she

said crisply before shrugging a shoulder. “I’m used to it though. Being a Whitmore is very lonely

business.”

If I hadn’t seen the hurt flash across her face when Jacob said I was all the family he needed I

might have believed her--even though she was trying to make it seem like her poor relationship with

her son was as monumental as a broken nail.

“I read the letter he wrote to you.”

She stopped, the vulnerability returning as her mouth worked but nothing came out.

The letter I read wasn’t something exchanged by two people who hated each other. It wasn’t

even the words of a family teetering on the edge, caught between wars of the past and hopes for the

future. They’d been in a good place and now they were back to square one.

She was quiet for a long moment before turning to the wet bar and pouring Evian into a glass.

She took the longest sip in history before she put the glass down and pivoted to me. Her face was

cleared of all emotion besides indifference.

“You don’t even have his last name and you’re already snooping?” She let out a bitter

chuckle. “My son is going to get exactly what he deserves.”

She was trying hard to make me think that she didn’t care, but I refused to back down. “I

know that your marriage was tough--”

“Tough?” She repeated the word like it was poison. “Tough is grinning and bearing it through

a party filled with people you can’t stand. Tough is finding your dream dress and wearing it to a

function where another woman had the exact same dream. Tough is finding a new stylist that you don’t

have to micromanage. My marriage wasn’t tough. My marriage was hell.” She paused at the mirror

beside the bar, but she wasn’t looking at her reflection. She was a hundred miles away, lost in a

memory.

“I knew Carlton Whitmore would break my heart the minute I met him. I was at some stuffy

event with my parents, my mother parading me around to every eligible bachelor in the room.” She

tinkered with her locket. “It was Cliff Kensington’s 56th birthday and we were all celebrating the fact

that his latest investments made everyone in the room five percent wealthier than when they woke up.

I was bored out of my mind when the door swung open and this God of a man strolled in with a

woman on each arm. Everyone over forty thought he was disgusting and everyone below was

mesmerized.

I’d seen his movies and he was more handsome in person than he’d been on the screen. HIs

skin was golden but it wasn’t from St. Barts or tennis matches at the club. It was the caramel brown of

a man that lived his life with the top down. A man who lived for adventure. He was like sin come to

life right in front of me.

Of course my mother would have rather chewed off her arm than take me over to meet him,

even though he was as wealthy if not more so than those in attendance. He was nouveau rich and it

was sacrilegious. And even though I had stars in my eyes, I snuck out on the patio to smoke and pout

because guys like Carlton didn’t go for sweet, society girls. They went for sex kittens like the ones at

his side. And even if he did, I’d seen the papers. Carlton Whitmore didn’t hold fidelity in high

regard.” She stopped toying with her necklace. “I couldn’t light my cigarette and there he was, his

bright blue eyes burning like flames.

Funny thing is, he told me not to fall in love with him from day one. He told me he’d break

my heart. But the heart wants what the heart wants. Even when he was sleeping with everything he

met with a vagina, I was faithful. I gave him a son that he barely saw and played the role of the good

wife that stood by him while he disgraced me with his trysts. When he met that Italian woman...” She

trailed off, looking at me in the mirror. “He was willing to give her what he could never give me.”

I shifted, not sure what to say to that.

She sniffed, elongating her neck. “I know you know about her. The fact that my son

introduced you to that...that...” Her voice caught and she looked away, gathering herself. Hiding away

the show of emotion. “You probably think she can walk on water. Jacob said he wished she was his

mother more than once.” Not even decades of pretending could dull the edge of jealousy in her words.

“I met her, yes,” I said quietly.

“And I’m sure she told you about her fairytale romance with my husband?”

I was trying to be understanding and non-confrontational, but I felt the need to defend Allegra

even though I didn’t agree with her past actions. “She cared about him, but it was never some

storybook romance. She felt guilty about the role she played.”

“Oh I bet,” Alicia said with a haughty snort. “He gave her all and would have given her more

but she didn’t want that.” When I frowned, her lips curved into a sadistic grin. “Oh my goodness--so

the angel isn’t quite so perfect. She left out the part where my husband offered up me and Jacob like

sacrificial lambs and said he wanted to marry her.”

With the story Allegra told me, she made it seem like she got tired of waiting for a

commitment. I had no idea that Jacob’s father was planning on leaving his family to start over with his

mistress. “I didn’t know...”

“Well, she declined. And here’s the hilarious part. I respected her for it. She was smarter

than I was. Stronger. I knew the kind of man Carlton was and I married him anyway. But not Allegra.

Not the love of his miserable life.” She glared at me. “Let me tell you about love. Love makes you

weak. And marriage? That’s a show you put on for the rest of the world until one of you gets tired of

it. Or dies.”

The last thing I thought I’d be feeling for Alicia Whitmore was pity, but there it was. I could

almost picture her, head over heels in love with a man that hurt her over and over again. How could

she go on? How could she grin and bear it as he stomped on her heart until it was nothing but

fragments of what it used to be?

My mouth fell open when things clicked and I saw beyond her brash play at the penthouse. Of

course she’d been happy that her son found love and wanted marriage despite the horrible example

he’d grown up with. But when Rachel told her I was playing some sort of game, that it was all a

charade, only the contract, of course she’d try to spare her son. Maybe her husband butchered her

heart and made her either or unable or incapable of being the mom Jacob deserved as a kid, but she

could do right by him now. She wanted real love for her son.

And I needed to convince her that’s what we had.

“I need you to know that I understand that in your own--” Twisted? Depraved? Asshole-y? “-

-unique way, you were trying to do what was best for your son. But I can assure you that Rachel

Laraby does not have Jacob’s best interests at heart.”

She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You can understand why I’m not

surprised to hear you say that. It’s exactly what she said you’d say.”

As much as I wanted to ask her what the hell was wrong with her for even listening to a

single word Rachel said, I knew that there was no way to know how long Rachel had been bashing

me or what she said. God, if Rachel tried to set it up like I was the other woman…No. I had to go

about this differently. I needed to appeal to the mother in her.

“I didn’t come here to get into all that. I came here because I’m not going anywhere and

neither are you. We both love Jacob and want him to be happy and this tension just puts him in the

middle. I want to work past it. We need to work through this, Alicia.”

She looked like she was considering it and I held my breath. This was it. This could be the

moment where we started over. Maybe she didn’t trust me, but she had to see that I loved Jacob.

Right?

“For now, I think its best we just stay out of each other’s way.”

I opened my mouth for a final appeal, but she shot that down by walking briskly to the door. I

swallowed the frustration and tried to walk out with my head high, but as soon as the door closed

solidly behind me, I felt the emotion knot in my throat.

At least you tried.

****

I leaned back in my swivel chair, the thing making a squeal that used to drive me batty. I’d

had it since college and Jacob offered to buy me another, not-so-subtly hinting that I made more than

enough money to afford the top of the line. Even though the squeal was usually tantamount to nails on

a chalkboard, I couldn’t chuck it. It reminded me of a simpler time. A time when working for a firm

like Whitmore and Creighton had been little more than a dream.

It was like a ratty t-shirt that had seen better days but you still gravitated to the comfort in its

worn threads. And considering the staff wine reception was sure to draw Rachel like flies on crap, I

needed a little comfort. But instead, the squeaky hinges admonished me for wanting to hide out. I had

every right to go to the wine reception. Still, after the epic fail with Alicia, I wasn’t sure how long I’d

be able to grin and bear it if Rachel decided to show up, armed with every insulting joke in creation.

The drum at my door made me snap to a ninety degree angle and put on a mask of

professionalism. When Jacob appeared in the doorway, I dropped all pretenses like I had it together

and let my curly hair wash onto my face.

He circled around my desk, perching on the edge beside me. “We don’t have to go. Maybe

something pressing came up and we had to fly to London.”

I let out a groan.

“Spain.”

I grunted.

“Bora Bora?”

Anywhere but here sounded like heaven. But there was a key feature the destination had to

have. “Security detail, military grade, to keep your Mom and Rachel out?”

“It can be arranged.”

I peered at him through a veil of chocolate brown curls, expecting to see a smirk or some

look along the lines of, ‘Yeah right’. But he was just studying me, willing and able to do anything to

make me feel better. “You’re being serious, aren’t you?”

“When it comes to you, the word ‘no’ doesn’t exist.”

Be still my beating heart...

We could sneak out the executive elevators, down to the garage and be climbing on his jet

just as all the premium liquor was kicking in and Rachel was really pulling out all the stops.

“No,” I said firmly, for my benefit as much as his. I flipped my hair out of my eyes and stood

up tall. “It’s just a drink or two and some h'orderves. I can do it.” I forced a smile. “I’m a

professional.” I stood up, sliding the skirt down a bit and smiling at the way his eyes traveled over

my curves like he was wishing I’d gone with running away. We could have finally made use of the

private chamber on board.

“I don’t know how you expect me to keep my eyes off you,” he said, his voice like a slow

hand stripping me down.

I slid up against him. Eye to eye. Lip to lip. “I don’t.”

I pressed my lips against his, finding a little piece of bliss and forgetting about everything

else but my fingers locked in his hair and his lips locked against mine. I tried to hold onto his taste as

we took the elevator up to the roof.

The early evening air was brisk and warm. The roof, usually lined with wicker furniture and

flowers, was the perfect oasis from deadlines or to enjoy a cup of coffee or lunch. It was transformed

into a set-up fit for any swanky bar or nightclub. White globes and cylinder lanterns cast a warm,

ethereal glow over the rest of the simple, classic furnishings. White, modern chairs and ebony

sculptures framed the space. Servers dressed in black made the circuit.

Jacob wrangled two glasses of wine for us before he had to step away to take a call and I

scanned the people, looking for Claudia. I stopped when I saw Snap Girl from Research and

Development, whose actual name was Elle Kent.

She gave me a tiny wave and wandered over, giving me a peevish smile. “Leila, right?”

So we were pretending that we hadn’t engaged in clipped, awkward conversation half a

dozen times. “That’s right. And you’re Elle?” Even though I wasn’t a big fan of reintroducing myself,

she was clearly trying to be friendly and since I had little to no friends at Whitmore and Creighton, I

decided to overlook her amnesia.

She blushed and gave me a nervous giggle that was clearly the product of several glasses of

wine. “That’s me!” She gestured around us. “It looks amazing out here, huh?”

Whitmore and Creighton knew how to put on a party. The jazz band lowered their volume,

drawing attention to the small stage off to the side. Missy slipped up to the forefront, dressed in her

usual fierce all black get up, but her hair hung in soft, carefree waves around her face. She ruffled her

locks demurely before speaking.

“I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for stepping away from their desks and

sticking around to unwind with us. Enjoy!”

Everyone gave her a polite round of applause and she sauntered off to a cluster of white

lounge chaises in the corner. It was clear, even now, that there was the hierarchy and she was in the

VIP section. When I narrowed my gaze, I saw Rachel sitting in the center, dressed in a ruby red dress

that was a dead ringer for the one I wore to the restaurant in Venice when I cut her dinner with Jacob

short.

I remembered Missy’s sudden befriending of me and frowned in anger. Was she Rachel’s

spy? I knew there had to be a catch.

Rachel brought the rim of her glass to her lips and gave me a look that said ‘buckle up’.

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Elle said dreamily beside me.

“Who?” I asked glumly, even though I was about a hundred percent sure she was talking

about the permanent pain in my ass.

“Rachel Laraby,” Elle said excitedly. I’ve seen every movie of hers. She’s incredible.”

I grunted a reply. As horrible as Rachel was in real life, I couldn’t deny that she had some

acting chops. Even though her last film about a waitress who had an affair with a writer was a

massive flop, I’d seen clips. The woman knew how to immerse herself in characters, drawing you

into her world.

When she rose from the couch, tossing me a wink, I finished my wine with a massive gulp

and yanked a second from a server making the rounds.

“Oh my god...she’s coming over here!” Elle squealed with glee.

“Joy,” I muttered, not even attempting to hide the fact that I was decidedly on the other end of

the spectrum. Elle gave me a weird look but it dissipated as Rachel glided toward us, everyone

dutifully parting like the Red Sea.

“Leila!” she said with faux cheeriness, her teeth glittering like fangs. “Don’t you look

lovely!”

From the way her green eyes inched over me like I was caked in poo, I knew I’d chosen the

perfect dress this morning. I knew Rachel’s tell--and she was trying way too hard.

“Ms. Laraby!” Elle said breathlessly, in awe of her. “I’m such a big--”

“That’s nice,” Rachel cut in, widening her phony smile. She held up her empty glass. “I’m

absolutely parched.”

Elle gobbled up the bait, hook, line and sinker. “I’ll get you another.” She flitted away,

probably off to personally crush the grapes.

Rachel dropped the act. “Where’s Jacob?”

“You’re the stalker--you tell me.”

Rachel let out a throaty chuckle. “Funny...I’ll tell you who wasn’t laughing--Jacob’s mother

when I told her that her son’s new girlfriend signed a contract surrendering herself for his pleasure.”

Her eyes hardened. “Guess who didn’t have to become a submissive to get his love?”

I could have made a scene. There were all sorts of furniture perfect for chunking at her and a

perfectly good railing I could toss her over, but she was showing her hand. She was boiling, teetering

on the edge of the cliff and she’d fall without me lifting a finger.

“You’re right, Rachel. When Jacob and I started out, our relationship was a sexual one.

Guilty as charged.” I took a sip of my wine, the fruity bite reminding me that every second I wasted

talking to Rachel was a second I’d never get back. “I’m gonna go mingle. You keep on pouting.”

“Just where do you think you’re--”

A hush rippled over the crowd and Rachel and I both turned our attention to the stage. Jacob

was standing in front of the band, undeniably handsome as he leaned in to say something to one of the

musicians.

When I heard the first notes of Etta James’ “At Last”, my heart stopped.

This isn’t...Jacob is NOT...

He held out his hand toward me, his lips curved into a delicious grin. My mind went blank

and I knew he was asking me to come up, but walking was suddenly this new-fangled thing I’d never

done. I had to remember to breathe, struggling to put one foot before the other.

Somehow I made my way to him, my head spinning as he took my hands in his. I knew what

was coming but I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it. All I knew for sure was that I wasn’t

breathing. Jacob was about to do something monumental and I was gonna pass out right there.

And then he dropped to one knee.

Gasps and ‘Oh my God!’s echoed around us, but all I heard was his question.

“Leila Montgomery--will you marry me?”

I promise you, I’ll never love anyone else. Can you handle that, Leila? Can you give me

forever?

I felt the tears stream down my face as the notes swelled. “Yes!”

###

Thank you for taking the time to read The Billionaire’s Promise. Please consider

leaving a review. xoxo, A.C.

About the Author

Ava Claire is a sucker for Alpha males and happily ever afters. When not putting pen to

paper or glued to her e-reader, Ava likes road tripping, karaoke, vintage fashion, and searching for

her own brooding billionaire.

Stay tuned to Ava’s blog for more info on new releases!

http://avaclaireromantica.blogspot.com