The Billionaire’s Lust (His Submissive, Part Seven)

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)

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****

I reread the text twice, like the words would morph. Like it would hurt any less.

It didn’t.

Slammed...don’t wait up.

It was the second time in seven days that I would eat dinner by myself and probably go to bed

alone.

Jacob was at the head of Whitmore and Creighton, a PR firm whose client list read like a

Who’s Who of Hollywood and high society. I tried to convince myself that it was just work occupying

his time. I’d seen the schedule, filled with back to back meetings. But it had been two weeks since I

read the letter he wrote to his mother. Two weeks since I found out that the man I loved wanted to

marry me--then changed his mind.

Two weeks since he started pulling away and spending more time at the office.

I dropped my cell on the granite countertop and went to the cabinet. I frowned when I saw

that there were only a few crystal tumblers on the shelves. I pulled open the dishwasher, seeing rows

of glass stems. My eyes flickered to the right where the recycle bin was filled to the brim with empty

wine bottles.

I closed the door and swiped a tumbler, then filled it with water. I guess I was done self-

medicating.

I was between a rock and a hard place. There was no way I could approach him about the

letter without revealing that I'd betrayed his trust. Again. Even if I tried to explain and apologize,

there was a risk that this would be it. The thing that pushed us off the cliff. The thing that would

devastate us.

How much could he take? How many times could I disappoint him? If his letter was any

indication, the answer was not much more.

My cell rattled to life on the counter and I launched to it, my heart beating a fever pitch in my

ears. The sound became a whistle, and then it became nothing. It wasn't Jacob.

I accepted the call, trying to make my voice sound normal. "Hi Meg!"

"What's wrong?" She didn't buy it for one second.

"Oh everything's great!" I lied, still not ready to give up the charade. I took a swallow of the

water and forced a smile, like my best friend was standing right in front of me. Who was I kidding? If

she saw right through me when I barely got two words out over the phone, I wouldn't fare well in

person. There was no use pretending I had it together--not with Megan.

"I made dinner." Well as close to dinner as I’d get. I'd whipped up some Velveeta mac and

cheese, steamed veggies, and managed to not completely dry out two chicken breasts. "Jacob's pulling

an all-nighter though so it looks like a table for one." My nostrils stung and I knew I was close to

crying. Table for one.

And it was just what I deserved.

"Well that’s actually kind of great!” she said excitedly. “I wanted to know if you wanted to

grab a cab and meet me at Lucy's?"

I perked slightly when I zeroed in on the sound of music and conversation weaving in and out

of her invitation. “You’re at Lucy’s?”

"After the day I had I needed a margarita. And salt. And endless salsa and chips," she said

with a chuckle that sounded off but I chalked it up to background noise.

I was so on board. I would have been down if she’d named a fast food joint instead of our

favorite taco restaurant, Lucy’s Taqueria. Anything to get out of this house and away from the sad

sight of plates languishing in the dining room. Anything to finally talk about the monstrous secret

threatening to rip its way out of my chest.

I told her I’d be there in ten and swiped my purse from a stool in front of the bar, dropping

my phone inside. After sliding my feet into a pair of flats and grabbing my jacket, I shut off the lights

and made my way to the elevator. Downstairs, I gave the doorman a smile and didn’t even have to

wave my arm before a taxi pulled up to the curb. I told him the address and settled into the seat,

watching the city pass me by.

I swear, everywhere I looked I saw romance and love. Couples hand in hand, vendors selling

bright flowers, smiling families; shiny, happy people. Even the taxi cab driver was humming along to

some cavity inducing song about finally finding true love.

I pressed my lids together, repeating ‘chips and alcohol’ over and over like a mantra, trying

to combat the sadness that filled me like a poison. Once you get there, you can climb out of this cab

and unload all this drama. Get some clarity.

That thought was what kept me breathing and passing the driver the fare instead of getting him

to make a U-turn and take me back to the apartment. Or one better--to Whitmore and Creighton where

I’d finally tell Jacob about the letter and stop carrying the guilt like a shackle around my neck. I

wanted to find out where we really stood instead of teetering on the edge, waiting for a gentle breeze

to send us spiraling to our doom.

Lucy’s was always filled to the brim, the walls screaming as loud as the music that poured

from the speakers. I scanned the restaurant until I saw Megan in a booth near the back, hunched over a

margarita like you’d have to pry the drink from her cold, dead fingers.

I pulled my mouth into a smile that dropped just in time for my eyebrows to leap when I saw

that she was on her third glass.

“Is there a holiday tomorrow I don’t know about?” I asked her, concern putting my issue

aside. She was a pretty relaxed drinker, even back in school, so watching her pound ‘em back was

like watching a pig take flight before my very eyes.

“Is there?” she said, looking at me like I would be the one to know such things. She fondled a

button on the front of her cardigan then shrugged her shoulder, resuming sipping. “Just had a long

day.”

Our waiter zipped to our table, dropping off a second bowl of chips and menu, saving her

from my narrowed gaze.

"Could we get a pitcher of strawberry margaritas?" Her Cheshire like grin tugged so high at

the corners that it looked painful. "I know my bestie is parched."

He let out a nervous chuckle and his eyes darted to me. I gave him a nod of approval and

asked for some water.

"So nothing's wrong," I said, my voice lined with disbelief. "You were just craving Lucy's?"

"Mmhm," she said, crunching on a tortilla chip. As soon as she swallowed she went back to

work on the rest of her drink. "Don't worry about me, Lay. I'm good."

Even though the table was a crime scene of evidence to the contrary, I didn't fight her. Not

when I had something to drink about myself.

"I need to tell you something before I completely lose my shit."

Something flitted across her face. Nah…it was nothing. She was practically begging me to

spill about Jacob, I could tell by the way she was studying me.

She gestured for me to keep going. "Well, don't leave me hanging."

“I read a letter Jacob wrote to his mother.” I inhaled deep and exhaled. "I'm pretty sure he

was going to ask me to marry him."

Her emerald glazed eyes widened and her jaw practically dropped onto the festive table.

“He what?!”

I wasn’t expecting ‘mazel tov!’ or a suffocating hug. I hadn’t even expected to say it just once

and have it go down since she was swaying back and forth to some invisible mariachi band. But this

wasn’t a happy kind of shock, the OMG that every girl hopes to share with their best friend when her

special somebody pops the question.

I was seriously worried that her face would be frozen in a contortion of surprise and horror if

she held her expression any longer, so I clarified. “He didn’t ask me to marry him. He was going to

ask me to marry him. As in, has no current plan to ask me.”

She relaxed immediately, sighing with relief as she raked a hand through her red locks. “Oh

thank God.”

“Oh thank God?” I repeated. “I’m glad one of us is so relieved about it.”

She propped her chin on her palm, giving me a single glare that was full of no-nonsense. It

was a look I was sure her students were familiar with.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with relief, Leila. This has to do with the fact that two

weeks ago you were lying and kissing another guy.”

My eyes darkened. “I did not kiss Cade. He kissed me!”

“And I’m sure he put a gun to your head.” She dropped her timbre, whipping out her best

Arnold Schwarzenegger. “And said, ‘Come with me and fulfill your barely masked attraction’.”

I pressed my lips into a line, biting my tongue. Clearly she was drunk and that’s why she

thought this was one big joke. Sure, there really wasn’t anything ideal about this situation--like how

Jacob hadn’t technically asked me and had doubts about our relationship—but we belonged together.

The waiter brought the pitcher over and I was surprised Meg didn’t leap from the table and

kiss him. She refilled her glass then filled mine to the brim. I brought the straw to my mouth and

sipped, hoping the chill of it would cool my anger. Nope. Still pissed.

“You can give me silent treatment all you want,” she sighed, “But I know the truth.”

I dredged my eyes to hers. “Is that right?”

“Yup,” she answered, not mincing the words she didn’t slur. “I get that you’ve been trying to

convince yourself that you have no feelings for Captain America, but you’re lying to yourself.”

“I see. I guess Dr. Scott is in? Here to help me address my deepest, darkest desires?”

“They really aren’t that deep.” she shrugged. “You snuck off to have coffee with him, then

you two kissed. I’d say that’s pretty out in the open, surface stuff. And before you go into who kissed

who--” she added when I opened my mouth, “--what does it matter? You can’t marry someone when

you’re running from yourself. How can you make a commitment to Jacob or expect him to make a

commitment to you when there are all these unanswered questions?”

“I have answers,” I spat. “Ask me if I have feelings for Cade. Ask me who I want a future

with.”

“Can you be around Cade and not think about the kiss?”

Her question stunned me because it was the same one that I’d been asking myself when he

came to my office. There was a reason I couldn’t look at him. That I didn’t want him near. That I

didn’t want him to touch me.

But I wouldn’t admit that. Not to my bff who was trying to play amateur psychiatrist. Not to

myself.

“Yes I can.” I said, unblinking. “I can be around him and not think about that stolen kiss.”

She dunked her chip in salsa, stirring it around slowly. “You answered my question when you

didn’t reply as soon as I asked. If you have to think about it, then you’ve got some stuff to figure out.”

“I’ve already figured everything out,” I said tersely. “I choose Jacob. End of story.”

“I hear you--”

“No, I don’t think you do. I’m not sure if it’s because your comprehension is mush from your

current vacay in Margaritaville or because you don’t want me to be happy, but I’m not going to sit

here and explain myself to someone who can’t even hold onto a single guy.”

I covered my mouth, hoping, praying that she was too busy crunching on chips or the music

snuffed out what I’d said.

But the red in her face, the hurt set of her lips and the tears gathering in her eyes proved I’d

hit my mark.

“Oh god Megan, I didn’t mean--”

“Please,” she sliced in, ice around every syllable. “You’ve already insulted me once. Don’t

sit here and lie to my face.”

“I didn’t mean--”

“You meant exactly what you said.” She brought her purse to the table, ruffling through the

contents. Probably searching for something to bludgeon me with. I couldn’t believe I went there. What

the hell was wrong with me?

“You’ve been holding onto that little morsel, haven’t you?” She snatched her wallet from her

purse. “Ever since Brad.”

Brad Haniford was a bouncer at a bar we used to frequent near campus. It had been lust at

first sight for the two of them that became something more—but not enough to curb Brad’s one

nightstands.

They’d argue, they hated each other; they made up, they loved each other. He swore he’d

never do it again...until he did. Over and over.

I knew she still loved him, even though he was toxic; even though any sort of relationship

would do more harm than good. And I’d just thrown that fact in her face.

“I’m so sorry Megan.” I’d been saying those words so much lately that they’d tattooed

themselves on my tongue. When she scoffed, I didn’t blame her. I had to stop hurting the people I

loved—or I’d lose them all.

“You know, I want to believe you.” she said finally. “I need to because otherwise you’re a

stranger to me. The Leila I knew would have never, ever went there. Even in anger.” A tear spilled

down her cheek and she swept it away, leafing through her wallet. “We don’t lie to each other. We

might lie to our guys, to ourselves, but we’re best friends. And I wouldn’t be a friend if I sat here and

pretended like you’re ready to ride off into the sunset with Jacob. I know you love him, Leila. And

maybe you don’t have feelings for Cade. But Jacob doesn't trust you. And he shouldn’t.”

I felt the tears rise in my throat. “That’s not fair.”

“Maybe. But it’s the truth. You’re the one that’s keeping secrets and reading letters that don’t

have your name on them. He would be insane not to have questions.” She dropped her money on the

table. “And I was insane to think that maybe you’d be a friend to me tonight.”

She started to slide out of the booth and I started babbling, not wanting to lose her. To prove

that somewhere along the way, I hadn’t gotten lost in all of this. “Is it Brad because if it is--”

“Jesus frickin Christ, Leila!” She laughed, but there was no joy in any of it. She was

disgusted. Angry. “It had nothing to do with him. If you weren’t so busy playing PI with a man that has

proved his love, you would have known that I’m seeing someone. That I’ve been seeing him for a

month, but I’m pretty sure it’s over now. Just once, just for tonight, I needed my best friend.” She

stood up, her pain streaming down her face. “Thanks for a great evening.”

****

“My mother is where?”

I could tell the involuntary, Jacob ordered truce Natasha had agreed to was shaky from the

way she cleared her throat. Like she was struggling against the desire to hang up the phone or tell me

that she wasn’t my secretary.

“The front desk just called up here and there’s a woman downstairs who claims she’s your

mother.” Before I could react or say the words myself, she threw a clipped ‘You’re welcome’ my

way and hung up the phone.

I clutched the receiver, not believing my ears, even though I knew if Natasha was joking it

would go something like:

Knock knock/Who’s there?/You’re fired...finally.

That meant that my mother had taken the train into the city and was down in the lobby and

probably talking the security guard’s ear off. Or anyone that slowed long enough to fall in her trap.

And then I remembered...the production team was filming today.

I’d never moved so fast in my life. If I trusted my legs to get me down the flights of stairs

without breaking my neck I would have said screw the elevator altogether. Luckily, it zipped to the

lobby in record time and I was off, moving like I was on a track in tennis shoes instead of skating

across the marble floor in heels.

Fred Lyons, one of the security guards, was eyeing my mother warily but she didn’t even

notice because she was engrossed in conversation with one of the producers of the show.

“Mom!” I tried for cheerfulness, but my voice cracked on the last bit.

‘Ma’ was close enough and she spun to face me. She was decked out in a slick navy sheath

dress, her gray lined dark hair pulled into a bun. She’d even gone light on the makeup.

“Leila!” She leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek, but my eyes didn’t leave the show’s

lead producer, Marla Waylon. The woman had a shit-eating grin plastered on her face, clearly

moments from promising my mother on-camera time if she convinced me to reconsider doing a

segment for PR.

“I was just saying hello to your lovely mother,” Marla said innocently.

I bet, I thought with an eye roll. “Well, I know your team is busy filming today so we’ll get

out of your way.”

I tried to steer my mother toward the elevators, but she didn’t budge. “Ms. Waylon was

saying that she’d love five minutes of our time.”

“That’s nice,” I said, wanting to give Marla a piece of my mind, but not wanting to start a

scene or be disrespectful around my mother. “I have a busy schedule--” Anticipating Marla’s next

play, I finished, “--and I want to give my mom the VIP tour.” I knew the words ‘VIP’ would at least

give me time to get Mom in the elevator. I took the visitor badge from Fred, mouthing ‘thank you’ as I

shepherded her away from the cameras.

“That Waylon woman was a real sweetheart,” Mom piped.

I covered my snort with a cough. ‘Snake’ was a better noun. With midnight hair and near

black eyes, she was a force to be reckoned with. Marla would sell her first born for a ratings spike. If

you were a nobody you didn’t exist in her universe but if she thought you’d make good TV, get on

board or get run over. I’d put her off as long as possible, but I knew eventually I’d have to tell her no

and face her wrath or just bite the bullet and agree to be on camera.

“I want to see the floor they film PR on,” Mom chirped excitedly as she stepped into the

elevator. “There’s that girl with the thick accent and the attitude--”

“Missy Diaz?” I said, not wanting to hit the fifth floor button. Not wanting to introduce my

mother to the woman who made my working life miserable.

“That sounds right,” she said, jittery with excitement. “And the older women, Claudia Joy?”

I relented and punched the button for Mrs. Joy alone. After all of her help with the photo

situation, I owed her another thank you. And she was technically my only friend in this high rise

building.

The doors retracted when we stopped at the fifth floor and my mother hesitated like she’d

snuck past security into some red zone and at any moment, people with guns would rush in and carry

her away.

It was adorable.

I stepped out of the elevator, putting my arm out to keep it from shuttling her to another floor.

“It’s okay, Mom.”

Her mouth spread into a smile of awe as she moved out beside me, scanning the place she’d

only seen on television. People bustled past, not doing anything remotely glamorous, but in my

mother’s eyes, she was on the red carpet.

She gripped my arm as Missy came out of one of the private offices on the wall. Her gaze

narrowed over the bullpen, clearly looking for someone that wasn’t working at a fevered pace. When

her dark stare made its way to where I stood, she scowled--until she cut to Mom. Her eyes went back

and forth between the two of us, weighing our similarities and when she figured it out, she smiled like

she’d just won the lottery.

Great. She was coming over.

“Leila!” Missy gushed, flipping her mahogany hair over her shoulder. “To what do we owe

this honor?” She didn’t even wait for me to respond. “It’s so great to see you!”

Great to see me? I thought, eyebrows perking. Why was she so happy to see me?

It took less than a second for me to answer the question. Mom was shaking her hand like she

was meeting a celebrity and Missy was eating it up. I wanted to tell her that Missy wasn’t what she

seemed, but I knew that would just make things worse for me.

“Miss Montgomery, Leila is such a great addition to our team,” Missy said effusively. “She

has such poise, grace and tenacity.”

“That’s my Leila,” Mom beamed. She took a step back, peering at Missy with her head tilted

to the side. “You and Leila are close then?”

Missy lied as easily as breathing. “Of course.”

“Hmm.” Mom stroked her chin. “I thought it was just TV, but you’re a horrible liar in person

too.”

Just when you think you know what to suspect, people can surprise you.

I pressed my fingertips against my lips, stifling the laugh that I knew was coming. Missy was

genuinely flabbergasted.

Mom looked past Missy, craning her neck like she was looking for someone important.

“Could you take me to Mrs. Joy’s office, Leila? I’m dying to meet her.”

I could barely keep the smile off my face now as we sidestepped a stewing Missy. “Right this

way.” Once we were out of hearing range I whispered, “I thought you were a fan of hers?”

“Please,” Mom scoffed. “She’s such a witch to her poor staffers. I was going to be cordial

though--until I saw the way she looked at you.”

Oh God...she was really going to make me cry. I thought about Missy, Natasha, anything to

make me angry and remember why I couldn’t show an ounce of weakness around these people. I saw

Claudia’s office, shining like some light at the end of the tunnel and that did the trick.

Claudia was curled up in her armchair, her laptop on a sleek lap apparatus, a cup of coffee in

hand.

I tapped on the door and she looked up, smiling brightly when she made eye contact.

“Leila!” Claudia noticed my mother beside me. “And who’s this?”

“This is my mother, Cheryl Montgomery,” I answered. “She was in the neighborhood--”

“And I just had to meet you!” Mom didn’t even wait for an invitation before she pushed into

Claudia’s office.

Claudia put aside her mug and laptop and extended her hand. Mom shook it so hard that I was

surprised she didn’t snap Claudia’s arm right off.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, taking a step forward. “She just wanted to say hello. She’s a big fan of

PR.”

Claudia chuckled good-naturedly, holding my mother’s hand in both of hers. “It’s a pleasure

to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine!” Mom grinned, still staring at Claudia like she was the second coming

of Christ. “I know Lay really looks up to you.”

My cheeks tingled with embarrassment. It was true, but oh my gosh...

“Well your daughter is pretty amazing in her own right. She’s been an indispensable resource

on several cases.” Claudia glanced at me, her eyes warm. “I can’t wait until she becomes a member

of the PR team.”

I felt the burn of tears in my throat. It meant so much coming from her. Sure, Jacob had said

the exact same thing for months now; that I deserved to do more than arrange his calendars and be the

woman behind the man. But hearing it from Claudia…it was just different. Of course parents tell their

children they’re awesome. Of course significant others support their other halves. But Claudia had

nothing to gain by saying that I was great at my job and that she thought I’d excel doing my dream job.

“Well, we’ll let you get back to work.” It was my mother that steered me from the office and

back to the elevator. I didn’t even care that Missy was glaring at us, probably planning something

especially terrible. Bring it on. Not even she could bring me down right now.

We shuttled up to our final destination and I sniffled, remembering Natasha. But I didn’t have

to pretend we could stand each other because she was away from her desk.

“So this is the executive floor.” I said, turning to my mother.

“Everything is so sleek and polished!” she gasped, taking it all in, turning in a circle.

I recalled the day of my interview, drinking in the building with the same awe she had etched

all over her face. Working here, day after day, it was easy to forget to enjoy the little things. To

remember how lucky I was.

She pointed at the corridor that led to Jacob’s office. “Can I stop in and say hello?”

I pursed my lips.” He’s in meetings all day.” I heard the click of the door, Jacob’s not-so-

subtle way of saying he didn’t want to be disturbed. I prayed that Mom missed the sound and my rigid

strides in the opposite direction, but I could tell she hadn't from the way she hesitated before

following me.

I pushed open the door to my office, making a grand gesture. “And here’s where I spend most

of my day.”

She walked in first, marveling over it even though it didn’t hold a candle to the set-up in Mrs.

Joy’s office. She went to the desk, picking up the cat figurine before moving to a framed picture of me

and Jacob.

I remembered that day so clearly, so vividly, that it felt like yesterday instead of over a month

ago. We found a family owned vineyard with rows and rows of grape vines. I’d leapt at the chance so

squash the grapes with my feet and make wine and I’d been floored when he rolled up his pants and

joined me. The picture was a moment, frozen in time forever. A moment of sheer bliss. It was a

snapshot of what we were and now...now it was just evidence that things had fallen apart.

“So what happened between you and Jacob?” Mom asked, putting the picture back. “Cade

Wallace?”

It was my first inclination to agree. To pinpoint the exact moment we veered off course to the

moment Cade sat at my table and said hello. But that was a cop-out. Cade wasn’t the real problem.

Jacob and I took a turn the first time I lied to him. I had to stop lying. To him. To myself.

“Turns out you were right. He wants to marry me.” I ran my thumb along the edge of my desk.

“Wanted.” She wasn’t pushing me, which wasn’t characteristic for my mother at all, so I did

something uncharacteristic too--I opened up to her.

“I keep thinking that the things I’m doing, keeping things to myself…” I closed my eyes. “I

keep lying for what I think are the right reasons, but he keeps pulling further and further away. Maybe

I don’t deserve him. Maybe I don’t deserve happiness.”

“Leila Christine Montgomery.” Her tone was strict. “I don’t want you to ever say anything

like that again. I don’t care if you’re dating Jacob Whitmore, the president of the United States, or a

garbage collector. You deserve happiness. You deserve love.”

“Then why do I keep screwing it up?”

“Because you’re sabotaging yourself.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Excuse me?”

“It’s cheerleading, yearbook staff and the musical all over again.”

I laughed at that. “Everything you just named was situations where I was shy or thought I had

zero chance and would make a complete fool of myself.”

“Why?” she asked plainly. “You knew the routines for cheerleading tryouts. I watched you

perform them all in the backyard. Your pictures from family vacations were good enough to go in a

brochure. And don’t even get me started on your singing voice.” She paused, like she was listening to

me belt out a tune even though I was just glaring at her. “Every single time, you didn’t think you were

good enough so you made sure that they fell through.”

It wasn’t true. On the day of cheerleading tryouts I got violently sick. There was no way I

could have performed and risked vomiting all over the gym floor. And just because I happened to

snap a decent picture of the beach of a Ferris wheel in motion didn’t mean I was good enough to be

on yearbook staff. And as far as the musical, it was one thing to give a speech as the class president

and a whole other thing to sing and go up against theatre majors.

My stomach clenched.

Excuses. Every one of them.

Was it true? Did I keep sabotaging my relationship with Jacob because I didn’t think I

deserved him? Because I was afraid he’d wake up and realize he made a terrible mistake in trusting

me with his heart?

“You deserve to be happy, Leila,” Mom said firmly. “If Jacob makes you happy, stop

screwing around and be with him. It’s as simple as that.”

I wanted to believe her, that it would be such an easy fix as just cutting it out. But there was a

part of me that worried too much had happened and too much trust was lost.

****

I shook off what was left of sleep, stretching my arms perpendicular to my body before

opening them, expecting my fingertips to graze the muscular wall of Jacob’s back. Without even

glancing at my cell I knew it was a little past seven am. Years of 8am classes had my internal alarm

dinging, even on a Saturday.

The casual brush wouldn’t stir Jacob, which was fine by me. I was just looking forward to

rolling over for some cuddling and gather strength for what I knew I had to do. I couldn’t handle one

more day of carrying this burden. I needed to tell him what I read.

But my fingertips didn’t collide with his sleeping form. I lifted my head and saw that his side

of the bed was neat, his pillow and section of the sheets untouched.

Last night I’d gone to bed with another text that he had a long night at work, but this…this

was different.

Jacob didn’t come home last night.

I threw the covers to the side and kicked off the bed, moving like a woman possessed. I

pulled on a pair of yoga pants and stomped into my flats beside the closet. I knew I was unshowered

and looked slightly unhinged, but I was going to Whitmore and Creighton.

But what if he isn’t at his office? I thought, hurt knotting my stomach. What if he stayed at a

hotel because he couldn’t stand being around me for one more second?

I paused outside the bedroom, the smell of coffee wafting up to put my freak out on hold. He

must have gotten up before me.

I eased down the staircase, drawing steadying breaths. This was just further proof that it was

time to be honest. I was literally losing my mind.

The door to the balcony was open and I launched myself forward. Jacob was reclined in one

of the wicker armchairs, looking incredible even in a plain white t-shirt and black lounge pants. His

dark hair was slightly mussed, the wavy locks creating an ebony halo around his bowed head. He

looked so peaceful. So serene. I was about to take him from that, ripping him into the dark pit of my

latest betrayal.

"Morning," I said, my voice still shaking, hoarse from hours of non-use.

Yeah right, Lay. Non-use my ass--I was shaking from white hot terror that I’d ruined

everything. If all the drama I’d put him through up to now wasn’t enough to destroy us, hearing that I’d

officially become one of those psycho girlfriends that snooped would be.

He glanced up, his cerulean eyes bright and warm. Warmer than I'd seen them in a while.

"Good morning." He nodded at the small, iron wrought table beside him where a French press and a

second mug sat. "Coffee's fresh."

"Thanks." I gripped the handle tight and poured the dark roast into my mug then added a bit of

cream and brought it to my lips. It was liquid fire, scorching my dry mouth and throat.

I sunk into the chair beside him, trying to shut my head off and focus on my heart and what

needed to be said. It was a losing battle because the possibility that I could lose him consumed me.

The notion that this could be it, that we’d reached the point of no return was like a knife to the chest.

But it didn't compare to this purgatory, the agony of the words he wrote branded on my soul.

I'm not sure about a lot of things. I'm not sure where Leila and I stand…

"It's beautiful out here today, huh?" His deep voice pulled me from my pity party.

It was true. The sky was a soft hue that was romantic. Dreamy. A world away from the storm

that was coming.

"It is," I answered, chewing on my bottom lip.

"Can I tell you something?"

I blurted out yes, snatching up the reprieve, no matter how brief.

"It's going to sound cheesy," he warned, stealing a look at me.

I couldn't help but smile at that. Jacob Whitmore, cheesy? That was damn near impossible.

But he was clearly waiting for me to give him the okay, so I tipped my head for him to go on.

"Mornings are my favorite time of the day," he confessed. "Where the sky is still swirling

with bits of purple, shedding the last pieces of yesterday. I feel like anything is possible. A fresh start.

A chance to get it right or wrong. Anything could happen."

My lips spread, but nothing came out. A fresh start. It was like he'd read my thoughts and

knew just what to say and show me that this was my moment. All I had to do was take it with both

hands and let go.

He faced me full-on, his expression the very definition of dread. "Too much?"

The side of my mouth crept upward. "No, Jacob. It was beautiful."

He held my gaze for a few seconds more then turned back to his city. "I'm sorry I've been at

the office so much lately. I've been up to my damn ears signing off on projects, expanding our client

base..." He trailed off with a low chuckle. "What am I saying? You know better than anyone how

crazy things are."

"I do," I replied, placing my mug on the table. My hands were shaking too hard to maintain

my grip. When he blew up after I told him about the letter, I could already see it crashing and

splintering into a million pieces.

I rolled my shoulders back. I’d had weeks of avoiding this. Living with this secret. Win or

lose, I was coming clean.

"I'm sorry too, Jacob."

He cocked his head to the side. "You're sorry? What for?"

"Because I read the letter you wrote to your mother."

Ever since I opened that letter, I prepared myself for the worse. A rush of blood to the head

in the space between my confession and his response. Some form of cardiac arrest to kick in as I

watched it really sink in, compounding the damage I'd already done. His face would crumble, wild

with rage as I prepared for him to tell me that he was done. That he was tired of giving me all, only to

be disappointed when I found some new way to hurt him. I was prepared for the eruption, to stand

still and take it as he laid out all the reasons he never should have hired me or allowed himself to fall

for me. I was prepared. I'd accepted it. What I wasn't prepared for were the actual words that fell

from his lips.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

I blinked once. Twice. Slowly, hesitantly, my body started turning and whirling as his words

spun around me. “What did you just say?”

He pivoted to me and said it again. “I’m sorry that you had to see that.” His eyes breathed me

in with concern. With worry. “That letter…I was going to send that weeks ago...you’ve been carrying

that confession around all this time?”

That was his question? Not, ‘Have you lost your goddamn mind’? This wasn’t real. This was

a dream. Still, I managed to move my head up and down.

“Oh Leila.” He said my name like it was the saddest, most gut wrenching love song ever

written. “Baby you should have...” He got up and took my hand in his, bringing me to my feet and

crushing my body against his. “I was angry when I wrote those words. I was tired of feeling like I

didn’t have control. You did what you wanted. Cade fucking Wallace did what he wanted.” He

combed his fingers through my hair, his face coursing with emotion—and not the emotion I expected.

“That letter certainly wasn’t the way I wanted you to learn that I want to spend the rest of my life with

you.”

“You still want to spend your life with me?” I said in disbelief. “After everything that’s

happened?”

“I know what a Leila-free life is like. I’ve been there, I’ve done that and I’ll be damned if I

go back to living without you.” He quirked his lips into a smile. “I mean, I’d be lying if I told you that

all the things that have happened haven’t made me pause and take a step back, but I never stopped

loving you.”

“And I never stopped loving you,” I whispered, bringing my arms up, circling his neck and

standing on my toes. My lips hovered mere inches from his lips. “Jacob, I’m sorry for the letter and

I’m sorry for whatever stupid thing I’m bound to do in the future.” I moved closer, my lips brushing

his. “I don’t want you to ever doubt me or where we stand. I want to be the thing you can trust, that

you can count on no matter what.” The kiss bloomed and the whole world paused for us. It was only

his lips, my lips and the taste of the future.

When I stepped back, I only wanted to have him. Every part of me cried out for him; wanted

to strip off layers of clothes and join our bodies together. But I had more to say. I needed him to

understand because even if he was ready to forgive, I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t put it all on

the line.

“I talked to my mother and she helped me understand something.”

His eyebrow arched in surprise that I’d said ‘mother’ and ‘help’ in the same breath. “She

did?”

“Yes,” I confirmed slowly. “I think I was trying to sabotage us.”

He massaged his neck, trying to understand. “Sabotage?”

“She reminded me of high school--” I chuckled, pausing as I was bombarded by memories.

“And let me just say for the record, I thought I was over that awkwardness. In college, I threw myself

into student government and clubs because I knew that was the only way I’d get where I needed to go.

Failure wasn’t an option. But once upon a time, the very idea of failing was so crippling that I would

make sure I didn’t. How can you fail if you never really try?” I looked up at him. “You are the best

thing that ever happened to me and I think a part of me just thought it was a matter of time before you

left.”

“So you’re doing your damndest to make sure I leave?” he asked. “Trying to force the other

shoe to drop?”

“I wasn’t expecting to fall for you.” My cheeks warmed as I tried to explain. “I mean, I knew

we had physical chemistry. I would have never signed the contract if there wasn’t sparks--”

“Just sparks?” he said, his deep voice crackling with mischief.

“It was the Fourth of July,” I amended with a smirk. “But the idea that a guy like you--drop

dead gorgeous, rich, powerful, crazy successful, would want me? Love me? That was a hard pill to

swallow. I think somewhere I believed it was only a matter of time before you decided you could do

better. So I guess I was making those stupid choices, testing you...” I cringed at that word. I expected

his face to harden because you don’t play games with guys like Jacob and they had zero patience for

people that did. But he was just listening to me. Rapt. “I don’t want to do it anymore, subconsciously

or otherwise. I want to believe that you’re mine and I’m yours. That I deserve you.” I held my breath,

waiting for him to respond.

“You know what I find remarkable?”

My uncanny ability to screw up the best thing in my life? “What’s that?”

“From here, I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve someone as amazing as you.” He moved

back in, like he couldn’t bear to be apart from me. “I never thought I’d find someone like you. Feisty.

Stubborn. So full of love and compassion. I never thought I deserved to find my soul mate. But I found

you. And if you want to get rid of me, you’ll have to try harder.”

He was near enough that I could see the desire heating his cool gaze. Close enough that I

knew every beautiful inch of him was hardened for me.

“So even if I did this--” I slid my hand inside the front of the cotton pants that hung low on his

hips, his downy masculine hair making a delicious trail toward his erect cock. I gripped him tight,

sliding my tongue over my lip. “--you’d still keep me around? Even though it’s a blatant disregard of

my training and your rules?”

He slowly rolled his hips, drawing his length in then out of the hole I created with my fist. He

was already leaking desire from the tip, coating my palm.

“Get rid of you?” He let out a shuddering sigh. “Absolutely not. If anything, the dominant in

me would realize that you need a refresher course.”

My lips trembled as my own desire wet the crotch of my panties, heat firing like pistons all

over. “And if I decide I just want a taste--” I lowered myself to my knees, my eyes never leaving his

as I brought his swell from behind the fabric. I ran a finger around the head of his cock, watching the

way his mouth twitched, the way his muscles tightened as he tried to restrain himself. When a moan--

low and barely audible--fell from his lips, I broke eye contact and leaned forward, taking the tip in

my mouth. Suckling his sticky sweet nectar.

My tongue ran around the mushroom head, over its contours, dancing into the slit then

holding, sucking, anticipating the delicious lick of pain when he’d take the control back. Punish me.

God, I must have been a mad woman egging him on, not knowing what discipline was in store. But

that was the fun part. Not knowing.

Just as I started taking more of him in, he gripped my hair, stopping me.

“You like being bad, don’t you?” he said huskily. “Making me punish you?”

“Yes sir,” I said breathlessly.

His touch slackened and something softer raced across his face. “It’s been too long since

we’ve indulged, Leila. Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Absolutely.” I wanted to submit to him. I wanted to give him control. I wanted to give him

all of me.

His eyes smoldered. “Strip. I want you naked, on your knees, hands behind your back.”

****

If I'd blushed standing just inside, with the doors open and the off chance that someone caught

a glimpse after our tryst on the dining room table, every bared inch of me was red as I knelt before

him now. Before, it could have been explained away. A trick of the light. But there was no mistaking

the fact that I didn't have on a shred of clothing with me kneeling butt naked on the balcony.

"How do you feel?"

"Naked," I quipped. My joke was lost on him, his eyes slivers of cobalt blue. "Exposed."

"I know you, Leila." He crossed his arms. "Exposed is lazy. I want you to tell me how being

naked in plain view of the condominiums across the street makes you feel."

I let his request ripple over me as the same word remained on my tongue. I was exposed. The

crisp breeze was a reminder of my nakedness, caressing my warm skin. I felt my arousal licking my

inner thigh and I was very aware of my untamed, greasy locks spilling past my shoulders. The wind

swept brown curls back and forth across the curve of my breasts. But it was the chance that I’d be

seen that dominated my thoughts. I imagined a man or a woman having a lazy cup of coffee on their

balcony and seeing my nakedness. It made me hunch over, trying to make myself smaller. Invisible.

"I don't want them to see me like this," I murmured, my face on fire.

"To see you like what?" he probed.

I nibbled my lip, wincing a little as my knee cut through the woven rug to the concrete below.

"To see me naked." Exposed, I thought rebelliously.

"And why is that?"

I glared up at him and his cool gaze drank it up. He really did miss the power play. Taking

me out of my comfort zone. Showing me who was really in charge.

"Because I'm sure if they had their druthers, I'd be the last person on Earth they'd want to see

naked."

The sparkle of mischief was snuffed out, replaced by disappointment. "I thought we were

past this, Lay."

I gasped as my nickname flowed from his lips. It had never been my favorite; just some

offhand thing my mother called me until it stuck. But he turned a single syllable into something

beautiful. Something erotic. Looking up at him, seeing the way his eyes caressed my nudity, I tried to

see what he saw. But I just felt naked.

“You want to know what I think?”

I nodded.

"I think you're the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

I brought my lids down, not wanting him to see my complete and utter disbelief. I didn't doubt

that he was attracted to me, that he wanted me, but the whys were hard to accept or believe.

He came forward, hooking my chin then tipping it up.

"Everything about you is sexy," he said smoothly. "The way your curls bob in the wind before

crashing around your delicious curves."

I hitched a breath, the moan trapped in my throat as he brought his hand from my chin,

dragging a single finger down my chilled flesh and making a wide circle around my areola. Even

though he was several inches away from my nipples, they hardened to rocks.

His hand spread over my abdomen. "You have a lover's body. The kind of body songs were

written about. That wars were waged over."

I held my breath, feeling how close he was to going deeper. To sinking his fingers inside me.

Instead, he rose up to his full height, the hand that should have been indulging in my heat

gesturing at the wicker chair. "I want you to have a seat--" He waited until I blinked up at him before

he finished. "--and then I want you to touch yourself."

My eyes bulged, his command drawing me from the haze of lust, back into the uncomfortable

arms of self-consciousness. "T-Touch...you want me to finger myself? Out here?"

His voice sharpened. "I know it's been awhile, but I can assure you I'm still no fan of

repeating myself." When I continued to stare, hesitation gluing me to the rug, he came forward,

yanking me to my feet.

He spun me around, so my back was against his chest and his erection made itself known. We

could have been in the clutches of summer in the city, the sun pounding down on us if the desire

heating me was any indication. When his lips brushed my ear, my inner core pulsed in time with my

heart.

"Do you need motivation?"

A spanking? The very thought of it nearly made me come. It really had been too long--I

wanted to prolong this...hold onto these conflicting emotions of wanting more and wanting to stop. Of

wanting to bend over, ass in the air and wanting to run for cover.

I found my voice and it was almost unrecognizable. Sultry. Longing. "No sir."

I moved forward, slowly lowering myself onto the cushion of the armchair, bringing my

trembling legs up until I felt the ottoman beneath them. I was sitting in a pike position, hands on my

thighs, my limbs locked and apprehensive. I made the mistake and looked out, the knots in my stomach

multiplying as I saw the countless windows in the building across the street.

All those windows. All of those eyes on me. The rational part of me said they’d need a

telescope, binoculars or an unhealthy curiosity to see anything remotely scandalous. Like my thighs

spread and my fingers knuckle deep while a fully clothed man looked on. It was...I was...I squeezed

my thighs together and crossed my arms against my breasts. A new word came to mind: Humiliated.

“Jacob, maybe if we went inside--”

“No.” His voice darkened, blotting out any misconceptions of a choice in the matter. “You

will do this, Leila. Because you’re beautiful. Sexy. Desirable as hell.” He picked up his mug and

brought it to his lips. When he was finished, his expression was strict and impassive. “You will do

this because I commanded it and you are mine.”

There was something in his voice that unraveled my nerves, enslaving me to his will. It was

more than the fact that he was looking at me like I was the most delicious kind of sin--it was the fact

that somehow, I was starting to feel different.

I looked down at my skin, the same skin I thought was getting too pale and starving for sun. It

was golden and supple, the light dancing on it, making it shine. I ran my hand through my curls, the

softness and bounce like heaven to touch. I leaned back, the slight recline of the chair built for the

contours of my body. I was stark naked, wet as hell and I didn’t feel gangly or exposed. I felt like sex.

And I wanted to touch myself.

I cut my eyes up to him as I spread my thighs, both hands at my knees. A smile didn’t dare

approach his lips, but I saw it in the blue as I drew my fingertips down the V of my thighs. I went

slow, taking my time because I knew it wouldn’t take much to release me. Not when I was in his aqua

embrace. Not when I was listening to my true erotic nature.

I drew a sharp breath when my fingers brushed my moist entrance. I spread myself wide,

feeling the caress of air against the cool desire that turned me molten. One hand opened my intimate

folds and the other paused at the slit, waiting, watching the smile in his eyes become unbridled lust.

I pushed the finger deep and my heat fluttered around the digit. I forgot about eye fucking

Jacob because I was so wet. So hungry for this. Hungry for more.

I bucked my hips as my shallow thrusts stroked my inner walls, my rhythm building until I

tossed my head back and forth from the overwhelming pleasure. I knew he was watching and it made

me wild.

When I glanced over at him, I gasped when I saw he’d moved closer. He was close enough

that I was eye level with his crotch and saw he was more than enjoying my submission.

Every bit of me was tingling, aching, begging as I continued my assault, not letting up because

I knew how close I was. How close he was. When he tilted my chin up, I flicked my thumb across my

nub of erotic nerves and pleasure shouted all over me, building to a screeching frenzy. When his

mouth claimed mine, his tongue sliding between my lips, I knew I was through.

I was coming.

His kiss deepened as I kept pumping. I was all senses and longing, the bliss too much and at

the same time, nowhere near enough. When my lips went slack, he rounded out his kiss until he was

just stroking my lips with his, like he couldn’t get his fill of the way I tasted. Like he wanted every

last bit of me, letting nothing go to waste.

He pulled back, his gaze locked on me. “How do you feel?”

I shifted, but not to cover myself. I turned into the sun, closing my eyes as its warmth caressed

my naked skin.

“I feel sexy.”

****

I stepped inside the corner coffee shop, getting high off espresso just walking through the

door. Even though the decor was the picture of sophistication--dark hardwood floors and modern

furniture that was nice to look at--it didn’t inspire comfort. They charged three times as much for a

latte because the shop was flanked by swanky apartment buildings and condominiums. One came to

this place for coffee with a side of arrogance.

Case in point was the poor soul in front of me that dared to ask for extra chocolate in his

mocha and the barista glared at him like he was lost. The only reason I picked this shop instead of

flagging a cab and heading down to my favorite haunt was because I just wanted to grab a couple of

muffins and a matcha green tea latte and head back to the apartment. All I wanted was to curl up in a

chair on the balcony and steal looks at Jacob until I could convince him that I needed more

‘discipline’.

I shivered with longing, biting my lip. Nothing compared to the way he made me feel. It was

frightening to come to terms with the fact that I was so close to losing the only man that loved the real

me. The me I hid away from everyone. The me he’d seen that day in the lobby, feisty and sexy and

curious. I could never show him how much it meant to me that he loved me despite my flaws.

I sniffled, blinking back the emotion. All this lovey doveyness was turning me into a bundle

of mushy gushy. When I saw the impatient set of the barista’s jaw, it helped steady me. Still, I

couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I ordered a breve for myself and a green tea latte for Jacob.

When she all but snatched my debit card then looked right through me to the next customer, I barely

noticed, turning, almost whistling until I saw him—and choked on my happiness.

It was hard to believe that once upon a time the sight of him made sparks ripple across my

skin. Back then I wouldn’t be able to get rid of my grin, even with the jaws of life. I’d hold it until I

stepped out of the dark, so tempted to rush back to the ticket booth so I could experience it all over

again. Now, the very sight of Cade Wallace made me sick to my stomach.

He was in his best Regular Joe, wearing a charcoal V-neck shirt and jeans, his golden

cropped hair beneath a ball cap. His green eyes glued me in place but as soon as his lips spread, I

wrenched free, walking slowly backward.

“Cade? What are you—” You don’t care. I turned my back. Ignore him. Maybe he’ll just go

away.

I moved to the drink pick-up station, willing them to go faster so I could get the hell out of

there. It was obvious Cade was determined to butt his way into my life whether I wanted it or not.

Even with my attention on the barista’s every movement, I knew Cade was beside me. He just

had that kind of presence; the ability to make the air buzz. And even though I was ridden with goose

bumps, on high alert, I didn’t acknowledge him.

Just go away, I begged silently. We don’t have anything to say to each other.

“I know I’m probably the last person on Earth you want to see--”

I refused to speak to him out loud, but my thoughts fired off like bullets. Damn right.

Especially since I told you I was off of your case and have zero, zilch, nada reason to see you in

person. Ever.

“—but I was in the neighborhood.”

In the neighborhood? Everything else became a muted drone, a whisper compared to the

realization that he was lying. While Cade was here promoting the movie, he was staying at the Empire

—clear on the other side of town. I turned the volume back on, needing to hear that I was wrong

because if I was right…

“—and this place makes my favorite cup of coffee in the city.”

There was no way I was going to let that fly by unaddressed. “I thought the hole in the wall

we met at for coffee was your favorite cup of coffee in the city.” Since I’d just nixed the whole

ignoring thing, I turned my chin in his direction and pulled it upward until I met him dead on. “I’m

going to ask you a question that I already know the answer to, so if you lie, I’ll know.” He claimed I

made him want to be better, and I was going to find out if it was all just an act.

I was going to find out if my favorite actor was stalking me.

“You weren’t in the neighborhood, were you?”

“You’re asking if I’m lying about being in the area?” He had one hell of a poker face. The

sharp lines of his face never wavered. There wasn’t even a twitch. But his question was a clearly just

stalling.

I didn’t blink. “Not area. Neighborhood.”

“You’re asking if I’m lying about being in the neighborhood?”

“I’m asking you to be honest.” I glanced back at the barista. She was slowly pouring steamed

milk into the cups. I’d give him until she slid them across the counter to quit with the games.

Why are you even playing at all, Lay? Cade Wallace has proved time and again that he

can’t be trusted farther than you can throw him. But this was a new life, a new Leila. And I could

answer that question without guilt. The only reason I hadn’t said the hell with my drinks was because

I wanted to be proven wrong. That I hadn’t spent time, money, and heart on a guy that was a complete

asshole. I wasn’t holding auditions for my new BFF here. I just wanted the bullshit to end.

“Tea latte and a breve latte for Leila?”

The barista plunked the cups on the counter in front of me and I swiped them, feeling

disappointed. I was done waiting. “Time’s up.”

“No, I wasn’t in the neighborhood,” he blurted.

I paused, glancing over my shoulder. “Are you following me, Cade?”

And there was the crack. His mouth opened, his eyes softening. Guilty. “Yes.”

I walked to the condiment station, popping the lid off my latte and grabbing a raw sugar

packet. I thought hearing him admit it would be infuriating. Make me chunk the coffee at his head and

make a run for it—because stake outs and ‘accidentally’ running into people wasn’t normal. Maybe I

was in shock, calmly opening the pack, brown sugar crystals raining on top of the frothy foam.

“I know this looks bad.”

“Bad?” I repeated, putting my lid back on and running my finger along the seam until I was

sure that it was secure. “You following me is horrible, Cade. And slightly frightening.”

“Then let me explain.” When I arched an eyebrow, he added. “Five minutes. I’m not trying to

throw a wrench in your love life, I swear.”

“You have until I put sugar and milk in Jacob’s tea.” I made sure I was watching him when I

said my boyfriend’s name. If he frowned, or even looked at me sideways, he wouldn’t even get that. I

wouldn’t waste any more time if he couldn’t accept that me and him just weren’t going to happen.

Even if he was my shadow until I drew my last breath.

But he didn’t even flinch, which was a start. I popped Jacob’s lid and listened to what Cade

had to say.

“I want to apologize to you.”

“Again?” I said with an eye roll. “And then you’ll show me how you really mean it by doing

something that completely contradicts your apology?” I thought back to his attempt at one when he’d

come to pick up the gift baskets and atone for the mess he made after going ape shit on a dressing

room. I thought back to when I made it clear that we were done, that I wanted him to leave and he

followed it up by making me uncomfortable. “Like invading my personal space?” I dumped in a

dollop of milk. “Or following me around?”

“Yes, I want to apologize again,” he reiterated, clenching his jaw. “And I know that I’m

going to have to convince you that I mean it this time.”

“Step one,” I said curtly. “Don’t stalk me.”

“How else would I get you alone?” His eyes widened when he realized how bad that

sounded. “Not for that. I meant, how would I get you alone so I could explain everything and not get in

a brawl with Jacob or have you slap me and some photographer eat it up from behind his lens?” He

paused. “Tomorrow’s the premiere and I’m keeping my nose clean. I swear it. I’ve done enough,

risked enough. I won’t let my shit affect the movie release any more than it already has.”

I didn’t disagree with that, cringing inwardly as I remembered the number he did on the

dressing room. Cade drunk as a skunk and opening up to me. Being vulnerable. Being human. I was

letting him explain himself for that guy. The guy that clearly needed a friend.

“So you what?” I said after a moment. “Camped out in front of Jacob’s apartment building?”

I almost snapped the coffee stirrer in my hand in half, remembering what I’d been doing in

plain sight on the balcony of Jacob’s place. I told myself that his surveillance operation couldn’t have

included staking out and observing the coming and goings and activities that went on behind closed

doors. He wouldn’t have been able to look at me without ‘I saw you naked’ being written all over his

face.

“I was parked out front, yeah.”

I let out a sigh and went back to stirring.

“I almost went upstairs. To talk to both of you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” I said honestly. Even though Jacob made it clear that he could control

himself in the name of professionalism, showing up at his place would have been pushing his luck.

“Well I’m going to need to talk to him at some pint. Every time Lisa tries to set something up,

he’s busy or out of the office,” Cade said, leaning against an armchair a few feet away.

He’d been blacklisted, an honor Jacob bestowed on nagging members of the board and

clients that got a little trigger happy with his contact information. The last client who’d been banished

to the list was Rachel Laraby. Apparently, Cade was the latest addition.

But it didn’t do anyone any good to confirm the obvious fact that Jacob was dodging him, so I

just shrugged. “He’s been busy since we got back from Italy.”

“Right.” The word was a tight, uncomfortable response that he cleared with a rumble of his

throat. Cade wasn’t buying my excuse and probably wasn’t very appreciative of the fact that he had to

blow up Whitmore and Creighton’s phone at all. Even though the nature of our business was handling

clients and publicity situations, the word ‘handled’ left a bitter taste in the mouth. For a person used

to being worshipped and having all the power, surrendering it and being powerless wasn’t easy to

accept.

“I want to call a truce.”

I clicked the lid back on Jacob’s coffee. “I wasn’t aware we were fighting. I’m handicapped

from the get go since you decide when you want to be a jerk and I’m supposed to just take it.”

“I’m trying here, Leila.”

I bit my lip, knowing he was right. I either needed to leave or let him explain. I decided on

the first. “Fine.”

“I don’t have many friends,” he began. “I mean, I have guys I can call up for a beer every

now and then. And girls that I can…” He trailed off, averting his eyes.

If he’d played that card a few months ago, I’d be all over it. But I was wary of him,

wondering if he had an angle, waiting for me to put my guard down so he could set fire to my best

intentions.

“I know them all through the business,” he continued. “And I know they’d all lose, block, or

erase my number when the lights die down. Hell, half of the people in my contact book distanced

themselves after I became box office poison.” It was clearly a sore subject because his eyes were

flashing, a stormy sea of green and gray. “Fake as hell. Fair weather friends.” He exhaled. “But not

you. You’re real.”

I wavered, but I didn’t let on. “Thank you.”

“And after everything I’ve put you through, I have no right to ask for your friendship, but…”

He stuffed his hands in his pocket. “I’m asking.”

“When we met up for coffee, it was supposed to be ‘as friends’ and we both know how that

turned out,” I said softly.

“I’m not perfect, Leila. Nowhere near it. And I’ll admit that at first, my intentions were

anything but honorable.”

I could tell he was struggling, wanting to come closer but knowing that wouldn’t make it

better. The Cade I’d been getting to know lately would have done it anyway. This Cade was

respecting my boundaries. Or at least trying really hard to anyway.

“I think that when you meet people,” he went on. “Special people, it’s a good idea to hold

onto them. And I could be a good friend to you, if you gave me the chance.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust that he was different and wasn’t trying to get close

out of some deep desire to sabotage me and Jacob. That part wanted to say yes. To be his friend. But I

wasn’t ready to make that leap. Not yet.

“I should get this coffee to him before it’s ice cold.” I scanned his face slowly and said

something I hoped I wouldn’t regret. “I’d like to be your friend, Cade. But I need time to think about

it.”

His lips broke into a grin and he was practically giddy with excitement until he reined it in

with a curt nod, hiding it away. “Cool. That’s all I ask.”

I sunk my teeth into my lips to keep from smiling myself as I stepped out of the coffee shop.

Hopeful.

****

Megan’s eyes nearly popped out of her skull. “I can’t believe it.”

I did a slow turn, the metallic, slinky material glittering and sweeping around my body. When

I’d woken up it had been hanging in the powder room, every inch of it shining like a diamond. It was

an Aubri Rose dress, made by a local designer who made waves turning down A-listers that

clamored to wear her designs. She chose her clients and Jacob had to make a personal appeal,

describing what made me special for her to create my one of a kind gown.

“I know,” I sighed, almost clutching my warm cheeks before remembering the team that spent

nearly an hour preening every bit of me, turning me into a glamazon I hardly recognized when I looked

in the mirror. They’d wanted to straighten my naturally wiry curls, but Jacob vetoed that. They’d

swept them to one side instead, giving me a silver screen noir look that matched my Old Hollywood

style dress and applied a deep, rouge lipstick that made my lips full and luscious. “It’s amazing,

right? Like Holy makeover magic, Batman!”

“You look great,” she nodded, stepping to the side to let me in. “But I’m more surprised that

Jacob is letting you go to the Soldier’s Creed premiere at all. I kept expecting you to text me and say

the whole thing was off.”

I bit the inside of my jaw to hold back the retort on my tongue. Let me? Jacob doesn’t have

the power to let me do anything…but I knew that wasn’t true. I’d been just as surprised that he not

only signed off on my attendance but insisted upon it.

After I commenced my freak out over my gorgeous dress, he took my face in his hands and

said that he trusted me and it was wrong of him to take me off the Wallace case. He remembered the

dressing room fiasco and how I made sure Cade avoided scandal and said I belonged on the red

carpet just as much as anyone. While Jacob wasn’t one hundred percent sold when I told him about

Cade’s olive branch, he told me he was going to start respecting my professional autonomy.

I shrugged a shoulder, pushing away her statement. “So what can I do to help?” Tonight was

about us and I didn’t want to get into it. Not when she wasn’t even finished getting ready and the car

was downstairs.

She ducked into the bathroom, applying blush as two rollers swayed and bobbed with her

brisk movements. I unclipped them and red curls cascaded to join the others. I could tell she was

nervous, her breathing rough around the edges.

“Everything alright?”

“It’s great,” she squeaked, then snapped her compact closed and slumped. “This blush is too

much, isn’t it? And my ass looks huge and--”

“You look fantastic,” I assured her. And I wasn’t just saying it so we could get out the door.

Her deep emerald sequined dress stopped just past her knees, clinging in all the right places. Her

crimson hair hung in soft waves around her face. And while she was wearing twice as much makeup

as usual, it was the right mix of color and drama for the occasion.

“No, you look great,” she groaned. “I look like I’m lost.”

She clearly wasn’t budging so I raked my mind for something, some way to help her see what

I saw. “Come here.” I drug her by the hand, which was easier said than done since she towered above

me in her stilettos.

She still wasn’t sold but she conceded with a sigh once we were in the hall. She wrenched

her hand from mine, locking her apartment door. “Just hold on a --”

I was already two doors down, banging on the door before going to the next.

“Leila what do you...?” Her voice trailed off as doors swung open, heads popping out into

the hall. A young girl, probably not older than six, was the first to step in the corridor, donning a Dora

the Explorer t-shirt and a curious expression. An older woman remained in the safety of her

apartment, her eyes narrow slits that rounded in surprise when she saw me and Megan. A college-

aged guy stood in his doorway, eyeballing us.

Megan was glaring at me and mouthed, What the hell are you doing?

“Sorry to bother yall,” I said with a big grin, taking in the audience. “This’ll just take a

second.” I moved to Megan’s side and put a hand on the small of her back. “I just wanted to ask a

question—how does Megan look?”

The little girl stepped closer, her wide eyes taking Megan in pensively. “She’s pretty like

Ariel!” When her mother stepped into the hall with a frown, the little girl darted behind her legs,

peeking out nervously.

Megan reddened, turning to the child’s mother. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Marsden--my friend and I

were just leaving.”

The woman scooted her daughter back inside before giving Megan a nod. “You look lovely,

dear.”

Megan was pulling me to the stairs, but there was still the older lady that was staring at her

like she brought back memories and the guy ogling her like she was the reason the word ‘sexy’ had

been created in the first place.

I planted my feet, appealing to the woman first. “She looks amazing, right?”

She flashed a brief, nearly toothless grin. “Muy bonita.”

“Oh my God,” Megan hissed, tugging me closer to the exit. “It’s official, I’m embarrassed,

can we just go?”

I shifted my attention to the guy and he licked his lips, stroking his chin like he was imagining

all the things he wanted to with her--in and out of the dress. The door to his apartment swung open

wider, a young woman joining his side.

“What’s going on here?” she said, not remotely friendly or in the mood for games.

The guy’s whole demeanor changed, tail firmly between his legs. “Uh, our neighbor was just

asking about her dress.”

The girlfriend looked Megan and I up and down, setting us both on fire with her glare before

turning the heat on her man. They disappeared back into their apartment, already arguing as I finally

let Meg yank me down the stairs.

“Thanks for that,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll still be going at it when I get

home.”

“Well, you didn’t believe me when I told you that you looked amazing.”

“Yeah, like any of them would have said that I looked like crap,” she snorted.

I paused at the landing. “We have two more floors before we get to the lobby. If you need a

second, third, or tenth opinion—”

She stopped, turning slowly before blinking up at me. “You’d do that--embarrass the hell out

of me, just to help me feel better?”

“To help you see that you look kick ass tonight,” I clarified, maneuvering past her. “That guy

isn’t getting laid for like, two weeks because he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

She went quiet and we finally made it downstairs. I worried that maybe I’d gone too far,

especially considering the last time we saw each other we’d been at each other’s throats. “I thought I

was helping. If it was too much, I’m sorry--”

“No, I’m sorry,” she interrupted. “I know why you did it and it was really sweet.” She started

fanning her eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Just don’t ever do it again, okay? And about Lucy’s

—”

I felt tears of my own pool and my throat tightened. Now I was going to cry. “It’s okay. I was

out of line and you needed a friend and I was being a horrible one.”

She gave me a tight hug then pulled open the door. “Let’s get out of here before we both ruin

our makeup.”

The limo pulled onto the street, each slap of the tire against the asphalt bringing us closer to

the theater that was hosting the premiere.

“I wasn’t kidding about what I said back at the apartment, Leila.”

I snapped my compact closed and sliced my eyes over to her. “You look great, Megan.”

“Not about that,” she said with a snicker. “So don’t get the driver to pull over so you can

wrangle a herd of strangers to boost my confidence.” She slid her gloss back into her clutch then

hesitantly met my eyes. “I’m talking about you and Jacob. Tonight’s not the result of some argument

and you’re trying to just piss him off by going to Cade’s event, right?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Wow. I really must have been a bitch lately if that seems like a

remote possibility.”

She settled back in her seat, a smirk on her glossy lips. “Your word, not mine.”

“Sorry,” I said with a weak smile. I couldn’t fault her for being shocked—run-ins with Cade

had been the source of a lot of contention between me and Jacob. And considering it had been The

Leila Show 24/7 ever since I climbed on the Whitmore jet, bitch was being kind. I could tell her how

I thought that Jacob and I had worked things out, but it was time for me to be the friend she’d been to

me. The best friend she deserved.

“Tell me what’s going on with you and the new guy you’re seeing,” I said, remembering what

she said in the restaurant.

“Nothing to tell.” She managed to keep her voice light, and if I didn’t know her, I might have

let her shrug it off, but there was an undercurrent of anger. Of hurt.

“I think we both know that’s not exactly true.”

The nonchalant gleam in her eyes frosted over to an unmistakable ‘Danger Ahead’. “There’s

nothing going on with any guy of any sort.”

“Nothing?” I said, not budging. “You were downing margaritas like they were cups of water.

You’re a one-and-done kind of girl when it comes to drinking.”

“I thought we were talking about you and Jacob. Why are you trying to change the subject?”

“Why are you?” I fired back.

She flipped her hair then glanced out the window, then back to the front, then picked at

invisible lint on her dress. Anything except looking me full-on. This guy, whoever he was, had really

gotten under her skin.

“We don’t have time for it right now.” When the car slowed to a stop, we both looked out

and saw that downtown was officially a parking lot.

“Well would you look at that!” I said, crossing my arms. “Looks like we have plenty of

time.”

“You’re really not gonna drop this?”

“Nope.”

She let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. There is no guy. There was a guy, but now there’s just me.

I’m over it, I’m fine. End of story.”

“A story generally has a beginning, middle, and end.”

“And I just gave you a synopsis. Spoiler alert—it’s over.”

“Megan, I’m trying to do right by you,” I explained. “You’ve always been there for me. I can

already tell I’m gonna have to call my mob connections and have some guy offed. At least tell me why

I’m risking life in prison.”

She pursed her lips and I could tell she was holding back laughter. She shifted in her seat,

shaking her head. “Leila, the closest thing you have to a mob connection is an addiction to I Married

a Mobster on Netflix.”

She glanced out the window, clearly wishing the traffic would magically dissipate and she’d

be off the hook. When she realized it wasn’t happening, she gave in.

“The guy is the PE teacher at my school. I’d heard the rumors and was warned about him.

And I swear I was strong and shrugged off his compliments and advances. And then he stuck up for

one of my kids.

This kid was marked for torture from day one. Half the size of the others, he stutters, uniform

is always dirty and wrinkled. I’ve written up every student that’s ever picked on him or even looked

at him wrong in my class, but I can’t be everywhere.

One day after recess, he got cornered and I saw him. The teacher who couldn’t take a hint.

Mark. He had the culprits collared and sent them on their way. That was enough for me to at least

start smiling back when he said hello in the halls. But what he said to that little boy, telling him not to

listen to them, that he was just as awesome as the others, twice as awesome even…” She paused,

smiling at the memory. “That was enough for me to say yes to coffee.”

I knew how much she cared about her students. She purposefully asked for the low

performing ones, the problem kids that other staff had written off as unreachable. She didn’t believe

in lost causes; she believed every single child could be reached. Every single one had potential.

Her school wasn’t known for having many educators that would be winning ‘teacher of the

year’ awards. The things she’d told me and reported were enough to make any person, parent or not,

lose faith in the public school system. It was no surprise that meeting a fellow teacher that took the

time to tell a child something that could make a real difference would make her re-think her no dating

co-workers rule.

“What happened, Meg?”

“He lived up to his reputation.” She craned her neck then sat back. “We’re almost there.”

The limo driver confirmed it as we pulled down a side street. I had more questions, but I

didn’t push it because her attention was solid and unmoving on the street outside. I followed her lead,

taking in the concrete jungle, usually lined with throngs of people going about their daily routine.

Calewood Street was blocked off and black security gates lined the street, policed by event staff. We

joined a procession of limos and luxury cars that inched toward the Bates Theater where the film was

being screened. I could already see the larger than life banners with the main characters hanging and

waving in the breeze, the most prominent a shot of Cade in dress blues, standing at attention with

Soldier’s Creed in big block letters. The red carpet area shone as bright as the echoing flashes of

cameras. I couldn’t believe I was about to walk on it, that I was really, truly at my first industry red-

carpet event.

Megan gripped my hand, the Mark incident forgotten as her face lit up like the stars in the sky.

“You ready?”

I was trembling, terrified down to my very bone and yet I felt like Christmas morning. I was

nowhere close to ready, but at the same time, I wanted the line too move quicker.

The driver stopped and the valet attendant pulled open the door and offered me a hand. I

stepped out, all sounds blurred, crashing into one another, my heart pounding, screaming in my ears.

Megan was beside me, her hand on my forearm. “Let’s rock this bitch.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her sentence and relaxed as we moved forward, stepping onto the

carpet. The fan section was first and we waved even though most were probably more concerned

with the real celebrities and stars they were rushing the fence to get pictures with. I scanned the area

for Cade, but didn’t see him.

I looped my arm through Megan’s and walked through the press area. I leaned in to tell her

something when I heard my name ring out over the clamor.

“Leila! Leila over here!”

I stopped. They couldn’t be asking for me. There had to be some actress that shared my name.

“Leila Montgomery! Can we have a minute?”

I looked at Megan, her lips moving but shock turning her words into white noise. I

swallowed, giving my head a slight shake as it sunk in. They were asking for me. They wanted to talk

to me.

“Leila,” Megan said, taking my arm and steering me back toward the line of reporters. “Go

talk to them!”

“But I-I’m nobody,” I croaked. “I’m just Jacob’s girlfriend.”

“Well you’re the only Leila Montgomery I know of, so clearly you’re somebody.” She took a

step back, like she didn’t want to intrude on the picture, but I held tight to her.

“No way am I doing this alone,” I told her, fear making my voice crack.

She smiled. “You’re the boss.”

I walked over in a daze, still expecting them to look past me to someone else, but a reporter

in a clingy black number and a smile that took up half her face had her eyes locked on me.

“Leila can I ask you a few questions for CBN’s red carpet recap?” The woman’s teeth were

blindingly white and before I could answer, she shoved a microphone in my face. “Who are you

wearing tonight?”

I gave her a shaky laugh and lessened my death grip on Megan. “Aubri Rose. She’s a local

designer.”

“Could you pose for us, Leila?” Another photographer asked.

I took a step backward and put my hand on my hip, mimicking the quiet smiles I’d seen on

countless magazine pages when celebrities were snapped. I tried various poses as other

photographers took notice and said my name, still in a daze that these publications wanted pictures of

me. They weren’t tabloid magazines. EW was here, Getty…

“She looks amazing, right?”

I recognized the gruff playfulness and I turned and saw Cade, his muscular physique tucked

into a perfectly tailored two piece suit.

I smiled and gave him a brief hug, forgetting all the drama that almost kept me from attending

tonight. “You don’t look too shabby yourself.”

“We’ll see if I make the ‘Best Dressed’ list.” His olive eyes twinkled. “You look great.”

“Ahem,” Megan said beside me.

Cade turned to her, extending his hand. “And who’s this?”

I began the introductions. “This is my friend Megan Scott. Megan, C--”

“Oh I know exactly who he is.” She shook his hand, her voice dripping with disdain.

Cade released her with a nervous chuckle. “I, uh…it’s nice to meet you, Megan.”

She pulled her hand away, raising her chin. “Pleasure.”

I jabbed her with my elbow and when she broke off her staring contest with Cade, I mouthed

Behave.

The reporters were saying his name in unison, so I took the opportunity to steer her away

before they captured the animosity funneling off her in waves. “We’ll see you inside, okay?”

His smile broadened. “I’ll find you.”

“I bet you--”

I cut Megan off by yanking her toward the theater. “Me and Cade are on the same page,

remember? Just friends.”

“And if he comes over, I’ll be right there,” she said, stepping up to the attendant at the door.

“Making sure he remembers.”

****

The doors of the elevator stopped and I stepped out, still high from the events of the night.

Cade’s movie, Soldier’s Creed, was more amazing than I expected and I’d shed a tear or two. I’d

swept them away before Megan spotted them, having to be a force to be reckoned with since I was the

only thing keeping her from giving Cade a real piece of her mind.

Her head almost exploded when he followed through with his promise, taking his name card

from the front with the rest of the cast and plunking down in a chair beside us for the screening.

They’d traded barbs all evening like an old married couple. When I’d shared that metaphor with

Megan, expecting a laugh, she just rolled her eyes, saying that you couldn’t pay her money to date

another jock type.

I opened my mouth to tell Jacob about my evening but forgot how to speak because of the way

he was leaning against the counter. He was perched at the edge, cool and relaxed. The sleeves of his

crisp white shirt were rolled to the elbows, khaki colored slacks drawing my eyes to the snug fit

around his groin. I swore I could make out every swollen inch of him—from the mushroom contour of

the head of his cock to the staff curving around his thigh and…

I gulped, heat rippling from my cheeks all the way to my core. Suddenly, the last thing on my

mind was the premiere.

Ice clinked as he took a sip from the glass in his hand. When he lowered it, his gaze flickered

over my body. “How was the premiere?”

“G-great,” I stammered, feeling a fluttering between my thighs.

He arched an eyebrow, scanning my face before smiling slightly. Knowing the effect he had

on me all too well. “You want to talk about it?”

My body screamed hell no, but I eked out a throaty, less desperate, “No.”

He held me captive with his hooded, cerulean gaze. “What do you want, Leila?”

I swallowed hard. “I want to submit to you.” On the balcony, right here, anywhere.

I stood there, heart in my throat, need flashing in my belly, wetness blossoming in the sliver

of lingerie I wore. I'd frowned at the thought of a g-string but in the form fitting dress it was that or

nothing at all. No way was I risking some photographer snapping a shot that would become the

official Leila Montgomery image in a google search. Not that any of that mattered considering I may

as well have been naked from his cool, piercing gaze.

Even though several painful feet separated us and I was frozen in place, I felt like he could

see exactly what he was doing to me. Hear it in the tiny breaths I released. Smell the aroma of lust

that was seeping from me. I was a hop, skip and a jump from falling to my knees. Willing to do

anything to have him.

And that was just the way he wanted it.

He stroked his chin as he moved closer, circling me like a hawk hunting its prey. “You don’t

want to talk about how beautiful you looked tonight? How every pair of eyes in the place made love

to you in that dress?” He reached out and stroked the nape of my neck then swept over my collarbone,

his touch making me tingle all over.

My lips trembled. “None of them matter.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes,” I murmured softly as my heart stomped around in my chest. “What you want, what you

need is the only thing that matters to me. You’re the only one that matters.” I found my zipper and

pulled it down, relishing the feel of the fabric retreating and the way he followed every movement. I

couldn’t tell if his eyes were heating with approval or with the delight at punishing me for undressing

without his permission. That unanswered question thrilled me and I knew that I was hoping he

disproved, hoping that he’d do something erotic and delicious that danced on the thin line between

pain and pleasure.

The dress was a silver, glittering puddle at my feet and I stood with my breasts round,

nipples swollen and pulsing. The only thing that stood between me and total nakedness my underwear.

Whatever coy game he’d been playing was over when he put his glass down on the counter and his

deep, stern tone put equal measures of fear and excitement in me.

“Did I tell you to undress?”

My voice shook, but my hands were sure and knew exactly what they were doing. What they

were provoking. “No sir.” I had a thumb hooked under each string. I started pulling them downward,

peering up at him from behind my thick eyelashes.

He stepped closer, his body tense. “You’re asking for it.”

No, Jacob. I’m begging for it. He watched me pull them down, drinking up the tease of the

dark landing strip that marked the way to my heat before he reached out, gripping my wrists.

“You forget your place, Leila.”

I hadn’t truly submitted since we were back in the office, after we got into it about my

promotion nearly a month ago. What I planned to say next had the power to show him I needed this,

that we needed this, or to push him further away.

“I need my dominant.” I looked at him unabashedly and spoke from the heart. “And you need

your submissive.”

His hold slackened and those eyes, the fierce blue that had the power to turn those unfortunate

enough to spark them to ice, softened. “You think you know what I need?”

“What we need,” I corrected softly.

He let go of my wrists and turned on his heels without another word and I felt the tears in my

chest boiling to my throat. He wasn’t ready. “Jacob--”

HIs back was still to me and he was clear across the room, but his words were clear, slicing

back toward me and echoing in my ears. “You will address me as ‘sir’ until told otherwise.”

I closed my eyes, holding tight to the sound of him letting me back in. I wanted to cry out in

elation, to pump my fists with joy, but I lowered my trembling hands to my side. “Yes sir.”

When he faced me, power and passion flickered in his gaze as he beckoned me with a finger.

“I think you know what’s next. I don’t take lightly to my submissive disobeying me.”

I had to physically make myself take slow, measured steps and not run to him. It was

probably a good thing since my legs were gelatinous and trembling in anticipation for what he had

planned.

I followed him into the bedroom and stood near the bed, but whatever he had planned

wouldn’t be taking place there since he walked to the blank wall directly in front of it. There was a

small black table sitting off to the side and he opened a drawer, pulling out a tiny remote. I took a step

back in surprise when the seam along the center of the blank wall separated and retracted, revealing a

dark St. Andrews cross in a hidden compartment. Recessed lighting cast an ominous glow on it that

made my mouth go dry.

“Come forward,” he commanded.

I moved forward slowly, remembering how I’d barely blinked the last time I’d seen a St.

Andrews cross, enthralled instead by the four poster bed back in his villa. But now I couldn’t take my

eyes off the thing before me. The wood was a dark mahogany color with O-shaped metal rings affixed

on each corner. Once I was strapped to it, I’d be completely at his mercy.

There was a time that the thought of having no control was terrifying and even though I was

no longer that cautious person, human nature turned fear into a tangle lodged in my throat. But I trusted

Jacob. I knew he loved me and would never subject me to more than I could stand.

I swallowed and stood tall, marveling at the craftsmanship of the cross, the fear dwindling

and in its place, fascination at being splayed out for him. I was so entranced by the cross that I didn’t

even notice that he’d retrieved something else until I heard a metallic clink, like a wind catcher

dancing in the breeze. But there was nothing whimsical about what he held.

My eyes widened as I took in the harsh gray cuffs and silver links. “Shackles?”

He didn’t confirm the obvious, kneeling and locking the first cuff around my ankle. I shivered

at the coolness of it. The wariness must have been written all over my face because after he secured

the final one over my last free wrist, he tilted my chin up so he could ask me the million dollar

question.

“What’s your color, Leila?”

I gave him a small nod of reassurance. “Green, sir.”

He leaned in and pressed an electric kiss against my lips. “Good girl.” Still, he gave me a

moment to adjust to the weight before he continued. “The chains will be attached to the cross now—

the process is done electronically.” He caressed my cheek. “Use your word if you need to.”

I bit my lip as I heard a quiet, metal whir and was pulled backward toward the cross. Once I

stopped, the clinking sound of being locked in place sent a flash of apprehension rocketing through

me, but his eyes never abandoned me. I relaxed--even though I was chained to a cross.

“I need to retrieve something for your discipline,” Jacob said once I met his gaze. “Use these

moments to get accustomed to the cross.”

My body was in an X. The pull of having my limbs spread was unnerving but not painful.

From my position, the crotch of my sopping wet panties were flush against my heat. It was a reminder

that I wasn't the same girl that walked through the doors of Whitmore and Creighton months ago. That

girl would be trembling with terror. I trembled with excitement.

Jacob reentered the room, glass of ice in one hand and a thick white candle in the other. One

side of his mouth curved upward as my mouth opened and closed. I'd tried wax play once before and

it wasn't a pleasant memory. When an ex splattered hot wax all over my breasts, my nipples…I

shuddered, remembering the discomforting burn.

Rolling off the bed and covering myself with the sheet had put an immediate stop to that

experiment. But my arms and legs were strapped to wooden planks. What would I do if I wanted to

stop this?

You could use your color, I told myself reassuringly. But even with that safety precaution I

still watched the candle flicker forebodingly.

"What are you thinking? Speak freely."

I hesitated. I was about a hundred percent sure Jacob wouldn't like hearing about my last

encounter with a candle and an ex.

Turned out he liked my hesitation even less.

He put the candle and glass down and came forward, gripping my nipple. Pinching it tight.

I grit my teeth, the slight discomfort becoming undeniable pain as he glared at me. "When I

give you an order, I expect it to be obeyed."

"It's..." I winced, gritting my teeth against the torment. "I've done it before. And I didn't like

it."

Just as yellow became red, the color stinging on my tongue, he released my aching peak.

"Was that so hard?"

I narrowed my eyes to slits, wanting to smart off but knew that would just make him take the

other one. Or worse--reclaim the first. "No sir."

He went back to the table, picking up the candle. "Wax play can be uncomfortable and when

performed by a novice, it can be downright unpleasant." He swirled his wrist, the flame bobbing and

weaving. "At the moment, your comfort level is of little concern to me because you need to remember

that I am in control." He stepped closer and I could smell the wax mixing with the heady aroma of my

arousal. "And as delicious as I find that body of yours, I want to see it on my terms. Not yours."

His eyes cut down to the candle, watching as he tilted it and the glow slanted. I held my

breath and exhaled with a hiss as hot, liquid wax made contact with my skin. It was an electric jolt, a

shock to the system as it hardened. I looked down at the translucent line on my chest. The second drip

landed a few millimeters beside the second and I gasped. It seemed impossible that it could be hotter

than the first. When the third landed I was futilely squirming, trying to pull away from him.

"Your color?"

I spread my lips, sure I would say yellow until I saw that the cooled wax was trailing down

toward the curve of my breast. The sight of him drinking up my reaction, his cool gaze devouring my

body, made a different kind of heat spread in my belly. "Green."

I regretted it as the next drop of wax sizzled, racing around the contour of my breast, licking

my areola before hardening.

I knew where the next splash would land and I braced myself for it, closing my eyes and

knowing the flash of heat would dissipate and leave the tingle of ecstasy. And if he hadn’t just

pinched the solid pebble, the ‘just breathe’ mantra I whispered over and over might have worked.

But there was no breathing through what came next.

White hot wax gripped my nipple and even after it coated my peak and had cooled I still felt

the proof of it ricocheting all over my body. I squeezed my eyes shut, riding the wave and when I

came down I realized that I wasn’t squirming away like before--I was arching toward him.

He leaned in, warm lips skating my jaw. “You want more, don’t you?”

“Yes sir,” I groaned between pants.

The expectation of how it would feel brought every nerve ending alive, opening me up to

sensations that warred for dominance. Delight and discomfort raced in and out of my flesh.

He stepped back and picked up his glass, studying me. “There are two sides of everything.

Right and wrong. Light and dark. Hot and...” He held up a glittering cube of ice. “Cold.” He took it

and pressed the edge against the center of my neck, his eyes studying me as I shivered and sunk my

teeth into the curve of my bottom lip.

The sting of the ice was a stark contrast to the flash of warmth of the candle. I sighed against

the chill then felt my skin warming as he rounded the other breast untouched by wax. He swirled the

cube around my nipple and I moaned, tugging against my restraints, writhing from the sensation. It was

melting…I was melting, disintegrating into a puddle at his feet.

A slave to desire. A slave to him.

The icy temperature turned my nipple into a tingling, ultra-sensitive thing and he leaned in,

holding it still as his lips gripped mine. The fire inside took over as he breathed in my moans.

The icy trail descended toward my g-string and I hissed when I realized the final destination

of that shivering cold cube. I was burning up with need, sure it would fade at any moment, but he kept

going. The ice sent cool flashes through me, making me gasp as it breathed into my intimate folds. He

wasn’t, he couldn’t...oh but he did. The world spun--beautiful, maddening and breathtaking as the ice

cube lingered on my clitoris.

“Beg me,” he said huskily, his mouth hovering above mine. “Beg me to let you come.”

“Please let me come,” I moaned. “Jacob...” I felt my release building, threatening to spill

over and drown me in ecstasy.

The ice was pulled away and replaced by the warmth of his fingers, swirling and flicking

around my swollen bundle of nerves and with a deep sigh, he push a digit inside me.

“Come for me...come now.”

Desire rushed from me and I stretched toward its warm embrace, pleasure shooting out of my

fingers and toes. I was wide open. Strained to the breaking point and beyond. I made wild, abandoned

groans that sounded more animal than human. Feral. Carnal. He was right there with me, eyes closed

as he savored the melody of my climax like it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

I was still lost in the throes of passion, gasping and panting. When he released my arms from

the cross, I nearly tumbled over from exhaustion but after my feet were free, he scooped me into his

arms and carried me to the bed.

I watched him pull his shirt off, revealing his beautiful golden chest, the cuts and planes

flexing as he towered above me. The pants were the next to go and then the last piece of clothing that

kept him from me joined the heap. His lust engorged him and his eyes were dark with need as I

brought my knees up. He moved between my thighs, sheathing himself to the hilt with a single thrust.

He impaled me, sending a moan full of yearning from my open mouth. He drew out, his face rippling

with emotion before he drove back inside. Filling me. Stretching me.

“Come again,” he said hoarsely, his thrusts pounding me into the mattress. “Come with me.”

My second climax monsooned the first. It was different, the symmetry of our bodies, of our

breathing turning it into something poetic. Even though we’d been together countless times, this time

was different. Like we’d reached something, fought tooth and nail and this beautiful release was our

salvation.

I laid my head against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beat in time with my own.

“You’re my forever, Leila.”

His voice was filled with so much naked emotion that my heart swelled in my chest. It left no

room for the past, only our future.

****

I pulled my t-shirt over my bare chest and stepped into a pair of jeans. Jacob was still out

cold, thank god. I was afraid the sound of my cell rattling would wake him, but he didn’t even stir.

I buttoned my jeans as I bounded down the staircase. I had great timing because the elevator

dinged and slid open just as I hit the landing. Billy Meyer, one of the night security guards, was

standing in the foyer, holding a box of pancake mix and syrup.

“Here you go, Miss Montgomery!” His sun weathered face creased in happiness as he held

out the plastic bag.

I took it and fished for cash in my pocket. “You’re a life saver, Mr. Meyer.” I’d decided to

surprise Jacob with breakfast, but didn’t want to hoof it all the way to the nearest grocery store. Billy

was ending his shift and offered to run and grab me some ingredients and bring them up.

“Call me Billy, please.” He didn’t accept the twenty that I held out. “It was only a couple of

bucks. Just consider it a thank you. You’re one of the few people in this building that actually

remembers my name.”

I put the bag on the counter and turned back to him. All the guards on staff were nice, but I’d

clicked with Billy ever since he’d given a photographer that was hounding me a few weeks ago a

stern talking to. He told me that I reminded him of his granddaughter, but I had a feeling that even if I

didn’t he would have been my knight in shining armor. He was just that kind of guy.

“How’s Mindy doing?” I asked, remembering his granddaughter’s name.

“Ready for a break, I think,” he said with a chuckle. “She works so hard.” He touched the

visor of his hat. “Well, I won’t keep you. If you ever need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”

I thanked him again then turned to the kitchen. I had some fruit already cut up; now all I

needed was to not burn the penthouse down while I whipped up some pancakes.

The mix was easy enough since all I had to do was add water and surprisingly, I managed to

pour in two dollops without making a mega pancake or splattering it all over the place. Not that I

couldn’t eat a mega pancake--or a small house. After our first bdsm session in over a month, I felt like

I’d just run a marathon. I was spent, physically and emotionally. But I loved it—it was like we’d

climbed our Everest, a mountain of all of these trials and tribulations—and now we could finally

move forward.

You’re my forever, Leila.

I got goose bumps and couldn’t stop smiling as I flipped the pancakes. My smile broadened

when I saw they were a perfect golden brown. I knew that whatever happened, whatever was next, I

could face it with Jacob.

“You’re cooking breakfast?” His voice filtered from upstairs, still thick with sleep.

I pointed at him with the spatula. “The best breakfast ever, in fact.”

“Is that right?” he smirked, walking down the stairs. He came over, his eyes taking in the line

of orange wedges, strawberries, and grapes.

“Mmhm. So I hope you’re hungry.” I turned back to the skillet and slid the two pancakes onto

porcelain plates.

“It looks great, babe.” He went to work, helping me setup by putting the fruit into two square

bowls. He swiped a strawberry and turned back to me, blocking me in. “I think I might need to sample

something though. Make sure the fruit is of the utmost quality.” His eyes glittered. “Shirt off.”

I made a face. “What?”

“Shirt. Off.”

God when his voice deepened like that...

Heat flared in my belly, in my cheeks, and I obeyed, pulling the t-shirt up and over, letting it

drop to the floor.

When he took the tip of the strawberry and trailed it down the valley between my breasts

before taking a bite, I had a feeling sex was on the menu.

Lucky me, because I was starved.

He took another swipe then offered it to me. My eyes gobbled him up as I sunk my teeth into

the tender flesh of the truth. As soon as I swallowed, the fruit was forgotten as our lips locked and he

pulled me to his chest. He tasted sweet, ripe with lust. I’d never get enough of the way he tasted. I’d

never get enough of Jacob Whitmore.

The elevator dinged and I froze, his lip between my teeth. I released him and snatched up my

t-shirt, bringing it to my chest. “Were you expecting someone?”

He shook his head. “At this hour? Absolutely not.”

He moved past me and I took the opportunity to pull my shirt over my head and tried to make

myself respectable. It had to be someone on his cleared visitors list or else the front desk would have

called up for permission before letting them up in the private elevator.

I heard Jacob’s voice, hushed and dark with anger and I skated across the floor, expecting to

see a photographer, but I stopped when I saw a woman in the foyer. She looked to sleek to be a

paparazzo, dressed in a crisp white suit and stilettos. The tailored fit of her jacket and pants and the

bright, classic color gave her an air of chic sophistication. She had short, cropped salt and pepper

hair and even though I could only make out her side profile, there was something about her jawline

and demeanor. The way she held herself with confidence and authority reminded me of Jacob.

When she faced me, I knew who she was immediately. She had more in common with Jacob

than a presence—she had the same aristocratic nose and patrician features, devastatingly gorgeous

like she’d just walked off the glossy pages of a magazine.

It was Jacob’s mom, Alicia Whitmore.

She moved forward with fluidity, extending her hand. “You must be Leila.” She held her head

high, showcasing her long, lean neck and a glittering diamond necklace. “I’m Alicia Whitmore,

Jacob’s mother.”

I shook her hand gingerly, eyes darting over to Jacob. He looked just surprised as I was. “H-

Hi.”

Her cool gray eyes studied me for a moment before her ruby red lips spread into a grin. “I

was just telling Jacob that I was in town for a charity luncheon and wanted to swing by and say hello-

-”

“And I was telling my mother that she should have called first,” Jacob cut in brusquely.

My eyes darted to him in bewilderment. I knew he had a difficult relationship with his father,

but from the bits and pieces he’d shared of his childhood, he’d always had a solid connection with his

mother. Not to mention the fact that I hoped they were close since he was sharing important facets of

our relationship with her...like a desire to ask me to be his wife. None of it seemed to line up with the

contemptuous vibes he was throwing her way.

If she was taken aback by his comment or reception, it hardly showed on her classically

attractive face, her eyes glinting for a moment before she blinked it away.

I guess the mask was genetic.

“I’m sorry if you were pre-occupied.” Her emphasis was on the word as her gaze detoured

to my chest. When her eyes returned to mine, she gave me a knowing wink that made me cross my

arms uncomfortably. I wasn’t even that close with my own mother.

“We were just, uh, about to have something to eat.” I said, gesturing at the kitchen.

She didn’t wait for further explanation, breezing past and taking in the spread like it was the

most scrumptious thing she’d ever seen.

“How delicious,” she said, popping a grape in her mouth. She chewed and swallowed then

batted her thick eyelashes at me. “Room for one more?”

“Sure/No.” Jacob and I said in unison. I frowned at him and he glared right back.

I ignored him. “We’d love to have you.”

She clasped her hands together with glee, her manicured nails glittering...along with a

wedding ring that eclipsed her left hand. I knew that Jacob’s father had passed away years ago so

seeing it made me feel odd. My inner voice told me that I didn’t know what their relationship was

like, but I felt like Jacob and Allegra’s revelations helped me put together a fairly accurate picture of

what Carlton and Alicia Whitmore’s marriage was like.

Jacob’s father was filthy rich and he had a young, beautiful trophy wife...but she wasn’t just

in it for the money. She loved him. Loved him even though he had an affair that lasted for years.

Loved him when he ended the affair and shut his heart off to both his wife and son. The fact that she

was still walking around with the ring, the very symbol of their love and marriage was...unsettling.

I gave myself an internal shake and walked over to help her with the plates, trying futilely to

hide the fact that I was bra-less. I didn’t exactly have the cup size to pull it off without making it fairly

obvious that I was missing support, so I needed to put something on stat.

I put down the last plate and turned toward the stairs. “I’m just going to run upstairs real

quick and--”

“You don’t have to put a bra on for me, dear. I have a pair of my own and I’m sure my son is

more than acquainted with yours.”

And I was pretty sure every inch of skin on my body flamed red with embarrassment.

So Alicia Whitmore didn’t mince her words. I tried to tell myself that was a good thing, but

from the look Jacob gave her, I think we were both in agreement that there was a line...and talking

about my breasts at breakfast was over it.

I sunk into the chair beside Jacob and realized that ‘look’ wasn’t even the right descriptor for

the way he was eyeballing his mother. He was glaring at her like one more misstep and he’d toss her

from the balcony.

I reached over and gripped his thigh and he blinked, like my touch roused him from a trance.

He glanced at me and gave me a small nod. He was okay for now.

I uncorked the syrup, about to douse my pancake with the sticky sweet sugar until I

remembered. I offered his mother a sympathetic smile. “Sorry we didn’t have any extra, I wasn’t

expecting company.” I pointed at the kitchen. “I could whip you up a couple of pancakes real quick if

you’d like.”

“I haven’t had a-” She twisted her mouth. “-‘pancake’ since I was a child. But you’re such a

sweetheart for offering.” She shifted her eyes to Jacob. “You didn’t tell me she was so sweet, Jakey.”

My fork clattered to the table. Jakey. It sounded so familiar...and then I remembered another

woman using the same name. Saying it in the same whiney, sing song tone.

Rachel Laraby.

“Everything okay, Leila?” she purred.

I told myself it was a coincidence and that Rachel just happened upon the nickname because

there weren’t too many variations for a name like Jacob. The only other explanation would be that

Jacob lied when he said he wasn’t serious about her. She wouldn’t have had any other reason to have

met his mother outside of being his girlfriend and during their meeting, overheard Alicia’s pet name

for her son. There was another, less probable reason, but that was even more troubling. Rachel hadn’t

tried to contact me or Jacob since Italy--could she have contacted Alicia?

I pushed my suspicions away. It was early. I was hearing things. My nerves were playing

tricks on me. “I’m fine, Mrs. Whitmore. Just a little tired.”

She plucked another grape from the vine and popped it in her mouth. She chewed it slowly,

savoring the silence as Jacob and I watched her.

“My son doesn’t keep you too busy does he, Leila? I know he can be quite the slave driver--”

“What did you just say?” Jacob growled, already up, the veins at his temple bulging.

She looked up at him innocently. “What do you mean?”

“Who have you been talking to, Mother?”

I’d never seen him so angry, practically frothing at the mouth. Not even with Cade.

She didn’t even flinch. “Sit down, Jacob. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

I was confused by it all, looking back and forth between the two of them for clarity, but I

found none. Every question led to another. My head was spinning like I’d just stumbled off a Tilt-a-

Whirl.

“How about you answer my question or you can get the hell out?” Jacob thundered.

I gaped at him, flabbergasted by his fury, but finding my voice. “Jacob--”

“Oh don’t worry about him,” Alicia said with a flippant chuckle. “We should talk about you

and I, Leila. You’re going to be my daughter after all--and all I know about you is the scraps I can

glean from Jacob and skimming tabloid rags in the supermarket.”

“Yet another lie,” Jacob scoffed, slowly lowering himself back in his chair. “We both know

that it’ll be a cold day in hell before you do your own grocery shopping. There is no luncheon, is

there?”

She shrugged a shoulder, bringing her mug to her lips. “People change, Jacob. Once upon a

time I wouldn’t have believed the man who called marriage an ‘arrangement for the deluded and

weak’ would ask me for my mother’s wedding ring, but here we are.” She took another gulp and

moaned with pleasure. “This is delightful, Leila. French roast?”

I nodded slowly.

She inhaled it for a second more before putting her mug down. “So tell me about yourself.

Was it always your dream to be swept off your feet by a charismatic billionaire?”

“I am warning you--” Jacob glowered.

I gave him a tight smile. “It’s fine.” I poured syrup onto my pancake. “I studied

communication, marketing, and publicity in college and graduated at the top of my class. Someday, I’d

like to have my own business. Charismatic billionaire or not.”

“I could tell she was smart,” Alicia said, dabbing the side of her mouth even though she’d

only consumed a couple of grapes. “I’m going to use the bathroom then we can finish up here. I know

you two had plans other than spending your morning with me.”

Once her stilettos became a muffled tap, I whipped to face Jacob. “What the hell is going on

with you and your mother? And Jakey--”

“We don’t have nearly enough time to get into that right now.”

“Maybe we should make time,” I hissed. “Because she’s dropping not so cryptic comments

about us. About me. And I want to know how you could go from that letter I found to not being able to

stand being in the same room as her.”

His eyes were still raging, but he let out a sigh, trying to calm himself. “The day after I wrote

her that letter, we had a conversation that changed everything. The things she said…” His voice

trailed off and I could tell he was getting riled back up.

My throat tightened. “About me?”

“About everything,” he corrected. “It took my mother and I a long time to work through our

past and she went from being so excited about meeting you to swearing she’d put an end to us if it was

the last thing she did.”

I dropped my head in my hands. “I don’t understand. I don’t even know her. What happened

to change her mind?”

“I have a feeling that someone didn’t take lightly to the rescission of our contract.”

“If you say that crazy woman’s name...” I left it unsaid as I heard his mother’s shoes click

excitedly as she breezed back into the room.

“Why don’t we just cut to the chase?” she said, dropping the niceties. She walked to the

island and opened her clutch, pulling out a small rectangular case. When she flipped open the cover,

my heart lurched to my stomach. Not many people carried them around anymore, but there was still no

mistaking what was in her hand.

A checkbook.

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

Leila?” She clicked her pen and poised the tip on the blank check. “Because the only way I’m letting

you marry my son is over my dead body.”

###

Thank you for taking the time to read The Billionaire’s Lust. 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