Boxed Set: The His Submissive Series Complete Collection (Part One-Part Twelve) (34 page)

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” he said, visibly embarrassed.

I gave him a tight smile. “It’s quite alright.”

“Alright?” He shook his head. “I was out of line. I embarrassed myself and put the movie in jeopardy and by extension, all the people who worked on it. I know I can’t take it back, but I truly, sincerely apologize.”

“Missy left notes but if you just say what you just said to me, you’ll be good to go.” I held out the folder, just wanting to send him on his way, but I could tell from the way he shifted his weight that he was holding on to something else. I couldn’t stand the way he was looking at me, especially when I thought about that kiss. I didn’t trust my voice to not shatter into tiny little pieces so I pleaded with my eyes.
Just take the folder and go.

“There’s something else.” He didn’t see my request or chose to ignore it. “I want to apologize to you most of all, Leila.”

“That’s alright.” God, it was like that was the only word in my vocabulary. “Really.”

He rubbed his chin, drawing my gaze to his mouth. I turned away from him, going to the file cabinet and shuffling through the folders, trying to give off the appearance of being busy and mask the fact that I was fighting to keep my emotions at bay.

“Don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge.” My stomach flipped and flopped as I heard him move and it was definitely not the way he came. “I really have a lot to take care of here.”

“About the kiss-”

I slammed the drawer closed with a bang. “Just let it go, Cade. You were drunk, you kissed me for like five seconds and then it was over. It’s not a big deal.” Oh but it was. It was a huge deal. Why else would I be dialed up to a hundred?

“If I could just explain, Leila-”

Goosebumps raced over my skin as he put a hand on my shoulder and I lunged away, almost tumbling over my chair in an effort to get away.

“You don’t get to touch me. Not after what you did.” I stared him up and down. “You’re sorry—duly noted. I don’t need you to say anything more than that. I don’t care about your explanation. I just want you to leave.”

“But I-”

“Are you deaf?!” I shrieked, my cool, my sanity slipping right through my fingers. “Maybe you’re used to ignoring everyone’s feelings but your own. Kissing who you want. Fucking who you want. But I said that this conversation is done. Over. I don’t want you. I don’t need you. I’m not your wife!”

He reared back like the smack I’d attempted last night finally landed...and blew him away. He’d gone too far when he pressed his mouth against mine, but I’d just bested him. Using her name as a dagger, sinking it deep in his chest, was lower than low.

I’d
gone too far.

The cool he’d exuded melted as sweat exploded at his temple, shooting past bulging veins. His green eyes were flints of ivy as his nostrils flared. He edged closer and panic gripped me tight, pinning me in the corner. My back was pressed against the file cabinet and I realized that maybe there was something to those rumors about his temper. There was no alcohol in my system to screen any of this. This was pure, unfiltered Cade...and I wondered if he was going to explode and knock me out flat.

I put up my fists. I didn’t stand a chance, but at least I’d go down swinging.

He ground to a halt, all the color draining from his face. “You don’t think-” The anger in his eyes became something else...shame. “Oh God. Leila I would never...” His voice was pinched and painful. “I would never,
ever
hurt you. You have to know that.”

I relaxed my fists, but I still held them out, creating a barrier. “I’m not so sure, Cade. I don’t think I know you.” I dropped my hands to my side, but I wasn’t done. “You’re smiling, you’re charismatic, then you’re depressed and a hack. You’re a sage, telling me about the pitfalls of fame and then you court it by snapping up photographs. You lose your shit at the studio in true rock star fashion then tell me you miss simpler times. It’s confusing, Cade. And I don’t want any part of it.” I took a breath. “I’m not sure why you chose me, but un-choose me. I can’t take any more of this.”

He moved to the door, his face hooded and unreadable.

Before he turned the doorknob I added, “And I’m off your case. We have no reason to communicate. Ever.”

He glanced back at me. “You’re right. You don’t know me. I know I can be an asshole. I can be a guy that no one wants to know. But I’m certain of one thing—you make me want to be better.”

He left without another word, dropping the bomb. Leaving me to deal with the confusing fallout.

I knew Jacob was in a meeting, but a glance at my watch told me he should be back. I was glad that Natasha wasn't at her desk, because I knew my run in with Cade would have been all over my face.

Jacob’s door was open and the office unoccupied but I stepped inside, hoping that just being in his space would help calm me down.

Standing up did me no favors so I sunk onto the chaise. I dropped my hands off the side, running my fingers along the fibers of the rug until something sharp cut into my finger.

I brought the finger to my mouth, the grating sting obviously a paper cut. I searched for the culprit, thinking maybe a document fell from a folder, but there was only a single, white envelope.

I brought it up to the light, my heart jumping in my chest when I saw it was addressed to Alicia Whitmore.

Jacob's mother.

You know that voice in your head whose whispers you hear during important points in your life, trying to steer you onto certain paths? Mine told me to just put the letter back.

It wasn't for me. It was none of my business.

I ignored it, untucking the flap and pulling out the note. I recognized Jacob’s handwriting immediately.

I told myself I'd stop after I read the first sentence.

I appreciate the offer to come to The Hamptons.

Just a few more sentences
.

And I’m glad that you’ve come to a decision about giving me Nan’s wedding ring-

My mouth went dry. Wedding ring? My head spun and I couldn't help but squeal with delight. Jacob was talking to his mom about proposing to me?!

-but I think I may have been a little premature in asking for it.

Dread crept in and locked its fingers around my throat.

You told me about your regrets, and how I should never take marriage lightly. If I'm being honest, I'm not sure if I'm ready to take that leap. I'm not sure about a lot of things.

I’m not sure where Leila and I stand.

I let go of the paper, watching it flutter to the ground. I tried to convince myself that my eyes deceived me. That he'd written those words out of anger, when the wounds from Cade were still fresh.

But there was a date at the left corner of the paper.

Yesterday's date.

Part Seven

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 his 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, filling 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 Taqueria 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.

“Doest the school district have 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 looked at
me
like I would be the one to know such things. “No idea.” She fondled a button on the front of her cardigan then shrugged her shoulders, 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," I started.

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 studied 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 either, the OMG! that every girl hopes to share with their best friend when her special someone 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.”