Boxed Set: The His Submissive Series Complete Collection (Part One-Part Twelve) (71 page)

Jacob wasn't nearly as accepting of that as I was.

"This is ridiculous,” he growled. “If she's awake and alert as you claim, why can't I see her?"

"Because she's in the ICU," the nurse answered simply. "As soon as Dr. Schaub comes out—" She turned to the back as the doors clicked open and an older man in scrubs shuffled into our area. "Here he-"

Neither one of us waited for introductions, breezing over to the doctor, dread sinking in at his melancholy expression.

Jacob was a force, not wasting a moment. "I want to see my mother."

The doctor's weary gray eyes scanned Jacob's face. "Mr. Whitmore, your mother cannot handle a high degree of stress."

"Look." Jacob stopped, taking a deep breath and calming himself. "I just want her to see me and know I'm here."

The doctor gave him a look that made me wonder if he did some tabloid reading himself. “If I let you in to see her, nothing should be brought up that could upset her."

"Understood."

He gave him a final look over then nodded. "Follow me." When I took a step in that direction he stopped. "I'm sorry, family only while she's in intensive care."

I saw Jacob gear up for a fight, so I just took a step back, hands up and non-combative. "It's alright. I'll be right out here." He didn't look ready to drop it, so I added, "It's alright. Go be with your mother."

I stood there, watching his taut back fade as he stepped into the ICU ward.

****

L
eaving the hospital was like leaving a piece of me behind. I'd waited in the waiting room, sipping terrible coffee and watching terrible daytime shows about paternity tests and small claims court cases for what seemed like ages until the nurse who refused to let us go back sauntered over and delivered a message. Apparently Alicia was okay and I could go back to the office. For a brief moment, I wanted to send one back and say I'd wait out there for him, as long as it took, but pride and a sinking suspicion that she wouldn't deliver it anyway made me get up and exit. There was a car waiting and I barely had time to pout before I was being deposited in front of the Whitmore and Creighton building like a piece of luggage.

I knew that was overreacting. He wanted time alone with his mother. It was understandable. He deserved it. But I couldn't help but take offense to the fact that it was so easy to dismiss me. Why couldn't he deliver the message himself?

His mother had a heart attack
, I chided myself. It makes sense that she's his focus right now. The little reminder didn't help my mood so I decided to focus on my heavy workload instead. As much as I dreaded a guilt trip from Missy, I had to get a recap of the meeting I'd missed. I made it to the floor and thanked god no one was waiting for the elevator before zipping up to the top floor instead. I was delaying the inevitable, but I was sure whatever Missy needed to say could be said after I had a minute to catch my breath.

I was hoping Natasha would be at lunch, but I saw her perched behind her desk, bright eyes on her computer screen until she saw me and her demeanor went from professional to Stick Up My Butt.

"Somebody's been popular today," she frowned. "I started wondering if I was Jacob's secretary or yours."

"Good afternoon," I said with the biggest smile I could stand. She wanted a confrontation and as much as I wanted to yell and scream, I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. "I take it you left the messages in my office?"

She glared at me from behind her bangs. New haircut. Something short in the front and long and flowing in the back that would have softened anyone else but with her perma-frown and ice colored eyes, she looked fiercer than usual.

"Like I said, I am Mr. Whitmore's secretary," she said haughtily. "You do have a visitor waiting in your office even though I informed her that God alone knew when you would be arriving."

As much as I wanted to snap back, I knew I needed to save that for the person waiting in my office.

Rachel.

Ugh.

From Natasha's eyes shifting back to her computer, I figured the conversation was over. For the first time since I'd met the woman I found myself wanting to linger. Ask about her stylist. Was she Team Vampire, Team Were, or Team Zombie? Anything that would prolong the inevitable. I just wasn't ready to see Rachel's face.

Sensing that I missed her end of conversation nonverbal cues, she slowly lifted her gaze back to me.

"Can I help you?"

Think of something!
"Uh, thank you for all you do."
Wow that was terrible.
I was surprised I'd gotten the lie out with a straight face.

She rolled her eyes. "Uh huh. Look, the poor girl has been waiting to see you for hours-"

A spark of hope flashed through me. "Girl?"

"Yes. Mia Kent."

A smile dashed across my face. "Oh, thank
God
."

Natasha pushed blond strands behind her ear, eyeing me strangely. "I wouldn't thank him yet. She wasn't happy when she stomped in two hours ago and I imagine she's even less so now."

Uh oh. I booked it down the corridor, pushing into my office as I dropped my smile and picked up a frown. The desk was littered with takeout cups and empty pastry bags. I would have let the mess and clear disrespect for my things slide if she hasn't made herself at home, feet up on the desk, powdered sugar covered digits typing away on my keyboard.

"What the hell?"

She froze mid-sentence, fingers posed above the keys, aqua eyes jumping from the computer screen. "Where the hell have you been?" She kicked her worn chucks off the table and stood up. Her getup was somewhere between rockabilly and cocaine chic. She paired a sheer, oversized blouse with liquid leggings. Her hair was tucked under a trucker hat. The only thing worth noting was a lack of ten layers of makeup on her face. Without the stuff gunked on her eyelids, I had no problem seeing just how pissed she was.

I put aside my annoyance at the mess. "I was at the hospital."

Her anger dissipated. "What? Are you okay?"

I nodded, moving to the chair in front or my desk and balling up a pile of empty wrappers and lowering myself with a sigh. "I'm fine. It's Jacob's mother that's not doing so well." I looked up at her. "Heart attack."

She peered at me curiously. "I'm sorry?"

I gave her the smallest of smile. "We don't get along, but I don't actively wish her ill."

She smirked, repeating the two words with more authority. "I'm sorry. For Jacob." She made a face like she was remembering she'd come for a reason and it wasn't to deliver a verbal Hallmark card. "So when were you gonna tell me about Project Save Poor Mia?"

I cringed. "Yeah, about that..." She stood there, hand on hip, waiting. What could I say? It was bad form to gossip about one client to another. "I'll take care of it."

"Righttt," she said, voicing dripping with sarcasm. "Just how are you going to take care of it? I have people texting and emailing me, asking me things like, 'Is Rachel as hot in person as she is onscreen?' and 'How sweet is Rachel for trying to help you?'. As if I needed any other proof that this whole thing had nothing to do with me."

I stared at her in awe. I knew Mia was smarter than people gave her credit for, but I couldn't stop the swell of pride at how she'd come here and confronted me, calling bullshit—even if her anger at me was misplaced. Someone that didn't care about their life wouldn't care, but Mia did.

I shook off the moment, tightening the bun at the nape of my neck. "You have every right to be angry at this situation-"

"At the situation?" she snapped. "No, I'm mad at
her
—and I'm disappointed in you."

That hurt worse than any blow she could have dealt. We'd only known each other for a month, but it felt like I'd always known her. She could be a bit much with the texts and early morning calls, but despite my grumblings I loved that I was the number she called when she was stressed or stuck in some sketchy spot or couldn't sleep. She was more than my client. She was my friend. Which is why I was gonna break the cardinal rule. Well, that and wanting one less person to think Rachel was as kind and relatable as she seemed.

"This morning was my first time hearing about the organization."

"But Rachel said..." Mia didn't finish, cherubic face scrunched as she went through the whole thing again. She slid against the edge of the desk, sending trash fluttering to the floor. She ignored my glare. "I don't get it."

"Rachel and I aren't exactly besties." So I hadn't flat out said that she was a psycho bitch that made breaking up me and Jacob her favorite hobby. I figured I deserved a pass for that alone.

She twisted her mouth into a scowl, still trying to connect the dots. "But why would you two..." The scowl rounded into an O. "A boy. It's always a boy."

"Hey!" I said, feeling a little defensive. He was mine first came to mind even though that wasn't exactly true. He didn't care about her the way he cared about me, but he still used the words. Words that made an already unstable chick skitter over the edge.

I steered the convo away from romance. "We're gonna get a handle on it. I'll take care of it, okay?"

I should have known it was too late for that. I’d already given her a taste of the scandal. The genie was out of the bottle and she had a front row seat to the drama.

“So what’s her evil plan to steal Jacob away from you?” she asked excitedly.

I tried to backpedal. “I didn’t mean it that way. There’s a little tension between the two of us, but that’s because she and Jacob used to date-”

“Oh my god, Rachel and Jacob used to be a thing?!”

My face reddened at how dreamily she said it. Like they were some fairytale come true. Match made in heaven. Truth was, their story would have been a totally different one than his and mine. No one would have asked what he saw in her because anyone with two eyes would be able to see how perfect they were together. No one would have said that he must ‘really love her’ or that their future kids were lucky to have his genes in the mix. They’d say their kids hit the genetic lottery.

Mia waved her hand in front of my face. “Are you okay?”

I blinked, forcing a smile before dropping the lie. “Y-yeah.”

The connection we had called my bluff. Or maybe I was just a horrible actress. “You guys are a cuter couple.”

“Right,” I said said with a snort. “She’s gorgeous, he’s gorgeous. It’s like a real-life movie.”

“And you’re gorgeous. But not just on the outside, on the inside too.” When I flashed her a weak smile she added, “Haven’t you been reading the tabloids? I’m selfish and vapid. I wouldn’t socialize with you if you weren’t at least a 9.”

I chuckled at that, stopping when the phone on my desk rattled to life. I leaned forward and grabbed it, hearing Natasha’s surly voice on the other end.

“Jacob’s on the line,” she barked. “He says it’s important.”

I clicked over, dread returning. “Is your mom ok?”

“Can you come back to the hospital? She wants to see you as soon as possible.”

****

I
clutched the bouquet of roses as I stepped onto the elevator, feeling all the apprehension from being in a hospital multiply considering who I was there to visit. The doors slid open and the nurse from earlier was waiting near the desk.

She gave me a bright smile. "It must mean a lot to know that you're the second person she asked to see. I wish I had that kind of relationship with my mother-in-law."

It meant something alright, I just wasn't sure if it meant something good or something bad.

I kept that to myself. "Is it okay if I go on back?"

"Of course." Her hand dipped below the desk and the secure doors swung open. "Room I-950."

I started down the sterile hall, each step hollow. The corridor seemed too quiet for an intensive care unit. I'd been expecting noise: nurses rushing into rooms with defibrillators, wails of pain and agony, the buzz of all the machines used to keep those bad off with one foot in the world of the living. Instead, it was eerily silent. Like walking through a graveyard.

I hitched a breath when a door thirty feet away flew open like a thunderclap, the familiar, sleekly muscled frame of Jacob stepping into the hall.

I opened my mouth but left the greeting unsaid when I saw his head was bowed. On the phone. Probably business.

Whatever it was must be serious because his demeanor was terse and unyielding. I approached him slowly, frowning as his words reverberated through the quiet.

"I swear to god if you call this number again-"

My flats squealed on the linoleum and he whirled to face me, instantly going from rage to something softer. Eyes still on me he ended the call and started in my direction.

"Who was that? Everything okay?"

The nerve beneath his eye flickered before he wrapped me in a warm embrace. "It is now."

He was definitely avoiding my first question, but his ill mother was in the room a few feet away. I'd give him a pass for now. Besides, the longer those arms were around me, the more everything else dimmed. Work, worry, everything except his scent, his body didn't matter. I held onto him for dear life.

His hold slackened but I kept my cheek against his chest. "She wants to see me."

"Yes." My arms tightened, but he broke the connection long enough to take the sides of my face in his hands. He caressed me with his gaze. "I don't know if it was the close call with death or what, but she'll be on her best behavior."

Yeah...best behavior for Alicia Whitmore or the average person?

I gripped his hand. "You'll be there?"

He nodded, an understanding smile curving his lips. "Ready?"

He wisely didn't wait for verbal confirmation or we might've never gone through the door.

We stepped inside. The room was as regal as I remembered Mia's being. Lush furnishings that reminded me more of some fancy hotel than a hospital. Alicia wasn't strapped to the bed though—she may as well have been considering all the cords snaking around her, binding her in place. And just like Mia, she was a ghost of her former self. Body frail, all skin and bones beneath the hospital gown. Her salt and pepper hair was oily and hung limply around her splotchy face. With her eyes closed I got this sick image of her laid in a casket.