The Billionaire’s Lust (His Submissive, Part Seven) (3 page)

“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?”