The Billionaire's Past (His Submissive, Part Ten) (7 page)

“You tell me, Alicia. Is suicide a serious
issue?”

Her face paled slightly and the grin that
curled her lips cut as she recovered. “You and Jacob have been
talking I see.”

“That’s right,” I fired back. “Healthy
couples talk about things.” My voice was already high and agitated,
my emotions on my sleeve. “I suppose you’re unfamiliar with that
concept, given your history.” It should have been a zing, plus one
to Leila, but it just felt mean. I could see the effect the words
had on her despite her best efforts and it made me feel guilty.
She’d probably celebrate if I fell off the face of the earth yet
she was making
me
feel like a horrible person. Ugh.

Alicia rolled her shoulders back, shrugging
away my comment. “You’re young, Leila. You know nothing of what a
healthy relationship really entails. Or how something good can turn
rotten.”

“True. But I know I’d never use mental
illness as a way to control my husband and child.”

“Fair enough, but how can you know how
married life will change you? How the years will change Jacob?”

I hated to admit that Alicia Whitmore got
anything right but if I put aside my intense dislike of the woman,
I knew she had a point. I did wonder how marriage would change
things. I knew he was a good man and that he loved me, but his
childhood scarred him. I felt like I was still peeling back layers
of the things that shaped him. That haunted him. As much as I
wanted to believe our love could conquer all, it couldn’t fix the
holes in his heart.

I’d never tell her that.

Ever.

I drummed my nails on the top of my desk.
“I’m very busy, Alicia. What is it that you want?”

“Mia Kent--” I let out a groan but she held
up a hand. “--Let me finish.” Her face changed, looking
almost...human.

I pulled my hands to my lap. I guess I’d let
her talk. I was slightly curious where this was going. “Okay.”

“Her story reminds me of myself.” When I
ducked my chin down a few inches and gave her the most incredulous
look I could muster, she added, “Not that. When I was younger. When
Carlton and I first married.

I told you about how in love I was, but I
talked like we never had any good times. Like he was always
cheating.” She gave me a hint of a smile, lips curling into
something that resembled something genuine. “You should have seen
us. We turned heads.” She twisted her mouth to the side, her eyes
twinkling at some memory of then. “Turned stomachs. We kissed so
much our lips were practically glued together. And we couldn’t keep
our hands off each other. A year in and people thought we were
newlyweds. I couldn’t stop smiling I was so happy.”

Smiling? Happy? Both were words that just
didn’t line up with the cold woman I knew.

“The first time he cheated, I was numb. It
wasn’t real. It wasn’t happening to me. Sure, he had a reputation,
but he broke other woman’s hearts. Not mine. Not his
wife
.”
She brought a finger to her ear and started spinning her pearl
earring. “It didn't help that he promised me it wouldn’t happen
again. That he loved me. So I shrugged it off as something that
happens. The price I had to pay for how great things were 99% of
the time.” She stopped fiddling with her earring, her face
darkening. “And then he did it again.”

I didn’t want to pity this woman. She’d been
awful to me. And as far as Jacob? There were no words to describe
my anger at the way she’d treated him. The way she was still trying
to control him. But I was human and I couldn’t help but feel sorry
for her.

“The second time was different,” she
continued, crossing one slender leg over the other. “And it wasn’t
the fact that the woman was my best friend. That rolled right off
me. That meant nothing. It was the lie that hurt. Feeling like I
wasn’t enough. Wondering if this would really be my life--never
having him fully. I felt like such an idiot for thinking infidelity
was the price of doing business. That I was dumb enough to think
that it was just a one-time thing.

I looked myself in the mirror and wondered if
it was me. If I wasn’t pretty enough. Sexy enough. Just...enough.”
She rose to her feet, unbuttoning the cuff of her sleeve then
slowly rolling it back to her elbow.

She held out her arm toward me, the pale skin
smooth and luminescent.

I quirked an eyebrow. “What am I looking for
exactly?”

“Look closer.”

We were already too close for comfort, but I
inched a little closer, squinting. My mouth opened in shock as I
made out the delicate lines near the crease where her forearm met
her bicep. Tiny silver scars that were nearly faded, making them
easy to miss. Now I couldn’t help but see.

I peered up at her in disbelief. “You were a
cutter?”

She yanked her sleeve back down like she was
embarrassed by the term. “I was just overwhelmed. I couldn’t
control him. I couldn’t control the way he made me feel or my
inability to leave him. But that...” She buttoned the cuff in a
single motion. “I could do that. But each new betrayal and I sliced
a little deeper, wanting to drag it along my wrists. Wanting to...”
She cleared her throat and gave her head a shake like she was
clearing out the images and feelings. When her eyes opened and met
mine it was almost like she hadn’t been talking about how she
harmed herself. That intricately maintained image was back in
place.

“I know that you think I’m a monster, but
believe me when I say that Jacob made me happy. When he was a baby
and looked up at me with those eyes, his father’s eyes--”

Just the sound of Jacob’s name was enough to
remind me what person in this sordid tale deserved my sympathy.
“The things you did to the son you claim you love are
horrible.”

“I’m not a good mother, I know that. But
Carlton--”

I brought up a hand. “Stop right there.
Carlton Whitmore was a prick when you met him. You admitted as
much. You said he even told you he was bad news. Maybe you were
trying to get attention from your parents, feeling adventurous,
whatever, but you made the choice to be with him, Alicia. I’m not
sorry you did because Jacob is alive because of it and I can’t
imagine my life without him. He’s a great man
in spite
of
you and your husband. He is the only thing that matters to me. Not
your sad love story.”

“I’m trying to explain that Carlton is the
reason--”

“NO!” I snapped, bringing a fist down hard on
my desk. The sound was like a gunshot, quieting her. Even I paused
for a moment, surprised I’d done it. “
You
are the reason,
Alicia. Your husband cheated because he was horrible, but YOU
enabled him by not leaving.
You
made the choice to stay in
an unhappy marriage and bring a child into your messed up reality.
You
made the choice to punish the son for the sins of his
father.

Carlton is dead...he can’t atone for what he
did. But you’re alive and kicking and instead of starting over with
your son and trying to be the mother he deserves, you’re, well,
you
.”

She locked her jaw, still not hearing me. “I
know how this looks from the outside--”

“No you don’t. I swear you don’t. If you did
you wouldn’t be in my office right now trying to explain yourself
to me,” I said, crossing my arms. “You’d be explaining yourself to
your son.”

If nothing else reached her ears and really
sunk in, I hoped it would be that. Hearing about her past, her
hurt, it helped me piece together the things that played a role in
the woman she’d become. But none of that mattered to me in the long
run. Jacob mattered. Her sob story was just that--a river of tears
about a society girl who fell for a bad boy. The only thing that
made it worth listening to was that they had a child. Jacob.

They could have sat down and determined that
they weren’t in love and subjecting their child to their
unhappiness wasn’t fair to him, but that conversation didn’t happen
and Jacob paid the price. He was the one that grew up thinking that
his parents didn’t care about him. If Alicia was being honest and
there was love there, he deserved to hear that. Not me.

But Alicia didn’t even flinch.

She rose to her feet. Chin up. Ice on. “Thank
you for your time.”

The anger erupted as I hurled a folder at the
door as it clicked closed behind her, watching the papers flutter
lazily to the floor.

Section Eight

I stood a few feet from the elevator, so
excited I felt like I was gonna explode. The doors slid open.

“Surprise!”

His eyes drifted downward, taking in the new
piece of furniture I was sitting on, his mouth quirking into a
smile. "You brought Mia Kent on as a client. I should be surprising
you." The smile broadened.

He really liked it.

A brand new spanking bench.

His briefcase was discarded unceremoniously
as he circled the thing. Since I ordered it online, I knew I ran
the risk of falling in love with something underwhelming and cheap
in person, but the pictures didn’t do it justice. The mahogany was
rich, the dark stain giving it a sleek, modern edge. The plush
leather cushion had a sloping design that catered to a woman’s
curves. Sterling silver hooks hung below it, waiting for rope or
handcuffs or whatever bondage material that tickled one’s
fancy.

He leaned down, brushing the material, still
digesting what stood before him. “You bought this? Had it delivered
and assembled?”

I nodded demurely. “Something for us.”

Jacob’s stony face reaction when I told him
about meeting with his mother flashed in my head. I gave the woman
the benefit of the doubt, wrongly assuming her conscience would
have led her to at least talk to her son instead of putting me in
an awkward situation. She hadn’t even stopped by his office after
paying me a visit, leaving me to tell Jacob that she felt
comfortable baring her soul to a stranger that she hated instead of
her flesh and blood.

But my exhaustion was more than mental and
emotional. Mia made me work for that signature, calling me all
hours of the night because she wanted coffee. Wanted to go to some
hipster store after hours. Wanted some impossible dish at 2 in the
morning. I could barely keep up, but after I got over the slight
annoyance at her wearing out my cell, I loved it. Hearing about her
past. Sharing my own. It was like having a little sister. But
getting her to agree on becoming a client was the easy part. Now it
was time for the hard work of rebuilding her career.

I looked up at Jacob, his eyes bright as a
kid’s with a shiny new toy. Tonight wasn’t about his mother or Mia
or anything else but the two of us. Tonight was about
submission.

I was ready. My hair was down, wild and free
the way he liked it. I had nothing on other than a ruby red lacy
chemise that made my skin look rich and supple. He picked up the
cuffs I had sitting on the cushion beside me, just waiting to be
secured around my wrists. And my body? He hadn’t even touched me
yet and I trembled. My breasts ached, nipples swollen against the
sultry material that bound them. Goosebumps spread with every
breath I took. My core clenched when he stepped closer. I was
already so wet, so ready that I was surprised I didn't slip right
off the bench.

He tugged his tie loose, eyes drinking me in
nice and slow. “The bench is lovely, Leila.” I closed my eyes as
his fingers sifted through my curls. “You’re lovely.”

I knew he thought I was beautiful. Found my
curls and curves sexy. He could barely keep his hands off me in the
morning when my hair was sticking out all over the place and I wore
the ratty t-shirt that hugged me in ways that used to make me feel
self-conscious. But lovely meant something else tonight. I saw it
shining in his eyes as his fingers drifted to my cheek and he
traced my jawline, hitting the edge but repeating it like he
couldn’t bear to stop touching me. Lovely had nothing to do with
what was on the outside. He saw what was beneath. He saw me.

He raised my chin and took my lips in his,
his tongue melting against mine. The ache between my legs grew and
he paused, smiling against my lips. He could read my body like an
open book.

“I want to see you.” His voice deepened, the
timbre making my core clench with recognition. His bedroom voice.
Low. Sensual. “All of you.”

I went to yank the straps down, caution and
decorum fading as I let my lust take the wheel.

Jacob’s hand covered mine, stopping me.
“Slowly.” His tone had hints of amusement as he released me and
stood back. “We have plenty of time and plenty to do, Leila. Take
it easy.”

I felt a flash of rebellion at his flagrant
disregard at my attempt to show how badly I wanted him. Take it
easy? With him standing there, watching me strip with that heat in
his eyes? My own darted to his crotch and it did nothing but make
me more impatient. His erection made the throb turn into an
overpowering ache. I could make out every thickened inch, wrapping
around his thigh, piercing the tailored seams.

I looked up from the yummy bulge, hoping a
stern look from him would calm me down, but there was no such luck.
The cool mask of my dominant was cracked. His lips were parted,
trembling ever so slightly. Blue eyes watched me intently, like he
was daring me to mouth off. Hoping for it.

I didn’t disappoint.

I hitched a breath, feigning shock as I
yanked the strap down, heart thumping when I heard the static sound
as the material ripped and my breast sprung free. I glared at him
disobediently, taking in the hard set of his jaw before I pointedly
dropped my eyes to his erection.

I bit my lips. “Oops.”

I'd been so sure directly disobeying him
would have provoked him. He would come closer, knot his fingers in
my hair and order me to flip over so he could show me what happened
when I forgot my place. It's what had me watching every line of his
face, practically chanting silently for them to tighten. Looking
into the eyes that pierced, waiting for them to blaze. But he just
stood there, face blank. No, not blank--unimpressed. Bored.