The Billionaire's Promise (BDSM Erotic Romance) (His Submissive, Part Eight) (2 page)

BOOK: The Billionaire's Promise (BDSM Erotic Romance) (His Submissive, Part Eight)
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Since it
was Saturday afternoon, Natasha had the day off and was busy sharpening her nails to talons or making someone else’s life hell. I was glad that she was far from an over-achiever because I was 99.9% sure if given the option for a front row seat to this conversation she would have shown up, popcorn in hand. Dealing with Rachel would be tiring enough. The elevator doors hadn’t even slid open and I already felt like I’d gone through a battle, clutching Jacob’s hand for strength.

“It’ll be fine,” he assured me, releasing my hand and tightening the knot on his tie. “She’s going to admit she was behind this, cease her incessant meddling and then she’s going to get the hell out of my building.”

He seemed so confident, so sure. And on some rational level, I knew he was right. Rachel wasn’t the Boogeyman. She didn’t have any supernatural abilities or power that we didn’t give her.

In all honesty, I was starting to regret calling her to the Whitmore building at all. Jacob was right when he
said we should have let it go. Focus on what mattered. Focus on us. But there was this niggling feeling, this itching thought that wouldn’t go away. We’d been ignoring her and that hadn’t worked. What if she needed to hear flat out that she was wasting her energy; that she and Jacob were never, ever getting back together?

But second thoughts were irrelevant. The
chrome doors pulled back and revealed the one person I’d be happy never meeting again.

Rachel was clad in a crisp,
navy sheath dress. The rectangular neckline drew the eye to her swan-like neck and two goliath-sized diamonds in her ears. Her chocolate brown locks were shorter than I remembered, cut in layers with honey colored highlights glittering throughout. She pushed her oversized shades to the crown of her head, her dramatic gasp of delight matching the smoky eye shadow that framed her jade green eyes and the rouge gloss at her lips.

“Glad to see you two made it back on the other side of the pond in one piece.” She said with a smile so big
and phony it contradicted every single word. “And if the rumors are true, I feel
so
honored that you left your love nest to spend your Saturday afternoon with me.”

“Trust me, I have about a hundred places I’d rather be than standing here l
ooking at you,” Jacob said tersely, glaring at her with such disdain that I felt it flowing off him in waves. “I’m in no mood for games, Rachel. The quicker we get this over with, the quicker we can go our separate ways.”

“Always b
usiness, eh?” Rachel purred, moving closer with long, predatory strides. She tossed a look my way. “You and I know better, don’t we Leila? Jacob Whitmore
loves
to mix business with pleasure.”

Jacob geared up to step
in front of me, but I shook my head. “It’s okay.” Now that I was face to face with her again, I was remembering that when it came down to it, she was all bark and very little bite.

“You look well, Rachel,” I said with a
half-smile, remembering a few choice reviews of her latest film. “Especially considering what some were saying about your last performance. Phrases like, ‘career ending’ and ‘soulless’ come to mind.”

She paused, her eyes flashing angrily
like she was about to pounce, but she deflected the blow with a laugh. “Can’t please everyone.

“Whatever helps you
sleep at night,” I said with a shrug.

Her lips curled tauntingly. “You know, e
ven if I never make another film, I’ll be remembered for the award winning ones along with the stinkers. If you dropped off the face of the Earth, you’d just be the overweight secretary that Jacob Whitmore dated that one time.”

“Wow,” I chuckled sarcastically. “Less than
five minutes have passed and you’re already calling me fat. I’d say I was surprised, but I’d be lying.”

“Oh you ain’
t seen NOTHING yet.”

“This
was a mistake,” Jacob ripped in hotly. “If you think I’m going to stand here and let you--”

“It’s okay,” I repeated tightly, not wanting him to fight this battle for me
. I couldn’t handle his mother, but I could handle this spoiled celebutante. Hearing her disparage me, trying to make me feel little just proved how insecure she really was. Why else would she waste her seemingly precious time trying to break up my relationship? “We’re not here to trade barbs. I’ll concede right now--you’re far better at being a bitch than I am. Congratulations. We’re here to talk about what you’ve been up to.”

She cocked her head to the side, playing dumb. “You want to know I’ve been up to? Shopping, reading scripts, spa day here and there--”

“Cut the bullshit, Rachel!” Jacob snapped.

Even though Rachel was doing her best Innocent Bystander, she shifted uncomfortably beneath his glare before she brought out the claws. “Are we really talking bull bec
ause I have a laundry list. I pay this firm’s astronomical fee and I’ve been relegated to the back burner. My publicist obviously has a full plate, you’re always out of the office--”

“If you are unsatisfied with the Whitmore and
Creighton experience, I would be MORE than happy to recommend other firms to better suit your needs,” Jacob said without pause.

“Oh you
’d
love
that wouldn’t you?” she said with a frown. “To get rid of me, pretend that we never happened and I was just some speed bump on the road to Happily Ever After?”

Something in her voice caught me off guard. It was more than petty jealousy or the petulant tantrum of a starlet used to getting everything she wanted. It reminded me of the
way her eyes roped him in, lost in a memory when they shared a moment at the press conference. It was the look of someone whose heart was breaking.

“What I would love is your comprehension and acceptance that the past is the past and I want ab
solutely nothing to do with you,” Jacob said acidly.

I cleared my throat
and tried to snuff out the burning questions my own insecurity drummed up. “A-And I’d like it if you stopped lying to Jacob’s mother.”

“Lying?” Rachel
snorted. “I’m the only person in this room that’s telling the truth.”

Jacob had enough.
“You psychotic--”

“Jacob,
let it go,” I hissed, standing between them, knowing a straight line from him to her could be disastrous. From our run-in with his mother, I knew it wouldn't take much to rocket him from simmer to full-on boil. And as much as I just wanted to shake Rachel until her teeth rattled, tough words being exchanged wouldn’t make her see anything. If nothing else, it would just ensure that we just got hoarse yelling back and forth, teeth bared, dangerously close to doing something that would land someone in jail for assault. That wouldn’t solve our problem; it would just create a new mess of them.

So I gave her the audience she obviously needed, despite the
tiny voice that reminded me that the last time I attempted to listen to Rachel, it didn’t fix a damn thing. “What do you mean you’re the only one telling the truth?”

She didn’t waste a single moment wondering why I didn’t want to throw her out on her
ass. “First off, you’re lying to yourself thinking that he’s not going to get tired of you. That your novelty won’t wear off. You’re not the first spunky chick that’s caught his eye and I would bet every cent I possess that you won’t be his last.”

I was already regretting letting her run off at the mouth. Not because I feared she’d uncovered some deep, dark fear but because it was just the same
old song on a different day.

I’d spent precious time wondering if Jacob and I had an expiration date, worrying that at some terrible moment he’d wake up and real
ize that somewhere out there his perfect match was waiting; someone who rivaled him in the looks department, setting fire to every magazine page or blog that held images of them.

But I didn’t entertain those thoughts
anymore because I knew that every time he looked at me it was like he was seeing me for the first time. In his eyes I saw that he couldn't believe how lucky he was. Like he was falling in love all over again. My faults, his faults, and other people’s expectations didn’t stand a chance when face to face with the way he loved me. I’d always have moments when I wondered how the hell I got so lucky--but so did he.

Her truth
wasn’t some sagely observation--it was the demented ramblings of a desperate woman. “You were right, Jacob.” I faced him with a sigh. “We never should have seen her.”

Jacob pressed his lips against my forehead and reached for the phone on Claudia’s desk. “I’ll have security escort her to the parking deck.”

I was so frustrated that I’d given her what she wanted yet again. She obviously wouldn’t know the truth if it smacked her upside the head and if I thought she’d be straight up about talking to Alicia or offer some insight as to why she was fixated on us, or one better, apologize, then I was as deluded as she was. I just wanted her gone. I didn’t want one more second wasted on her or her lies.

“I did talk to Al
icia, okay?” she blurted out.

Jac
ob and I exchanged a look of surprise. I was the first to turn back to her, pivoting slowly, warily, like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. If Rachel Laraby was being honest, there had to be some catch.

“We’re listening,” I said softly.

“I’ve had Alicia Whitmore’s contact information for a long time,” she continued, looking back and forth between me and Jacob like she was afraid that if she lingered on one of us for too long the jig was up. “Back when Jacob and I were together, he talked about how difficult their relationship was. How rough things were when he was a child--and how they were trying to start over after his dad passed away.”

I sucked in my breath, hoping the gasp was only audible to me, but I could tell that Jacob caught it from the way his grip tightened.

His voice was low and adamant. “Leila--”

“Let her finish,” I said hollowly, feeling the familiar ache of worry settle
back in the pit of my stomach.

He said they were over before they began. I
f that was true and they hadn’t been close and opened up to one another, how the hell did Rachel know about his relationship with his mother?   Why was she wielding knowledge that I had to pull teeth to retrieve and left me nowhere near prepared for the shitstorm that descended just this morning?

I never thought I’d say the words ‘truth’ and ‘Rachel Laraby’ in the same breath, but it was obvious that there was a grain of truth to what she was saying.

And that Jacob hadn’t been completely honest about their past.

But f
or someone that was a chatterbox seconds earlier she shut her mouth up tight.

“I
thought you had things to share?” I grilled. “Lies to reveal? People to villainize?”

She put a hand on her hip, emboldened by the fact that I was giving her the mic at all. “I’m not saying another word while he’s still in the room.”

“That’s rich,” Jacob said incredulously. “You call my office everyday with some emergency or life or death interview that requires my assistance and now you want me out of here? Why? So you can lie without me there to refute it?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” she said, dropping every word like acid. Sh
e pointed at me. “It’s up to you. I’m not saying a single word more with Jacob staring like one look from you and he’ll throw me through the window.”

I peered at Jacob and his cerulean eyes nearly bulged from his head. “You’re not being serious. You’re not g
oing to listen to anything she has to say, are you?”

“I jus
t want this done,” I said, my voice practically a whisper. “I want everything out in the open.”

“And you think she’s the one th
at will give you that? That she wants to end this? Rachel is the very reason we’re in this situation at all!”

“And now that we’re here, what harm comes from letting her speak?”

“How about the fact that she’s certifiable and every word that comes out of her mouth is toxic?” He looked at me like I was the one that was crazy. “After the stunt she pulled at the hotel, how can you believe anything that she has to say?”

“Because I know that look she has in her eyes
every time she stares at you!” I said, emotion flooding my screech. It was the same one I had when I thought I’d lost him. It wasn’t the look of someone pining over something they never had. It was the look of someone who knew exactly what they’d lost.

I couldn’t focus on that
and
the hurt on his face, so I looked at Rachel, focusing on getting this over with. “We can talk in the lounge area behind you. Jacob will stay here.”

“I don’t want him--”

“We can talk over there--” I interrupted fiercely. “--or you can leave.”

She frowned
stubbornly, but spun on her heels and sashayed to the leather couch on the wall. She lowered herself onto the cushion and crossed her legs, gesturing beside her. “You might want to sit down for this.”

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