The Billionaire's Forever

by Ava Claire

  I tried to keep my voice low and level. "Let me explain, Mom." At least let me do that much.

  "Let you explain?" she scoffed. "When? As you walk down the aisle?" Her voice carried, just like it always did. But it was twice as embarrassing as usual because unlike all the times when I was growing up and she scolded me, I was an actual adult. And all the people who looked down their nose at me like I didn't belong had a surety in their sidelong glances. Like they'd been right about me all along.

  "Before you sign one more check, let me tell you what my daughter wants--"

  "No, Mom!" I said shrilly, all the frustration and minced words rushing to the surface. "I don't need you to save me or speak for me. I am fully capable of speaking for myself." I smacked down the tiny part of me that snickered at that, considering my lack of speaking up for myself was the exact reason the situation had escalated.

  "If this is about the date, we can change it, dear,” Alicia offered.

  She said it so simply, borderline flippantly. Like I was a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum. She too wasn’t listening. She was dismissing me, just like my mother--she was just doing it without raising her voice.

  And it was the straw that broke the camel's back.

  I stood up, tears filling my eyes and turned on my heels. The sound of them calling after me crashed into the other sounds of the restaurant. I needed the screech of the city to drown out everything but my racing heart. I just wanted to get away from everything. From everyone.

  Leila Montgomery finally reclaims her backbone, then storms out of the room like a coward.

  I didn't let the tears fall until I got outside--where paparazzi were waiting, ready to immortalize the moment forever.

  ****

  Jacob walked in and I didn't even look up from my phone. My fingers had never gotten so much exercise. When Mom called, my thumb angrily hit ignore as I went back to my novel sized text to Megan, explaining how and why I wanted everyone to go straight to hell. Just as I was about to wrap it up, Alicia would call and I'd remember something I'd forgotten, a look or emphasis on some word that pushed me to the edge. And then Mom would call, again, and the cycle would start all over.

  He walked over to the living room where I stood, catching my breath from pacing back and forth.

  "I said, 'Honey, I'm home!'."

  He hadn't, actually. It was clearly his attempt at a joke because without me saying a word, he knew something was up. It probably didn't help that my arms weren't wrapped around his neck, pulling him close like we hadn't worked near each other for the past eight hours. Unless we carpooled, seeing each other after work was a reunion, something worthy of kisses and butt-grabbing.

  I grunted, finally finishing the text I was composing with 'ugh' and sending it on its way. I dropped the phone onto the couch cushion a few feet away. It didn't last very long in its new position because he picked it up and lowered himself in its place.

  "So you holed up in the office all afternoon and shot out of the building like a rocket as soon as the clock hit 5pm. I take it brunch didn't go well."

  "How perceptive of you," I said bitingly. When I met his glare, I chewed on my lip and let out a heavy sigh. "Sorry."

  "Want to talk about it?"

  "Not especially." I avoided his gaze, knowing his eyes on me wouldn't let the silence fly. I wasn't ready to recap the disaster that unfolded at The Plum Cafe. There was no way to rehash it without finally doing the thing I’d been dreading.

  Telling Jacob the whole truth.

  I already knew how this would play out. He'd look at me, disappointment coloring his eyes as he asked what happened to Leila the Conqueror. And I wasn't ready to answer that because it meant taking a hard look in the mirror. Wearing a truth I never thought I'd wear. Admitting that I was being a little bit cowardly.

  How in the world was it easy for me to tell an international superstar to kiss my ass but I couldn't tell my mother, future mother-in-law, heck, my future husband, what was in my heart?

  But I couldn't play dumb with myself. I knew exactly why. Those whispers of self doubt that I pretended to ignore festered. The closer I got to becoming Mrs. Jacob Whitmore and the more people scoffed, placing cyber bets on how long we'd last, the easier it was to let the doubts wrap around my heart. The doubts reminded me that I was so lucky that he picked me at all. He was one of the richest men alive. The fancy, ostentatious wedding was his birthright. I didn't have much to give him--but I could give him a wedding fit for a billionaire.

  I went to the kitchen, bypassing the bottle of wine that I really wanted and opted for a glass of water instead. "So if you haven't seen them already, there are going to be some pictures of me doing the ugliest crying you've ever seen."

  Finally. That was the real me pushing to the surface, because I knew there was no way he'd drop this if he knew it moved me to tears. The woman I knew I was didn’t give the fear a chance to laugh it off and pretend I was joking.

  He was up, striding to the island where I stood. He took the glass of water from me and put it on the granite countertop with a click, then took my hands in his strong, sure ones. “What’s going on?”

  I looked down, not wanting to meet his gaze because I was already open and raw and I didn't want to cry again. I'd done more crying in the last two weeks than I'd done in my whole life.

  But that wasn't an option because he hooked my chin and gently, but firmly, tilted it up until my eyes were in line with his. It was a gorgeous chin, chiseled and aristocratic, just like everything about Jacob, but I wouldn’t look up any higher. I knew I was being stubborn. I couldn't keep him out. We were going to be partners. That meant I didn't have to shoulder this alone anymore.

  I ran my eyes over the curve of his delicious lips, the angle of his patrician nose and paused on the deep blue of the eyes that made me melt. I was a puddle, stripped and bare. I saw how much he loved me. How frustrated he was because I kept him on the outside. I was the one that taught him how important it was to communicate, and I wasn’t even practicing what I preached.

  I let out a sigh, coming clean. "Lunch was terrible."

  His fingertips smoothed over my cheek. "I've gathered that much, love. All the more reason why you should have let me come with you."

  "No, because it was supposed to be us girls--" I snapped my mouth shut. That wasn't true. I didn’t invite Jacob because I’d made a pact with myself. I'd decided to shut it all down. I was finally going to be honest about the wedding I wanted. I could handle their flabbergasted response, but Jacob's would have cut like a knife.

  I swallowed hard. "That's not true."

  His forehead wrinkled as he frowned. "It wasn't a girls thing?"

  I shook my head. "It was, kinda. But that's not why I didn't want you to come."

  "Why didn't you want me to come, Leila?"

  "Because it meant admitting I've been lying to you." When his expression hardened, I tried to soften the blow. "It's nothing hardcore. I mean, it is serious--"

  "Just tell me what's going on," he said, cutting through my jumbled confession. He tucked a curl behind my ear. "Serious or not, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

  I brought a hand up and covered his. He's not going anywhere. I didn't realize in that moment that some ludicrous part of me had been worried about that as well.

  "I was worried about finally coming clean about the wedding," I said gingerly. "After all your mom has done to give us this amazing ceremony, I was worried about hurting her feelings, your feelings, by admitting that I didn't want a big ceremony."

  His hold slackened, blue eyes slowly drifting over my face. "What?"

  I sucked in air, feeling the heat of shame pricking my face. Was he really going to make me say it again?

  He waited. Yes, he is.

  "I don't want a big wedding,” I repeated, my voice soft and guilty.

  He released me altogether, digesting what I said. "You don't want a big wedding?"

  I shook my head slowly. "No, I don't."

/>   He raked a hand through his dark, wavy locks, his expression unreadable.

  Crap, I thought, burning with frustration. Not the mask, not now.

  He turned away from me altogether, crossing his arms against his chest, muscles rippling beneath his button down shirt.

  I felt like my throat was on fire. I didn’t want to move before I got some sort of reaction, but I needed something to sooth the irritation. Steel me. I found my glass and chugged the water. Naturally, it did nothing to dull the burn or loosen the tightness in my chest. I wasn't sure how I expected him to respond, but I knew silence wasn't it. I couldn’t handle this deadening quiet.

  His confusion made sense. Who was I? The Leila he fell in love with had a voice. She spoke up, even when it was inappropriate. And how could I have just settled for my own wedding? What happened to my backbone?

  But he said nothing.

  And it was driving me insane.

  I slammed my glass on the counter, wheeling to face him. "Go ahead. Tell me how crazy I've been for just going along with this. Tell me how disappointed you are in me."

  He looked at me, eyes quiet, lips parted. "I'm not going to yell at you or beat you up about this.”

  My fingers trembled, my glass almost crashing to the floor. “You’re not?”

  “I’m not,” he answered. “It's pretty clear that you've been beating yourself up for awhile now. Probably since our first conversation with my mother when she started talking about how she'd put on the perfect Whitmore wedding."

  All this time I’d been hesitant to be honest, worried about how he’d respond to me chickening out time and time again. Every time Alicia shared some new item and I feigned excitement.

  I slumped my shoulders, a mixture of relief and frustration flooding me. "I should have spoken up."

  He nodded, but there wasn't anger or disappointment in his voice. "Yes."

  "I just thought that was what you deserved--"

  "I'm going to stop you right there." He crooked a finger and beckoned me closer. I inched forward a few inches, but his look told me he wanted me closer. I moved until I was close enough I could feel heat radiating from his body and love sparking in his eyes.

  "Listen to me very closely." He paused, tilting his head. "Are you listening?"

  I gave him a look. "Yes, I'm listening."

  "Good." He leaned in closer, eyes staring down into mine, capturing me and not letting me go. "The only thing I deserve is you. The only thing I want is to spend the rest of my life showing you every definition of happy. And that starts with declaring that you're it for me Leila; that I want to be your husband and I want you to be my wife. If that means a stuffy wedding where we don't know half the people, so be it. If it means going down to the courthouse right now, I'll bring the car around. So you tell me what you want. I want to make your dreams come true."

  I traced his jawline with my fingertips, finally saying what I should have from the start. "I just want it to be the way it was when we started. Just you and me. Passion. Romance. Us." I thought back to all the pressure of the expectations of our ceremony and added one last word. “Escape.”

  He claimed my lips, sucking all the air from my lungs. I was putty in his hands. He tasted sweet. Like forever.

  He pulled back and pressed a kiss against my forehead before he broke away, pulling out his cell. "Hi, I need a car to take us to the airport."

  "Airport?" I repeated. "Jacob, what's--"

  "Fifteen minutes?" he said, nodding slowly. "We'll be downstairs." He slid the phone back in his pocket and gave me a mischievous smirk. "You better pack quickly."

  "What? Pack quickly? Pack quickly for what?"

  "You said passion, romance, us and escape? The first place my mind went to was the Caribbean." He roped an arm around my waist, sending a flash of lust to my groin. "We're eloping."

  ****

  As soon as the pilot announced that we were at a safe altitude to power our devices back on, I pulled my phone from where it was perched beneath the magazines, trying to hide the fact that I was hoping boatloads of money meant that I could snag reception long enough to let Megan know what was going on. The last time I’d been whisked away by Jacob Whitmore, I'd barely plunked out a leaving the country text. She was my bestie, I had to do better than 'eloping kbye'.

  Jacob shifted across from me, ice clinking in his glass. "You're not nearly as smooth as you think you are."

  I batted my eyelashes innocently. "Not sure what you mean."

  "You've been trying to use your phone since the wheels lifted off the ground." His eyes glimmered like the ocean. "What was so important that you risked some sort of fluke electronic mishap?"

  I jutted out my lip stubbornly. "Oh come on, there's no way my little cell phone can bring down a plane this size. I don't know how many times I've flown with my phone still on and the plane didn't crash and burn."

  “There have been multiple instances where flight crew have reported cell phone signals interfered with communication systems which could interfere with navigation.”

  I gulped, looking down at the phone in my hand with genuine horror. Jacob's face was drawn and serious--until one side of his mouth started twitching.

  "Oh my god!" I hissed, chunking my cocktail napkin at him as the twitch became a full-on grin. "You scared the crap out of me."

  He clicked his seat belt, rolling up his sleeves with a smirk still at his lips. "Good. I like knowing I can still surprise you." I didn't know why, but the way he said surprise made me blush furiously. There was something dark and sexy in the word. What kind of surprises did he have planned?

  I tilted my head slightly, remembering the sleeping quarters just behind us. Remembering the last time we were in this jet, finding it impossible to keep our hands off each other.

  Focus, I told myself sternly. Megan had jokingly told me not to get so frustrated with Jacob's mom and planning that I did exactly what we were geared up and getting ready to do. She tried to act all tough and over the stereotypical squeeing maid of honor, but I knew she really was looking forward to helping me pick out dresses and some over the top bachelorette party.

  I woke up my cell with trepidation, hoping the text had gone through before reception went out.

  "Generally, the point of eloping is getting away. Unplugging." Of course he was saying this while he was pretending to not look at the screen of his iPad.

  I rolled my eyes. "I just wanted to let Megan know what’s going on."

  His eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

  As hot as the whole ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane’, man-in-charge thing was most of the time, he was starting to grate my nerves. "It'll just take a second." According to the notification on the screen, it was still sending.

  "Put the phone down, Leila."

  "Jacob--"

  "Put. The. Phone. Down."

  Every word was more final and commanding than the last and annoyed sigh or not, I put the phone down and locked my gaze on him. "What is it?"

  "You are aware that telling everyone you know that you're eloping defeats the purpose, correct?"

  "She's not everyone," I said stubbornly. "She's my best friend."

  He studied me for a moment, features tense. "This is important to you. Telling her about our plans?"

  "We'll she's not gonna blab to the paparazzi if that's what your worried about." His stony glare told me he wanted an answer to his actual question. "Yes, it's important to me."

  "Interesting." He stroked his chin, eyes hooded and contemplating. "It's a fair enough request I suppose. And I have half a mind to allow it, despite your attitude."

  My mouth fell open. Well thank you very much, Your Majesty! But I just pursed my lips together, not pushing it. I knew what the spark in his eye meant, what the sweep of his tongue across his lip represented.

  He wanted to dominate me.

  "You'll do as I command you. No questions. Understood?"

  My mouth was suddenly painfully dry, but I managed to swallow and say the words. "Yes
sir."

  He gave me the slightest of grins. "Remove your clothing. All of it."

  My lips trembled as my eyes darted to where the flight attendant sat on the other side of a curtain. She'd already done service, so it was highly unlikely that she'd disturb us, but there was still a remote chance that she could.

  When I looked at Jacob, I realized I'd already made one mistake. Pushing aside the questions and the natural fear of being caught, I unbuckled my seat belt and brought my hands to my shirt. For the flight, I'd worn an oversized denim button down tunic. It seemed like something easy and comfortable, but now with those blue eyes on me...

  I lifted my arms to pull it over my head, but his voice made me freeze.

  "Unbutton it. Slowly."

  It should have been infuriating. It was like he was purposefully pushing the envelope. After all, it wasn't Jacob that would be sitting there buttnaked as the attendant gaped in shock. But I wasn't infuriated. My body hummed deliciously. I could feel the goose flesh race over my skin beneath my clothing. I didn't need to strip off my underwear to know I was already soaking wet, extremely aroused at the very thought of what I knew was inevitable. I was going to strip.

  I started with the top button, barely able to clasp it because my fingers tingled and shook. The first was released and I stole a look at him, seeing his lips part slightly. Those beautiful lips that I couldn't wait to kiss. That I'd get to kiss for the rest of my life. When his eyes narrowed I rushed to the next, then third, before he cleared his throat. I slowed, unhooking the fourth, letting out a shaky breath as I neared the valley of my cleavage and my fingertips stroked the path toward my breasts.

  And I was right there, completely naked, the soft leather chair kissing my skin and Jacob stroking me with his intense blue gaze.

  I gripped the armrest tight, heat dancing in my belly before it ricocheted over me. "Now what?"

  I watched the lust race over his features before he cleared his throat, hiding it away behind cool sophistication. Acting like I wasn't completely in the buff--and he wasn't sporting a raging erection. He was silent, reaching for his glass of scotch and taking a long, deliberate sip. He lowered it down, stoic as ever, but he was gripping the glass like it was a lifeline; the only thing keeping him from losing it and taking me right there.