by Ava Claire
Instead, my mind jerked me backwards. Back to the hospital room.
“I had a thing with a famous person once.”
I’d breezed right past her confession, not realizing the person she was talking about was in the room with us then.
Was in the room with us now.
Jacob.
I didn’t need to hear anymore, but she was on a roll, smiling gleefully as she raised the gun and pointed it squarely at my husband.
“Your husband fucked me in the coat room at The Mischa Project benefit, then tossed me aside like the ticket I gave him that night.” She swept a hand around the room, her eyes gleaming with bonafide craziness. “You’re living my life, Leila.”
Chapter Nine
“Is the gun really necessary?”
I couldn’t help but scowl at Jacob. He should have known better. Apparently, being held at gunpoint was business as usual for The Whitmores.
Darla didn’t bother answering him. She was too busy going through her bottomless bag of treats. In addition to Hope’s gift, it also contained a .45 that she had trained on Jacob’s head, and a roll of duct tape that she forced me to bind him to a chair with.
Any guilt I had about Jacob firing Dimitri went right out the window, but I didn’t blame him for this mess. I blamed myself. I should have known that disaster was lying in wait, biding its time. I f I hadn’t been slacking, there was no way this woman or any other skeletons in either of our collective closets would have stood a chance. This place should have been Fort Knox. No visitors. Ever. We should have just lived within these walls, sending out for food, clothing and necessities. Had them thoroughly screened and vetted before bringing them up the elevator. Cameras should have been stationed in every nook and cranny. That was the only way to ensure our safety. Cut ourselves off from the world completely.
I drew an unsteady breath, reason rearing its ugly head. There was no such thing as safe. And who would have guessed that one of his one night stands from years ago would plot this whole thing out? Stay silent through Rachel, the wedding, all the high profile mentions of our lives, waiting all this time just to re-emerge when we least expected it? Who would’ve thunk that my life would become a literal Lifetime movie?
But there was nothing cheesy nor over the top about this situation. My whole world was right here and if she was willing to go this far, it was no stretch to believe that she’d go all the way. All it took was a bullet to rewrite our story.
Tears clawed their way up my throat and it took everything in me to keep the sob from escaping. Hope was upstairs. Safe for now—but what would happen if Darla decided to empty her gun into Jacob? Into me? Who would protect our baby?
I’ll kill her first.
The homicidal thought came to me without hesitation. She would not touch Hope. We’d get out of this. We had to. And I’d do anything, including listening to the required ‘lunatic soliloquy’.
“Considering you’re still glaring at me like you want to snap my neck like a twig and with those muscles, you very well could...” Darla trailed off, drinking him in like a glass of ice cold lemonade on a warm day. “Yes, the gun is necessary.”
My heart dropkicked my ribcage as the gun went from Jacob’s forehead to mine.
“Don’t you dare point that thing at my wife!” Jacob growled, tugging at his binds.
“Hey!” Darla barked, momentarily switching gears and putting the target back on him. “You don’t make orders here—I do.” She nodded at me. At the duct tape that I was surprised I hadn’t dropped. “Tighter.”
I fumbled with the seam of the tape, my fingers useless because my nerves were more than frayed. They were in bits and pieces.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Jacob murmured, reaching out to me with his voice. “Look at me, Lay.”
I couldn’t. If I looked at him, he’d see that I was struggling to hold it together. And I had to hold it together. For Hope. For him. For all of us.
“We are gonna get through this,” he insisted. “You, me, Hope-”
“What are you two whispering about?” Darla sliced in, clearing her throat pointedly. “Sweet nothings? Here’s one.” She moved closer, nudging me with the barrel of the gun. “Look at me, Lay.” She turned my nickname into something depraved, mocking him.
I didn’t hesitate lifting my eyes to look at her. Pulled on my best poker face as I stared down the barrel of her gun. I relaxed slightly when she pivoted the barrel, until I realized she was back to pointing it at Jacob, and at that distance, she could do fatal damage.
Realizing that she had our full attention, she did one better—she took the butt of the gun and smashed it into Jacob’s temple.
“Stop it!” I begged, hating the tears in my voice. They matched the ones that coursed down my cheeks. “Please don’t hurt him.”
“Why the hell not?” she spat acidly, her eyes brightening with glee at the pain that weaved its way across Jacob’s face. “He hurt me.” She pressed the barrel of the gun into the point of contact of her strike, pouring salt in the wound, but Jacob didn’t give her the satisfaction of crying out.
I decided to get her talking before she tried to shoot him in the thigh or something vicious to break through his stoic mask. I had to make this about her, and not about the gun. “H-how did he hurt you?”
The mania melted into surprise, her crazed blue eyes twitching over to me like she’d forgotten there was someone else in the room besides her and Jacob. “How did he hurt me?” She sighed, her shoulders drooping like I was the kid in the class determined to prove there was such a thing as a dumb question. “I know you got the ring and the baby so you’re not living in the real world with the rest of us, but I’m sure you had to kiss and fuck a whole lot of frogs before you landed Prince Charming.”
“You’re telling me,” I coughed, trying to make her feel like I was on her side. From the arch of her eyebrow, I was doing a bang up job.
I held my breath as she gave me a once over, ignoring Jacob.
Good. It’s just you and me. Just keep your eyes on me.
I exhaled when she went back to the couch, dropping on the cushion with a groan. She gestured at the space beside her with the gun. I got the message and obliged, trying my damnedest to not look at the weapon. To be honest, her piercing eyes were just as dangerous.
I tried to find the nurse who helped us in the emergency room beneath the bitterness before me. There had to be a shadow of the vulnerability she’d shared in the birthing suite. The badass who took the reins and helped deliver my daughter, had to be somewhere, right?
I came up empty.
There was only the feral unpredictability now, like a switch was flipped and this was as good as it was gonna get. This was the real woman. The jilted woman.
Jacob was my first love and when—not if—we made it out of this, he would be my last. That was worth fighting for. Worth dying for. Worth pretending that I cared about where she was coming from.
I’d had my heart broken before. I knew what it felt like to pin my hopes on a guy who had no intention of sticking around. I clung to that, not looking at Jacob, pretending Darla and I were friends about to chat about our asshole exes versus the frightening reality. It was hard to keep up the ruse since she had the gun resting precariously on her lap, finger on the trigger, but luckily for me, I had some experience with crazy women.
She needed to feel listened to.
Understood.
“He doesn’t remember that night,” Darla said accusatorially, casting a scowl in Jacob’s direction before she got comfortable and pivoted back to me. “But I remember it like it was yesterday. I was helping out a friend and covering her shift in the coat room during a benefit dinner. You’ve been to enough of those stuffy events to know that if you’re working at one of them, all of the attendees basically look right through you. Do you know how deflating it is to be invisible? To be treated like you’re less than human? Unworthy of being acknowledged as people forget you before you even get a word out?”
/>
“I do.”
Her jaw dropped a couple of inches. She was blindsided that I’d answered so quickly, and to top it off, I was even convincing. “You do?”
I nodded sadly, folding my hands in my lap and squeezing to keep the rattle from echoing over my body. From taking me down and reducing me to a sobbing mess that would be no good to anyone. “I can’t name a single red carpet event I’ve been to where I wasn’t asked to move out of the way. Even now, as Jacob’s wife, people mistake me for his assistant. Mispronounce my name immediately after I tell it to them, misspell my name beneath the pictures. And then there’s the people who ask the paparazzi who stalk me who I am-”
“Yeah, you don’t get it,” she cut me off with a dismissive scoff. “I’ve seen you on blogs. On E. You have to be living under a rock to not know who you are. You’re every woman’s dream, Mrs. Whitmore.”
I opened my mouth to protest, to tell her that this life was no cakewalk, but Jacob cleared his throat, reminding me that the last thing I needed to do was antagonize someone with a gun. “You’re right. I am lucky.”
“Damn right you are,” Darla glowered, straightening her spine. Raising her chin to look down on me.
A rustling sound came from the baby monitor pausing our exchange. Jacob perked and our eyes met in an instant. If we weren’t being held hostage, we would have smiled and counted the seconds. She would settle. She always did.
I stopped the smile before it gave away the tender moment, staring at the monitor. I was worried Darla would lash out, but she reached her non-weaponized hand towards me.I still pulled away from her, clutching the monitor. She’d have to pry it from my cold, dead fingers.
“Don’t worry, Leila. I’m no monster. I would never hurt Hope.” She retracted her hand, her jaw tightening as her gaze settled on Jacob. “He’s the monster. He disguised himself as a human that night, though. He was the only one who paused long enough to acknowledge my existence. Flirted with me, even.”
I hated the jealousy that flared in my gut. Picturing my husband charming someone else was far from a pleasant activity.
I knew there was life before me. Women before me. Being reminded of that brought out an ugly side of me. And it didn’t help that the past was right in my face, wielding a gun. Threatening our future.
“I knew better, knew his reputation, but when the hottest guy you’ve ever met shows an interest, how do you pass that up?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, shaking her head with disgust. “It was one of the hottest experiences of my life. Damn near spiritual. So much so that I decided to surprise him at work, heading to his office a few days later. I saw him in the lobby and everything was right in the world. Our eyes locked—and he didn’t even recognize me. I was tempted to jog his memory, but if I had and he just stared at me blankly, that would have been worse. It would have just confirmed that it meant nothing.” She let out a bitter chuckle. “I almost took the elevator up to the roof and threw myself off the building.”
I swallowed hard, not finding anything remotely amusing about suicide. I stole a look at Jacob, but his face was as impassive as I’d ever seen it. The mask was in place. It protected him. Protected me. He wouldn’t give her an inch. Wouldn’t go down begging and pleading. It just wasn’t in his nature.
Darla sniffed, stroking the gun with her free hand like it was her confidante. Her closest friend. “I didn’t try to end it that day, don’t worry. I chalked it to me being one of many. And let’s face it, how many women really get to say that they spent a night with Jacob Whitmore? But when I read that the eternal bachelor was settling down, and with you no less...” She gripped the gun. “That was when I decided I had to do something. That I didn’t want to live. That there was...something wrong with me.”
That last bit was absolutely true, but I kept that to myself. I wanted to find some place in my heart that pitied her, that could connect beyond our current predicament, but I was fresh out of fucks to give. And it wasn’t because she’d insulted me, like I was garbage and Jacob made some horrible mistake by marrying me. This was bigger than my ego. I just wanted to keep her talking so I could figure out a way to get the gun away from her.
“Why are you doing this, Darla?”
She rolled her eyes, like a tired mother who was sick of hearing the same old wish list from her spoiled, cranky child. “For someone crafty enough to land Jacob Whitmore, you’re a little slow on the uptake, huh?” She flicked invisible dust from the gun, conceding with a weary sigh. “Fine, I’ll lay it out for you. I know that night meant something. And somewhere, he does too. With time, I know that I could make Jacob see that we’re supposed to be together. Me, Jacob, and Hope.” She raised the gun like all she had to do was pull the trigger and all her dreams would come true. “Once you’re out of the way, I can finally live the life that was stolen from me.”
~
Acting wasn't my forte, but I managed to not lose my shit after this chick literally told me her master plan was to get rid of me and live my life.
I'd heard enough. Enough to know that rationalizing with her was pointless. There would be no reaching beyond her pain and disappointment about what could have been. This was bigger than a broken heart and a one night stand gone horribly wrong.
She came here with one intention and one intention only, and it wasn't money, vengeance, or notoriety.
She came here to take my place.
It didn't matter that she never could. That if I disappeared, there would be a Leila shaped hole that she'd never fill. I could tell her about the day Jacob and I met, in the lobby. I could tell her about the contract. I could share the moment I realized that no contract was needed to bind my body, my heart to Jacob's. That whatever she and Jacob had shared that night meant nothing compared to the days and nights and experiences between us. That whatever fleeting passion they might have found together was a speck in the sea compared to what we had. That he pledged his body, his love, his life to me. That we had Hope, had literally created life together. All of that was irrelevant. All of that would fall on deaf ears. Because she didn't come here to be heard, or to listen.
She came here to kill me.
I closed my eyes, going inside myself for the strength I'd need to take this risk. She was going on about how she'd take care of my baby. Raise her right. All the trips the family would take. She even threw in a bit about how she'd tell Hope about me one day.
Jacob hadn't said a word since Darla dropped the bomb but when he finally spoke, it was clear he picked up on the gravity of our situation.
"If you harm one hair on my wife's head-"
"You're clearly not listening," Darla interrupted him, her voice eerily calm. "I'm your wife."
The chill that rushed over me almost snatched me back to the darkness. I had to think. I could rush her. Try brute strength.
It would be pointless. I couldn’t picture a hypothetical situation where the bullet wouldn’t rip through me. If I rushed her and the gun went off, I'd be doing her work for her.
Talking with a madwoman was just as fruitless. I couldn't talk her out of insanity. She didn't get that I was a living, breathing person. That this was my life and she couldn't just step into it, like she was taking over my shift.
I could feel the time ticking away, Jacob's fury pushing her closer to breaking point. For all I know, she'll kill us both and run off with Hope.
There was only one option left, and it was as crazy as she was.
I opened my eyes, trying to not focus on the gun she was waving around like it wasn't a weapon capable of ending someone’s life. I licked my lips, pushing aside the sting as my tongue made contact with my chapped, broken skin. "You're right."
Neither of them should have heard me since they were busy trying to talk over each other, but the room stopped. It was like someone pressed the pause button. Slowly, two sets of dumbfounded eyes settled on me.
"What did you say?" Darla's words were slow, stretching out for what felt like forever. It gave me a minute to
turn back. To rethink my plan. To think about all the ways it could go wrong.
There was no getting around the fact that someone wasn't walking out of this in one piece. This was a gamble, but I had to believe that I was giving us a fighting chance.
"You're right," I said a second time. It was no easier to swallow than the first, and from the horror that seized Jacob's face, he was not onboard with my plan.
I felt like I would be sick, but I charged forward, putting it all out there before I vomited or sobbed or gave up the one ace I had up my sleeve. "This is your life. I stole it from you—and hat’s not right."
"Leila, what the hell are you-"
"I'm not talking to you," I snarled at him, holding tight to the ruse like my life depended on it, because it actually did. I flicked my eyes dismissively over Jacob, taking a page from his book. Tried to channel how little Darla must have felt, shrank to nothing in that lobby all those years ago. "I know you're the all powerful Jacob Whitmore, but this isn't about you. This is between me and Darla. You've gotta respect that. She's been through enough."
Jacob's mouth hung open for a good five seconds, still trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. When he finally got it, he was savvy enough to keep it close to the vest. He let out a few choice words and snapped his mouth shut. Rolled his eyes at both of us. "Fine."
If she actually knew Jacob, Darla would have known that he rarely conceded, and when he did, he went down swinging. She drank up his white flag like a woman dying of dehydration in the desert, raising her chin victoriously. Like we'd finally put Jacob in his place.
I focused all of my energy, all of my lies on the woman who was damn good at lying herself. "Let me help you. It's the least I can do."
She gave me a quizzical look. "How are you going to help me?"
"Jacob lo-" I stopped, correcting myself before I said the four letter word that she thought belonged to her. "Jacob cares deeply about me. If you hurt me, it would hurt him. It would taint the start of your new life. But if I took myself out of the equation..." Plan or no, I couldn’t finish the statement.
