by Ava Claire
The Billionaire’s Promise (His Submissive, Part Eight)
Ava Claire
Copyright 2013 Ava Claire
The His Submissive Series
The Billionaire’s Contract (Part One)
The Billionaire’s Touch (Part Two)
The Billionaire’s Passion (Part Three)
The Billionaire’s Heart (Part Four)
The Billionaire’s Girlfriend (Part Five)
The Billionaire’s Secret (Part Six)
The Billionaire’s Lust (Part Seven)
Part Nine-Part Twelve (Coming Soon!)
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****
The room was dead silent, the uncomfortable quiet after a gasp reverberated around every square inch of the penthouse before settling back on me.
My lips were frozen in an O of shock and horror. My fingers gripped the edge of the table, glued to it like it was the only thing that was keeping me from falling right to the floor. I could only imagine the expression on Jacob's face. He'd been combative since his mother surprised us, stepping off her gilded throne to dash what would have been a great morning.
Alicia Whitmore eyed me patiently, like she'd just asked me for the weather and not the number that would make me walk away from her son.
"How much do you need to start your own business and forget this whole marriage thing, Leila?"
I closed my mouth and swallowed, feeling nauseous. Her proposition was just as vile the second time around.
I tried to steady my voice and managed to say something besides WTF. "Mrs. Whitmore--"
"Alicia," she interjected coolly, showing a crack in her glass facade. "I'm about to write you a check for more money than the average person will see in several lifetimes--I think we should be on a first name basis."
"You can't possibly think..." I covered my mouth, trying to stifle the cry that rose in my throat. It's pretty obvious what she thinks of you, Lay.
"I think you're a smart girl.” She ran a quick hand through her short hair, black and gray layers fluttering back in place. “Industrious. Why else would you sign a sexual contract with a man you hardly knew?"
I could only blink, wide eyed and stunned. Her words were a slap across the face, the blow red and stinging. The last thing I wanted was to show her that her attempt at hurting me worked, but I couldn't stop the tears from flooding my eyes.
In a perfect world, I would have said that what Jacob and I had was more than words on a page. I would have told her that this was our home and she didn't have to like me, but she would respect me. And when she inevitably refused, I would have calmly stood up and ordered her to get out.
My head spun with all the things I had every right to say. My defense was on the tip of my tongue, ready to put her in her place. But I didn’t utter a single word.
I scrubbed my hands over my face, wishing this was all a dream. A nightmare. I knew meeting his mother wouldn't necessarily be pleasant. Jacob told me about her preference for the company of those worth more than God and in Alicia Whitmore’s book, everyone else was just there to wait on her hand and foot. I'd been prepared for snobbery. An air of condescension. But not this.
"Mrs. Whitmore,” I croaked, trying to find some way to tell her that I would never take her money and leave Jacob—without breaking down. “I don't...I couldn't…"
"I'm aware that this is probably a lot to digest, but I'm about to change your life, dear. Even the craziest number can be made a reality." Her eyes slanted to her son. "If Jacob is making you nervous, I could just leave it blank."
She said it so flippantly, like she was used to her pen making her problems go away. How many people found their name on that 'pay to the order of’ line? What astronomical number did they sell their soul for?
"Have you lost your goddamn MIND?!" Jacob roared, putting words to the hurt that rendered me speechless. Anger tightened his handsome features. His aqua eyes were scorching flames. His nostrils flared like he had red in his sights. His jaw was a razor’s edge, sharp and unyielding. He was in a t-shirt and lounge pants but he may as well have been decked out like a gladiator, blazing into the coliseum to defend my honor.
Alicia pursed her lips into a crimson line and turned her attention to him. "I've abided the reception I received since I stepped through the door Jacob, but I will not tolerate your attitude for one more second."
Jacob jerked up from the table. "My attitude? After you’ve come here and spoke of things someone like you could NEVER understand--"
I snapped out of my daze, jumping up and moving to him. Things had already been said that couldn’t be taken back and I didn’t want him to say or do something he’d regret. "Jacob, it's alright--"
"It couldn't be further from alright, Leila!" he snapped. "My mother has insulted us both." The rage in his voice changed, cutting deeper, hurt ebbing and weaving in his tone. "I'm used to being hurt by her, coming second to a man who couldn't stand the sight of her and believing that she regretted my very existence because the little time my father could spare had to be shared with me." He shook off my hand and took a step toward her. "I can take your bullshit. Years of dealing with it ensured my immunity to your poison. But I will not allow you to hurt Leila."
"Hurt her?" Alicia snorted. "I'm about to change her life!"
I whipped to face her. "No--Jacob changed my life. And not because he gave me a job, but because he gave me his love. I don’t want your money. I want your son." I crossed my arms, finally finding my voice. "I think you should leave."
She stood her ground. "I don't believe your name is on the deed--"
"But my name is," Jacob growled behind me. "You can go back the way you came or you can be dragged out of here kicking and screaming. I'd hate for security to dirty up your suit."
"You wouldn't do that,” she scoffed, flinging her bejeweled hand like his threat was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “Not to your mother. I’m your family."
His voice was cold as the grave. “What do you know about family? The nanny’s you hired so you didn’t have to put up with me were more family to me than you ever were. And Leila? Leila is all the family I need.”
I was speechless, my heart swelling in my chest. Hearing him say that...But the smile on my lips flatlined when I saw the horror rounding Alicia’s mouth.
“You wouldn’t throw me out,” she said, repeating her sentiment from moments before. But her voice was different now. Unsure.
"I wouldn't bet on my mercy," he said icily. "Not when you've come to our home and had the nerve to ask the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with to stab me in the back for a blank check. Leave." His voice darkened. "Now."
Alicia rolled back her shoulders and held her head high as she slid her checkbook back in her clutch. Without another word to either of us, she turned on her heels and strutted toward the elevator. I held my breath until I heard the doors shut and it signaled it was going to the ground floor. When I exhaled, I was surprised I didn't crumble.
"Jacob..."
He spun me around to face him, holding me so tight that there was nothing but his arms, the warm musk of him, and the steady rise and fall of h
is chest. A part of me just wanted to stay that way, wrapped up in him with the rest of the world a faint hum in the background, but Alicia's voice crawled back in.
Why else would you sign a sexual contract with a man you hardly knew?
It was only one sentence but in those words were daggers that opened up old wounds, reminding me of the shame I used to feel over the way Jacob and I began and the reason behind my promotion. I’d already endured so many sleepless nights, terrified that all I’d ever be was a submissive. And even though I’d earned my keep at Whitmore and Creighton, the whispers and silence when I walked into rooms still got to me.
I could care less what Rachel thought of me, but Jacob's mother? Her animosity was devastating. Did she really think I was going to take her blank check, blow Jacob one last kiss and breeze out the door?
"She hates me," I said hoarsely, realizing how important her acceptance of me really was.
"I'm so sorry, baby. I knew she no longer supported us, but I never thought..." His grip tightened and I knew that he was hurting and he too was trying to escape in this embrace.
So I held on. I tried to relax. She was gone. He'd made it crystal clear that he loved me. It was all I ever wanted. All I ever needed. But this dread, this overwhelming sickness was still wrapped around my heart. This was more than just his mother. This was old shit. Mountains of drama that I thought was in our rearview mirror.
Rachel Laraby.
I pulled away, tilting my eyes up to meet his warily. "She's back, isn't she?"
His brows dipped into a frown. "Rachel--you think she's behind this?"
"Who else would send her a public service announcement, warning her that you were about to marry a gold digging skank?" I scowled. "That's classic Rachel."
He sliced the air with his arm, like he was banishing her from the room. "I don't want to talk about her. If she was trying to sabotage us again, her efforts were futile." He pushed brown corkscrews behind my ear, his hands framing my face. "It's me and you, Leila. Always."
I nuzzled his hand, closing my eyes tight. Praying for this feeling to go away. To let go of things I had no control over. I couldn’t make his mother like me. I couldn’t make Rachel disappear. But I had Jacob.
He was enough—he’d always been enough. But I couldn’t dull the anger flushing through my veins even though it was so clear that she wanted to get under my skin and make me doubt. Every second I spent thinking about her was a point in her favor--and right now, Rachel was winning.
They say laughter is the best medicine...I was betting on something else entirely.
I covered his hands with my own, silencing my worries. I focused on the man standing in front of me. "Kiss me."
He leaned down, brushing his lips over mine. "With pleasure."
When our lips collided, I breathed in his taste, warm with hints of citrus and mint. I gave into the flashes of desire uncoiling in my belly, clutching how right it felt to surrender to his mouth. I let his tongue roam and tease, melting into him as he caressed my lips with his own, clasping me to him like he needed this. Needed to forget the last fifteen minutes; to forget that she was back.
My eyes popped open and I pulled away. I wanted him, but I couldn't get images of Rachel's smirk out of my head.
The only way I'd get any peace would be if I talked to her. Not like before when I was worried about her mental health, trying to ease her into the fact that she'd never have Jacob again. I could care less if she couldn’t handle the truth--I was going to throw her face first into the fact that I was not going to let her ruin us.
His eyes skimmed my face, souring when he figured out why I'd pulled on the stony faced look of someone going to war. "Confronting Rachel is a bad idea, Leila. You know this is exactly what she wants, right? To get our attention? To get in our head?"
I moved past him, forgetting about breakfast and marching upstairs to put on some armor of my own. "Mission accomplished."
****
I stood beside Jacob, squeezing his hand tight as the elevator dinged, the arrow illuminating and alerting us that Satan was in the building.
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 looking 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 business, 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, even 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 wan
ting 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 because 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 absolutely 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.”
