Boxed Set: The His Submissive Series Complete Collection (Part One-Part Twelve) (19 page)

If he didn’t love me...the thought was too much to bear. I felt like my throat was closing...like the walls were slowly creeping in on me.

I heard him behind me, buttoning up. Still quiet.

I wanted to whirl around and take him by the shoulders, shake him until it was impossible for him to keep up the damning self-restraint and all that would be left was the truth. But what if his silence
was
the truth? What if I’d been projecting this whole time and now those words were out there and he wasn’t going to say it back?

I breathed in and forced a smile that was like a punch to the stomach. “Um...”
Um? Um?!
“About what I just said...it was really dumb.” I let out a laugh that sounded more like a cat choking. “Mostly just word-vomit because our sex was like, amazing. Like, amazing enough for me to say that I love you.” His expression soured. “Not that I’m saying I would say something like that just because the sex was good. Because I’ve had good sex. Lots of good sex.” And now I sounded like a skank.

I tried another laugh, trying to alleviate the weirdness, but I couldn’t stop talking. Trying to explain. Trying to take back my declaration. “So what I said is not a big deal. And you don’t have to say it back or anything.” I swallowed. “I wasn’t expecting you to say it back. At least not with me naked and splayed out on the table with a bacon headdress. Maybe over a glass of wine at some ridiculously romantic restaurant. Or never. Because I just-”

“Leila, just stop.”

So he
could
speak.

I looked at him—golden good skin, dark hair perfectly coifed, abs rippling beneath his t-shirt, jeans fitting him just right. It wasn’t fair that my body instantly responded to his. My heart rate elevated. My skin hummed as I took him in. My lips trembled. It wasn’t fair that even though he’d just ripped my heart from my chest, the rest of me went on without it. I stood there with some half assed smile on my face, waiting for him to twist the knife a little deeper.

“I just told you that you didn’t have to worry about it," I said hoarsely.

"You just told me you loved me, Leila." His face was still pale, but at least he no longer looked like he was staring down the barrel of a .45. "I'd like to talk about that."

Dread shot through me as I glared at him. It wasn't enough to embarrass me, he wanted to talk it out? Psycho analyze why me falling in love with him was the dumbest possible thing I could do?

"I don't think we have anything to talk about.”

He took a step closer and there was no mistaking the look on his face. Pity. "Leila-"

I moved further away, anger gobbling up my embarrassment. "Just forget I said anything." I turned my back, gripping the counter, needing something to ground me.

"I don't want to forget."

I tilted my head to the right. He said...did that mean..."You don't want to forget?"

"No, I don’t,” he replied. He looked me dead on. “I love you too, Leila.”

I must have swayed a bit because he rushed to my side, steadying me. I slumped against him, smiling like a fool.

“Are you okay?” he asked, taking my face between his hands. “Do you need to sit down?”

“No,” I said quickly, putting my hands over his. “You just...” I took a breath to keep from rambling all over again. “It just feels like Christmas hearing you say those words.”

He gave me a playful smirk that made me beam from head to toe. “Well, I didn’t say I was done.” He led me back to the table and waited for me to sit down before he continued. “I loved you long before you crashed into me in the lobby. I love you because I wished for you. Someone strong willed who could tell me when I was being an ass and capture my heart in one fell swoop. I love you because you’re amazing. Because you’re beautiful. I love you because you make every new day better than the last.”

When our lips met, it was like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place. He loved me. Jacob Whitmore lov-

We both turned toward the foyer at the sound of a heavy thud. Jacob gave me one last peck then walked briskly from the room. Still in a daze, I started clearing the table. The sound of the porcelain plates clinging together was a symphony of awesomeness. I suddenly felt the urge to sing and thought better of it since I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.

The floor creaked when Jacob re-entered the room. "Leila."

I whipped around and smiled when I saw Allegra—until I took in the harried look on her face. "What's going on?"

Allegra glanced at Jacob. "I tried calling." She wrung her hands. "And that was after I tried to handle it myself."

"Just tell her," Jacob snapped.

"Tell me what?" I said, my mind running through possible scenarios. "Is it my mom? My dad?"

"No," Allegra said quickly. "It's Rachel." She let out a sigh. "She's locked herself in her hotel room...and she says she'll kill herself unless she talks to you, Leila."

****

J
acob moved so slow he was practically going backwards. "I don't understand why we had to drop everything and rush over here."

I looped my arm in his, trying to get him to move a little faster. "Because suicide is no joking matter."

"There's no way she'd go through with it," he snorted. "Rachel's a textbook narcissist. She'd never voluntarily deprive the world of herself."

I knew he was right and that this was just another attempt by Rachel to sabotage us. A part of me wanted to let Jacob lead me back downstairs and put as many miles between us and this latest Rachel drama. But there was another part of me that blistered and made me drag Jacob back into motion. My conscience just wouldn't let me walk away.

We walked up to the double doors of Rachel's suite. Allegra stood talking to Mrs. Joy, Rachel’s new publicist, who was clutched a cup of coffee like it was her lifeline. When I saw the manic look in Mrs. Joy’s eyes, I had a feeling it wasn't her first.

Once she saw Jacob, she started babbling. "She refuses to open the door. When I attempted to get management to unlock it-"

"She threatened self-harm," Allegra finished. She gave the woman a pat on the shoulder. "Mrs. Joy did the best she could in a bad situation."

Mrs. Joy nodded eagerly. "She's been in the room for over two hours. I exhausted every possible solution before contacting you, Mr. Whitmore."

"Well, there's the problem," Jacob said, glowering at her. "If you would have contacted me first, the situation would have been resolved."

The woman's shade paled, probably envisioning her pink slip. "Y-you would have?"

"Absolutely," Jacob replied coolly. "I would have told you to inform Ms. Laraby that she should get on with it."

Allegra pushed forward, her face crinkled with disappointment. "Jacob, you cannot mean this."

I steered Jacob away, dropping my volume. "I know Rachel's not your favorite person, but you can't expect me to walk away when she could possibly hurt herself." I gripped his hand. "And the man I love wouldn't walk away either."

He gave me a long, pensive look. "Not even if every fiber of him is screaming to let the bitch burn?"

I brought his hand to my lips. "Even then." I cocked my head toward the doors. "Now I'm going to go and talk to her. And then you and I are going out for gelato."

The last bit brought a hint of a smile. He begrudgingly released my hand. "Should I go in? Make sure she's unarmed?"

A shot of fear raced through me. I hadn't even considered the possibility of being in danger. If she was threatening to harm herself, it wasn't a long shot for her to hurt me. “I...um...”

Jacob shook his head, eyes flashing. "There's no way in hell I'm letting you go in there alone."

I was inclined to agree until I saw Mrs. Joy talking in hushed tones on her cell. I circled around Jacob. "What's going on?"

Allegra cast a cautious look at Jacob before answer. "She's talking to Rachel."

Jacob rushed past, Mrs. Joy in his crosshairs, but Allegra stood firmly between them.

"Get out of my way Al," Jacob growled. "I want to talk to her."

"That's a horrible idea," Allegra said. "You could very well make things worse."

"Worse?" Jacob snarled. "It's far too late for that.” He glared at Mrs. Joy. "If you value your job, you will give me that phone."

"Jacob Matthew Whitmore!" Allegra scolded. "Don't you dare threaten this woman for attempting to do the job you hired her for!"

I glanced at the doors and saw that Rachel had opened one a few inches. Our eyes locked and in that moment, I knew she wouldn’t hurt me. I took a few steps toward the room and Allegra's gaze gave me away so I pushed inside and closed the door before Jacob could plow through it.

I stood against it, every blow Jacob laid on the wood echoing through me.

"Leila! You don't have to do this."

I tried to steady my voice. "I'm fine, Jacob. Just give us a few minutes."

He let out a string of expletives, but the pounding stopped.

Rachel let out a grunt and took a long drag from the cigarette dangling between her fingers. "You came."

"Well, it was come or let you do something crazy." As soon as the C word came out, I cringed. Generally, crazy people didn't actually like being called crazy. I tried to look past the scowl on her lips and forced a smile on mine. "I'm here to help, Rachel. Whatever you need."

She gestured at me with her cigarette, sending a shower of ashes raining on the mocha colored carpet. "I spent all night trying to figure out what it was about you." She sniffed. "I really didn't expect you to come." She combed through her hair with her fingers. "If it were reversed, I sure as hell wouldn't come to your rescue."

"Color me unsurprised," I shrugged.

She let out a bitter chuckle. "And that was my answer. You're a better person than me. I'm the villain of this story and you're Mother freaking Theresa." When I didn't respond, she snapped her fingers and waved her arms around. “Did you hear me? I just said that you win.”

I stared at the face that graced hundreds of magazine covers throughout her career, hailing her beauty and grace. A woman that I'd seen in countless movies; rooting for her, wishing I could be her, envisioning how amazing her life must be. And this was her life—nursing a bottle of champagne and wearing the same dress she'd been in the night before. Without all the flashing lights and the glitz and glamour, she was just a woman. And not a great one at that.

So I did something really inappropriate.

I burst into laughter.

Not just a hearty chuckle; I'm talking bent at the waist, hands at my side guffaws.

"I'm sorry," I said, gasping for air. "It's just...I win? Are you for real?" I swiped at the tears pouring down my cheeks. "You do realize that you were playing with people's lives right? When you tried to put my ass all over the blogosphere? When you threatened to go public with the contracts? And then with this whole suicide thing?"

The look she gave me was the equivalent of a shrug. I should have tackled her, but I just laughed even harder.

"I don't understand what's so hilarious." She snubbed out her cigarette and rose to her feet. "I'm being serious. I'm conceding. You can go live happily ever after."

I took a couple of breaths as the laughter tapered off. The silence was sobering. I wanted to think it was the alcohol that kept her from grasping the gravity of the situation, but that would make me as crazy as she clearly was. The unfortunate truth was that I was locked in a bedroom with a child.

"Thank you for yet another chapter in the dramatic book of your life, Rachel." I turned to go. “Next time you get the urge to off yourself, call 911 instead of your publicist.”

She practically lunged forward, blocking me from leaving. “Where are you going?”

“Away,” I said. “Now move.”

“Not until you say thank you,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Thank you?” I repeated incredulously.

“That’s right,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “Jacob Whitmore is one helluva catch, even with that silly dominant stuff. I’m doing you a favor by letting you have him.”

I stood there, truly dumbfounded. Where the hell did she get off? “You think that can
let
me have Jacob? What are we, in elementary school?” She opened her mouth, but I wasn’t done. “He’s not Lisa Frank pencils or a Trapper Keeper. He’s a person, not an object, Rachel. And before you stand in front of my exit for one more second, you should know I've spent every moment we’ve been within five feet of each other imagining what it would be like to punch you in the face."

Her eyes widened, but she remained planted in place. "Before you assault me, maybe I can give you the truth. Why I really asked you here."

I got ready to physically remove her. "Truth and you just don't mix."

"I'm Rachel Laraby!" she cried out.

I felt like she meant it to be some great declaration, but it came out false, even with the queenly glint in her eye.

"I'm the object of fantasy,” she continued with a haughtiness that almost made me gag. “People envy me.” The nerve beneath her smudged eyeliner ticked, showing a crack in her perfect facade. “And I can't make the one man that matters love me."

I should have just shoved her out of the way. Seen her confession as part of some greater scheme to further sabotage Jacob and me. But there was my damned conscience again. The same thing that had me locked in a suite with a crazy celebrity instead of eating gelato with Jacob.

I let out a sigh and took a step backward. I scanned her face, trying to find some sign that she was playing me again. I only saw a woman wearing the same despondent look I'd worn when I realized Jacob might not love me.

Rachel went back to her bed and retrieved a crumpled pack of cigarettes. She offered me one and when I declined, she lit one for herself.

"Did he tell you why?” she asked quietly. “Why he ended things with me?"

I nibbled my lip, remembering when he finally opened up about their short lived courtship. "I'm not sure it's my place..."

"Just tell me," she snapped. When she spied the cool look on my face, she softened. "Please."

I knew my admission could quite possibly make things worse. She gazed at me hopefully, like she was expecting it to be her propensity for drama both on and off screen.