Boxed Set: The His Submissive Series Complete Collection (Part One-Part Twelve) (20 page)

"He just..." I glanced back at the door. I could still make a run for it.

She inched to the edge of the bed, eyes narrowed. Like she was ready to pounce. "He just what?"

“He just doesn’t like you,” I blurted.

I stopped, surprised that it was so easy to say out loud after all. Even cathartic. “He said there was no chemistry. No spark.”

She took me in for a long moment, like she was waiting to see if I was being serious. She scoffed  and slid off the bed, flinging a hand at the door. “You can go.”

That was it? She’d acted like they were Romeo and Juliet this whole time and she wasn’t throwing a diva tantrum? Something was up. I glanced around for something, anything I could use as a weapon if she snapped and rushed at me.

But she wasn’t giving me crazy eyes. She stood at the mirror, using a napkin to wipe off her old makeup. She paused mid swipe to glare. Like it was
me
who was acting bizarre.

“Sweetie,” she said with a chuckle. “Unless you’re going to help me get beautiful for those paparazzi camped out downstairs, you’re free to go.”

I slowly rose to my feet, still watching her for any sign that she would erupt. “I know I should just be grateful that I can finally get the hell out of here, but I don’t get it.”

She gathered her dark hair at the nape of her neck. “Don’t get what?”

“That you were ready to destroy me, to destroy Jacob, just twenty four hours ago and now you’re over it.”

She pointed at her back zipper. “Can you grab that?”

I frowned. “I’d rather not.”

She turned back to me, her face completely scrubbed of makeup. She looked a lot more girl next door instead of Glamazon. It brought me a small measure of happiness. “It’s really not rocket science. Sometimes people just don’t mesh. And Jacob Whitmore is far from the only fish in the sea, if you know what I mean.” She licked her lips. “I guess I just needed closure.” She turned back to the mirror. “Could you send Mrs. Joy back in?”

Stunned, I slowly exited the room.

As soon as I took a step into the hall Jacob rushed toward me, the concern lining his features bringing a smile to my face.

Allegra was hot on his heels. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“She’s fine,” I said with a disgusted sigh. “Absolutely fine.”

“I see.” Jacob said darkly.

He brought his lips to my temple and moved toward Rachel’s room, clearly intending to do something he would regret.

I grabbed his arm and brought him back to me. “I just want to get out of here. I think someone owes me gelato.”

“If you think I’m going to let her get away with this-”

“She said she’s done,” I cut in wearily. “So it’s done.” He still shot daggers at her open door, so I perked on my toes and kissed his cheek. “I don’t want to waste one more second on Rachel Laraby, Jacob.”

He looked at me, then back at the room, then back again. I could see the conflict in him and I fell a little harder. Jacob Whitmore, the formidable businessman, was geared and ready to knock a starlet down a peg or two. For
me
.

“If you’re sure...” he said hesitantly.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything.” I smiled at Allegra giving me thumbs up and steered Jacob toward the elevators.

Once the doors slid closed, Jacob brought me in close. “You know this conversation is nowhere near finished, right?”

I let out a sigh of content as we landed on the first floor and stepped out of the elevator, hand in hand. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” I froze, remembering what Rachel said about the paparazzi on the first floor. “Maybe we should get the car to meet us around back?”

Jacob’s brow knitted in confusion. “Around back?”

I nodded. “The photographers...or maybe you can go first then I’ll wait five minutes and join you?”

I released his hand, but he didn’t let mine go. “What better way to take my hat out of the ring for the world’s sexiest bachelor than a picture or two with my beautiful personal assistant?”

I lit up at his reply. “Are you sure?”

His lips spread into a smile. “I love you, Miss Montgomery.” He nodded in the direction of the revolving doors. “Are
you
sure? Because if you think your world was crazy as my assistant, just wait until you become the woman that stole Jacob Whitmore’s heart.”

The reporters snapped to attention as soon as Jacob and I breezed through the lobby. Flashes erupted as Jacob cycled through the revolving doors. He waited for me to join him, his hand stretched toward mine.

The reporters buzzed excitedly and one question rose above the others.

“Mr. Whitmore? Who’s with you?”

Jacob looked him dead on. “Leila Montgomery. My girlfriend.”

Part Five

D
ouglas Heights was an unassuming subdivision, lined with modest homes and tailored yards. Since most of the residents were retirees or single families, the most excitement one would find was a cookout or two, a kid’s birthday party or a nail biting game of bridge. As soon as Jacob’s jet landed and I went from the back of a chauffeured car to the worn driver’s seat of my rusty Volvo, normal had never been so appealing.

After the whirlwind month I had, normal was just what the doctor ordered.

If you would have told me four weeks ago I'd land a job at Whitmore and Creighton
and
end up falling in love with the billionaire CEO Jacob Whitmore, I probably would have laughed right in your face. Well, maybe part two would have been believable. With his broad shoulders, bronzed skin, piercing blue eyes and a body that made the rounds in every red-blooded woman’s fantasy, falling for Jacob was a mathematical certainty. But getting to know the man behind the handsome and controlled facade and him falling for
me
? Impossible.

But Jacob had spent the past month showing me that anything could happen and my wildest dreams could come true. From museums that took my breath away and foods that brought my palette to life to the lush Italian countryside and sultry Venice nights, I didn't want for anything. And in the bedroom, submission had transformed from a foreign thing I'd only read about into something I was born to do and be.

But being Jacob Whitmore's girlfriend wasn't all midnight strolls, private jets, and kinky activities behind closed doors. Because of his high profile business, publicity and public relations for celebrities, he'd become a celebrity in his own right—which meant his personal life wasn't quite so personal. And since I was the mysterious new squeeze, neither was mine. I needed Douglas Heights. I needed the ease and comfort of it; a predictable reality without cameras shoved in my face.

I frowned as I spotted cars peppering the road leading up to the subdivision. They were parked every which way, obviously not caring who they were inconveniencing. I slowly tugged my old sedan between two non-descript cars, cursing under my breath.

What the hell was going on at 11 a.m. on a Thursday morning? And why did none of them know the basics of parking a vehicle?

And then I saw them.

Men in button down shirts, skittering across the pavement in tennis shoes. Tennis shoes were a must. How else would they dart around to get that perfect, embarrassing shot?

My heart shot to my throat as I slammed my car into park. I followed the breadcrumbs to a familiar white and green shuttered house. A house where the yard was always kept trimmed and leaves never stood a chance. A house where an ancient F 150 was parked dutifully at the curb and an Accord sat in the driveway. A house where the paparazzi were huddled like flies on shit.

My parent's house.

I hopped out, following a few stragglers to the crowd gathered near the mailbox. Questions and fragments of conversation swirled around me and the beating thing in my throat sunk past the heart shaped hole in my chest and splattered on the cement.

"The kid’s mother said she was coming home today."

"Did you hear her talking about Jacob popping the question?"

I was suddenly grateful I took a page from America's sweetheart and my personal nightmare, Rachel Laraby, and opted for a beanie that mostly contained my wild corkscrews and an oversized gray T shirt and jeggings. It was undeniable that the  photographers were clearly camped out for me, but because I refused to believe my mom had sold me out.

The only way to find out the truth was to fade into the crowd.

I froze in the shuffle when I saw my mother’s familiar brown eyes, made up to high heaven. There was so much foundation and blush caking her features that I wanted to scrub my own face just looking at her. I glanced past her, spying my dad who eyeballed all of them, making sure no one stepped onto his property.

A heavy set man with a thick accent shoved forward, his face tight with impatience. “Where’s the kid? You said she’d be here an hour ago!”

My mouth fell open as shock and hurt swallowed me whole.

It was true. She tipped them off.

“Leila text me a little bit ago and said she’d be here any minute.” Mom’s toothy grin spread a few inches wider. “But if you have any more questions about her and Jacob-”

“How long did your daughter work for Jacob before they became an item?” Someone blurted out, not wasting any time.

“Oh, not long at all,” Mom replied with a chuckle. “He was just so taken with my Leila he just couldn’t help himself.”

My eyes nearly bulged from my head as a few of them laughed at the admission and Mom coaxed them on with a wink. “Y’all know what I’m talking about.”

“Did Leila give you the scoop on Jacob in bed?”

“Absolutely not!” I hollered, completely forgetting that I was trying to lay low. I didn’t even notice when all eyes turned to me and the bulbs started flashing. It was total tunnel vision, everything else fading to nothing. It was just me locked on my mother’s reddening face. It was one of the few things she and I had in common. There was no hiding our embarrassment.

“L-Leila!” she yelled over the clamor. “I’m so glad you’re home!”

“I bet,” I seethed, biting back what I really wanted to say. They’d eat up our family drama and it would be plastered all over the rags before I could blink.

She quickly pulled my father up beside her, gripping him tight. “All these lovely photographers just wanted to-”

“I’m going in the house.” I marched right past her, lights pulsing all around me.

Had she forgotten that I studied public relations and publicity? I knew exactly why the photographers were there. It was no secret that the most unscrupulous in my field tipped off paps about their client’s location for publicity. Well, the only publicity or pictures they were getting was a shot of my backside, walking away.

I clenched and unclenched my fists as I stepped inside the house. The warmth of my mother’s favorite Airwick fragrance, apple cinnamon, flooded my nostrils. It should have relaxed me, like it did every time I came home. When I sunk into the familiar grooves of the couch, all of my worries should have been soothed away. But I got no relief, no relaxation at all. Every nerve ending in me was on edge.

The screen door creaked open and I knew it was my dad, his woodsy cologne and the scuff of his boots giving him away. I peered up at him, tears of frustration blurring my view, ruining what was supposed to be a happy reunion.

“How long has she had them on speed dial?”

He ran his hand over his thinning brown hair, his bright green eyes weary. “One of ‘em called about two weeks ago and the phone hasn’t stopped ringing since.”

I shut my eyes with a groan. Right around the time Jacob announced to the world that we were dating.

Dad trudged to his armchair and let out a groan of his own as he sat down. “If I would have known she was going to have them waiting for you...”

I flashed a weak smile. There was no need for him to explain. We both knew that when Mom put her mind to something, even he couldn’t slow her down.

The door swung open a second time and I didn’t even bother waiting for an apology from the real culprit.

“Are you insane, Mom? You had no right calling them here!”

She brought a hand to her chest, feigning shock. “Leila, I had no idea-”

“Oh God,” I said disgustedly. “Please don’t insult my intelligence on top of everything else.”

She slowly lowered her hand, eyeballing my dad. “What did you say, Earl?”

“Dad didn’t say anything,” I fumed. “It doesn’t take world-class espionage to figure it out—especially when your new BFFs aren’t known for their discretion.”

Her shoulders slumped a little, her face falling when she realized she was caught. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s just been like a real life movie over the past few weeks!” She let out a rueful sigh, like she was recounting something majestic but from the look on Dad’s face, I had a feeling it was closer to a nightmare.

She stepped around me, eyes on the old coffee table. Pictures were scattered all over the glass top, creating a virtual timeline of my life. It started with wide eyed baby photos, traveling through the awkward adolescent years, and leading up to snapshots from my college graduation.

Mom swiped a couple, holding them up like they were a prize. “Some were offering money for copies. They said they’d be worth a pretty penny once you become Mrs. Whitmore!”

I looked at her like she’d just grown an extra limb before my very eyes. “Mrs. Whitmore? We’ve barely been a couple for a month and you’re already planning our wedding?”

She let out a dismissive chortle. “People have gotten married with a lot less time under their belt than that.” She kicked off her heels and fell back into the love seat. “Don’t try to play coy with me Leila Rae. I’ve seen the pictures of you and that boy gallivanting all over the world, looking positively
cozy
.”

The emphasis she put on ‘cozy’ darkened my cheeks, but I reined the embarrassment back in. I wasn’t a child anymore. Her meddling had real consequences now. I wouldn’t let her desire to create a gossip sensation dictate my love life.

“I thought I made myself crystal clear on the phone,” I began, “But just in case, I’ll say it again. I don’t want you talking about me or Jacob to the press, paparazzi, your book club, the bingo girls, anyone.”