Boxed Set: The His Submissive Series Complete Collection (Part One-Part Twelve) (35 page)

She relaxed immediately, sighing with relief as she raked a hand through her red locks. “Oh thank God.”

“Oh thank God?” I repeated. “I’m glad one of us is so relieved about it.”

She propped her chin on her palm, giving me a single glare that was full of no-nonsense. It was a look I was sure her students were familiar with.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with relief, Leila. This has to do with the fact that two weeks ago you were lying and kissing another guy.”

My eyes darkened. “I did
not
kiss Cade. He kissed
me
!”

“And I’m sure he put a gun to your head.” She dropped her timbre, whipping out her best Arnold Schwarzenegger. “And said, ‘Come with me and fulfill your barely masked attraction’.”

I pressed my lips into a line, biting my tongue. Clearly she was drunk and that’s why she thought this was one big joke.

The waiter brought the pitcher over and I was surprised Meg didn’t leap from the table and kiss him. She refilled her glass, then filled mine to the brim. I brought the straw to my mouth and sipped, hoping the chill of it would cool my anger.

Nope. Still pissed.

“You can give me silent treatment all you want,” she sighed, “But I know the truth.”

I dredged my eyes to hers. “Is that right?”

“Yup,” she answered, not mincing the words she didn’t slur. “I get that you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you have no feelings for Captain America, but you’re lying to yourself.”

“I see. I guess Dr. Scott is in? Here to help me address my deepest, darkest desires?”

“They really aren’t that deep.” she shrugged. “You snuck off to have coffee with him, then you two kissed. I’d say that’s pretty out in the open, surface stuff. And before you go into who kissed who,” she added when I opened my mouth, “What does it matter? You can’t marry someone when you’re running from yourself. How can you make a commitment to Jacob or expect him to make a commitment to you when there are all these unanswered questions?”

“I
have
answers,” I spat. “Ask me if I have feelings for Cade. Ask me who I want a future with.”

“Can you be around Cade and not think about the kiss?”

Her question stunned me because it was the same one I’d been asking myself when he came to my office. There was a reason I couldn’t look at him. That I didn’t want him near. That I didn’t want him to touch me.

But I wouldn’t admit that. Not to my BFF who was trying to play amateur psychiatrist. Not to myself.

“Yes I can,” I said, unblinking. “I can be around him and not think about that
stolen
kiss.”

She dunked her chip in salsa, stirring it around slowly. “You answered my question when you didn’t reply as soon as I asked. If you have to think about it, then you’ve got some stuff to figure out.”

“I’ve already figured everything out,” I said tersely. “I choose Jacob. End of story.”

“I hear you-”

“No, I don’t think you do,” I shoved in. “I’m not sure if it’s because your comprehension is mush from your current vacay in Margaritaville or because you don’t want me to be happy, but I’m not gonna sit here and explain myself to someone who can’t even hold onto a single guy.” I covered my mouth, hoping, praying that she was too busy crunching on chips or the music snuffed out what I’d said.

But the red in her face, the hurt set of her lips and the tears gathering in her eyes proved I’d hit my mark.

“Oh god Megan, I didn’t mean-”

“Please,” she scoffed, ice around every syllable. “You’ve already insulted me once. Don’t sit here and lie to my face.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“You meant exactly what you said.” She brought her purse to the table, ruffling through the contents. Probably searching for something to bludgeon me with. I couldn’t believe I went there. What the hell was wrong with me?

“You’ve been holding onto that little morsel, haven’t you?” She snatched her wallet from her purse. “Ever since Brad.”

Brad Haniford was a bouncer at a bar we used to frequent near campus. It had been lust at first sight that became something more—but not enough to curb Brad’s one nightstands.

They argued, they hated each other; they made up, they loved each other. He swore he’d never do it again...until he did. Over and over.

I knew she still loved him, even though he was toxic; even though any sort of relationship would do more harm than good.

And I’d just thrown that fact in her face.

“I’m so sorry Megan.” I’d been saying those words so much lately that they’d tattooed themselves on my tongue. When she didn’t stop or acknowledge my apology, I didn’t blame her. I had to stop hurting the people I loved—or I’d lose them all.

“You know, I want to believe you.” she said finally. “I need to because otherwise you’re a stranger to me. The Leila I know would never,
ever
go there. Even in anger.” A tear spilled down her cheek and she swept it away, leafing through her wallet. “We don’t lie to each other. We might lie to our guys, to ourselves, but we’re best friends. And I wouldn’t be a friend if I sat here and pretended like you’re ready to ride off into the sunset with Jacob. I know you love him, Leila. And maybe you don’t have feelings for Cade. But Jacob doesn't trust you. And he shouldn’t.”

I felt the tears rise in my throat. “That’s not fair.”

“Maybe. But it’s the truth. You’re the one that’s keeping secrets and reading letters that don’t have your name on them. He would be insane not to have questions.” She dropped her money on the table. “And I was insane to think that maybe you’d be a friend to
me
tonight.”

She slid out of the booth and I started babbling, not wanting to lose her. To prove that somewhere along the way, I hadn’t gotten lost in all of this. “Is it Brad because if it is-”

“Jesus frickin Christ, Leila!” She laughed, but there was no joy in any of it. She was disgusted. “It had nothing to do with him. If you weren’t so busy investigating a man that has proved his love, you would have known that I’m seeing someone. That I’ve been seeing him for a month, but I’m pretty sure it’s over now. Just once, just for tonight, I needed my best friend.” She stood up, her pain streaming down her face. “Thanks for a great evening.”

****

“M
y mother is
where
?”

I could tell the involuntary, Jacob ordered truce Natasha had agreed to was shaky from the way she cleared her throat. Like she was struggling against the desire to hang up the phone or tell me that she wasn’t my secretary.

“The front desk just called up here and there’s a woman downstairs who claims she’s your mother.” Before I could react or say the words myself, she threw a clipped ‘You’re welcome’ my way and hung up the phone.

I clutched the receiver, not believing my ears, even though I knew if Natasha was joking it would go something like:

Knock knock/Who’s there?/You’re fired...finally.

That meant my mother had taken the train into the city and was down in the lobby, probably talking the security guard’s ear off...or anyone that slowed long enough to fall in her trap.

And then I remembered.

The production team for
PR
was filming today.

I never moved so fast in my life. If I trusted my legs to get me down the flights of stairs without breaking my neck, I would have said screw the elevator altogether. Luckily, it zipped to the lobby in record time and I was off, plowing forward like I was on a track in tennis shoes instead of skating across the marble floor in heels.

Fred Lyons, one of the security guards, eyed my mother warily but she didn’t even notice because she was engrossed in conversation with one of the producers of the reality TV show.

“Mom!” I tried for cheerfulness, but my voice cracked on the last bit.

‘Ma’ was close enough and she spun to face me. She was decked out in a slick navy sheath dress, her salt and pepper hair pulled into a bun. She’d even gone light on the makeup.

“Leila!” She leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek, but my eyes didn’t leave the show’s lead producer, Marla Waylon.

The woman had a shit-eating grin plastered on her face, clearly moments from promising my mother on-camera time if she convinced me to reconsider doing a segment for
PR
.

“I was just saying hello to your lovely mother,” Marla said innocently.

I bet
, I thought with an eye roll. “Well, I know your team is busy filming today, so we’ll get out of your way.”

I tried to steer my mother toward the elevators, but she didn’t budge. “Ms. Waylon was saying that she’d love five minutes of our time.”

“That’s nice,” I said, wanting to give Marla a piece of my mind, but not wanting to start a scene or be disrespectful around my mother. “I have a busy schedule-” Anticipating Marla’s next play, I finished, “-and I want to give my mom the VIP tour.” I knew the words ‘VIP’ would at least give me time to get Mom in the elevator. I took the visitor badge from Fred, mouthing ‘thank you’ as I shepherded her away from the cameras.

“That Waylon woman was a real sweetheart,” Mom piped.

I covered my snort with a cough. ‘Snake’ was a better noun. With midnight hair and near black eyes, she was a force to be reckoned with. Marla would sell her first born for a ratings spike. If you were a nobody you didn’t exist in her universe but if she thought you’d make good TV, get on board or get run over. I’d put her off as long as possible, but I knew eventually I’d have to tell her no and face her wrath or just bite the bullet and agree to be on camera.

“I want to see the floor they film
PR
on,” Mom chirped excitedly. “There’s that girl with the thick accent and the attitude-”

“Missy Diaz?” I said, not wanting to hit the fifth floor button. Not wanting to introduce my mother to the woman who made my work life miserable.

“That sounds right,” she said, all smiles. “And the older women, Claudia Joy?”

I relented and punched the button for Mrs. Joy alone. After all of her help with the photo situation, I owed her another thank you.

And she was pretty much my only friend in the entire high rise building.

The doors retracted when we stopped at the fifth floor and Mom hesitated like she’d snuck past security into some red zone and at any moment people with guns would rush in and carry her away.

It was adorable.

I stepped out of the elevator, putting my arm out to keep it from shuttling her to another floor. “It’s okay, Mom.”

Her mouth spread into a smile of awe as she moved out beside me, scanning the place she’d only seen on television. People bustled past, not doing anything remotely glamorous, but in my mother’s eyes, she was on the red carpet.

She gripped my arm as Missy came out of one of the private offices on the wall. Her gaze narrowed over the bullpen, clearly looking for someone that wasn’t working at a fevered pace. When her dark stare made its way to where I stood, she scowled—until she cut to Mom. Her eyes went back and forth between the two of us, weighing our similarities and when she figured it out, she grinned like she’d just won the lottery.

Great. She was coming over.

“Leila!” Missy gushed, flipping her mahogany hair over her shoulder. “To what do we owe this honor?” She didn’t even wait for me to respond. “It’s so great to see you!”

Great to see me?
I thought, eyebrows perking as I introduced them.
Why is she so happy to see me?

It took less than a second for me to answer the question. Mom shook her hand like she was meeting a celebrity and Missy ate it up.

I wanted to tell her that Missy wasn’t what she seemed, but I knew that would just make things worse for me.

“Mrs. Montgomery, Leila is such a great addition to our team,” Missy said effusively. “She has such poise, grace and tenacity.”

“That’s my Leila,” Mom beamed. She took a step back, peering at Missy with her head tilted to the side. “You and Leila are close then?”

Missy lied as easily as breathing. “Of course.”

“Hmm.” Mom stroked her chin. “I thought it was just TV, but you’re a horrible liar in person too.”

Just when you think you know what to expect, people surprise you.

I pressed my fingertips against my lips, stifling the laugh that I knew was coming. Missy was genuinely flabbergasted.

Mom looked past Missy, craning her neck like she was looking for someone important. “Could you take me to Mrs. Joy’s office, Leila? I’m dying to meet her.”

I could barely keep the smile off my face as we sidestepped a stewing Missy. “Right this way.” Once we were out of hearing range I whispered, “I thought you were a fan of hers?”

“Please,” Mom scoffed. “She’s such a witch to her poor staffers. I was going to be cordial though—until I saw the way she looked at you.”

I felt tears of pride sting my eyes. I thought about Missy, Natasha, anything to make me angry and remember why I couldn’t show an ounce of weakness around these people. I saw Claudia’s office, shining like some light at the end of the tunnel and that did the trick.

Claudia was curled up in her armchair, her laptop on a sleek lap desk, a cup of coffee in hand.

I tapped on the door and she looked up, smiling brightly when she made eye contact.

“Leila!” Claudia noticed my mother beside me. “And who’s this?”

“This is my mother, Cheryl Montgomery,” I answered. “She was in the neighborhood-”

“And I just had to meet you!” Mom didn’t even wait for an invitation before she pushed into Claudia’s office.

Claudia put aside her mug and laptop and extended her hand. Mom shook it so hard that I was surprised she didn’t snap Claudia’s arm right off.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, taking a step forward. “She just wanted to say hello. She’s a big fan of
PR
.”

Claudia chuckled good-naturedly, holding my mother’s hand in both of hers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine!” Mom grinned, still staring at Claudia like she was the second coming of Christ. “I know Lay really looks up to you.”

My cheeks tingled with embarrassment. It was true, but oh my
gosh
...