Boxed Set: The His Submissive Series Complete Collection (Part One-Part Twelve) (70 page)

Rachel’s eyes flashed, not going down without a fight. “Hold on one second-”

“Inside,” Monique hissed, leading us inside the building. Once we were through the door, I wanted to put as many floors between me and Rachel as possible, but I knew this conversation wasn’t over, so I followed Monique to the coffee shop on the first floor.

There were only a few employees near the back, typing furiously on laptops and a barista stocking the sugars on the island near the door. My mouth watered as the smell of brewing coffee hit me like a punch to the gut. Since the only way to get caffeine five minutes ago would have been sucking on my blouse, I’d consigned to just grabbing something after I checked in with Jacob. I opened my mouth to say I’d be right back, but snapped it shut when I saw Monique hadn’t brought us in here to bond over a cup of coffee.

Rachel completely missed the memo.

“I’ll take a triple soy latte, as dry as possible,” she said, sauntering over to a table with a sigh liked she’d just done something terribly exhausting.

Monique didn’t even flinch. “Tell me about the program.”

Rachel shrugged a bare shoulder. “It’s all on the website. Ask Leila.”

“What?” I said shrilly, shaking my head again and dodging the darts Monique hurled my way. “I have no idea what’s going on-”

“Leila, this isn’t the time for modesty,” Rachel said, pulling her shades from the top of her head and placing them on the table. “Reach was a fantastic idea and is going to garner so much positive capital with the public.”

The tight line of Monique’s jaw relaxed slightly, like she hadn’t thought about it from that angle. She walked over to the table where Rachel sat and pulled out a chair, lowering herself slowly. Still suspicious, but listening.

I caught Rachel’s eye over Monique’s head and mouthed, “What the fuck!” but her smirk told me that I was along for the ride, whether I wanted to be or not. I forced a smile when Monique whipped around to me, gesturing at the seat beside her.

“So tell me more about this program.”

Rachel looked at me and when I croaked, she filled in the blanks. “We’re still working out the kinks, but it’s an outreach program, dedicated to helping troubled youth and young adults. When I started following Mia Kent’s story and tragic suicide attempt, I saw so much of myself in her. This business can be amazing and terrible and I know if I would have had a veteran actress who’d been there and could steer me in the right direction, maybe I wouldn’t have made some of the mistakes that still haunt me to this day.”

So now she was Mother Theresa. This would have been all well and good if not for the fact that she’d completely made up my involvement in this operation. Monique was nodding, probably imagining all the goodwill the company could garner with an organization like this, but I knew that if Rachel Laraby was involved, there had to be some sort of ulterior motive.

Rachel swept her hair over her shoulder, drawing a breath and releasing it slowly. “That being said, I knew that Leila had a personal relationship with Mia and would be best suited for approaching her and asking her to be a part of this process. I fully intended to discuss this with Mia first, but the press heard the rumblings of it and found me as I was on my way to schedule it with Leila.”

“I didn’t have anything with you on the books-” I began.

“Right,” Rachel interjected. “Which is why I came in bright and early, hoping to talk to you first thing, but Natasha informed me you weren’t in. I was on my way out of the building when I was cornered.”

So now the on-the-fly press conference my fault because I was running late
.

Monique’s lips pursed together as she looked over at me. “In the future, I want anything that involves the Whitmore and Creighton brand run by me first.”

I wanted to protest, to tell her that Rachel was lying, plotting, but she was already up, making her way out of the coffee shop.

Leaving me alone with
her
.

Rachel picked at her nails dismissively. “Could you be a dear and grab a coffee for me? I’ve been so busy getting our organization up and running-”

“
Our
organization?” I said incredulously. “The fictitious organization I didn’t even know existed until ten minutes ago?”

“That’s right,” she said coolly. “With your caring and giving nature, I figured you’d be elated that I involved you.”

“I’m not elated about anything that involves our names being uttered in the same breath,” I said brusquely. I jerked my chair back, drawing the eye of the two staff members and not really caring. “I don’t know what you have planned, but I’m going to talk to Monique and tell her that it has nothing to do with me. And if you do anything to Mia-”

Rachel let out a haughty chuckle. “Just what do you expect me to do to her, Leila?”

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully, standing to my feet. “And that’s what worries me.”

“It’s a non-profit, not a criminal organization.” She rolled her eyes. “And what I said to Monique was the truth.”

“Oh really? All that BS about how we decided to start it together?”

“Well not that part obviously,” she said, looking at me like I was an idiot. “The part about wanting to help someone not make the same mistakes I did.”

“Right.”

“I’m being serious!”

“And honest?” I scoffed. “Sorry, but I don’t trust you, Rachel.”

She almost looked insulted by that statement, her glossy lips creased with hurt. How could she be though? She’d been out to get me ever since she learned Jacob and I had a relationship that was anything but professional. She’d set me up, shamed me, done everything she could to try and break us up. None of that matched up with her supposed kind-hearted nature.

I didn’t buy it.

She sniffed, picking up her shades and pulling them back on with angry, jerky motions. “You don’t have to trust me. You just have to know that when I set my mind to do something, it gets done.”

I let out a snort, finding the clock. 11AM and the last thing in the world I wanted or needed to be doing was arguing with Rachel Laraby. “If you want to pretend like you’re some caring philanthropist over night, knock yourself. Leave me out of it.”

“But you’re already involved,” she said, rising slowly. “You were involved the moment he chose
you
.”

I went rigid. I should have known it would somehow circle back to this. I was still a little confused as to how she figured setting up a fake organization would lead to Jacob realizing our relationship was a mistake and rushing into her arms.

“This should be good,” I scowled, knowing the smart thing would be to walk away from the craziness but genuinely curious to see what was going on in her head.

“I sat down and tried to figure out what it is, what he could possibly see in you that he wouldn’t have in me in spades.” She pulled her clutch beneath her arm. “It couldn’t be your looks. You’re not that funny. So it had to be your Anne Frank-like optimism and niceness and all that bullcrap.”

I let out a laugh that really made everyone in the room lock their attention on us. When she popped her shades on top of her head to glare at me I had to clap a hand over my mouth to keep from guffawing.

“You are completely-”

Her eyes shot away from me and her mouth fell open. When everything else seemed to go completely silent, I turned around, smiling when I saw Jacob at the door, then feeling my heart drop when I saw the hurt coursing across his face.

Rachel moved toward him before I could react. “Jacob it’s so good to-”

“Leila.” One word and I knew something happened.

Rachel disappeared and it was just us. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my mother.” His voice was raw, every vocal chord, every emotion exposed. “She’s in the hospital.”

****

I
f there was ever any question as to whether Jacob loved his mother, it was put to rest when we screeched from the Whitmore and Creighton parking garage.

Under normal circumstances, I would curtly remind him that no matter how many zeroes on the price tag or bells and whistles under the hood, all cars looked the same wrapped around a pole, but I just clutched my seatbelt in silence. That kind of comment usually garnered a raised eyebrow and a comment like, ‘You know this is a Maserati, right?’. I had no idea what my answer would be today because I'd never seen him this way. The mask usually shielded his truth away; time and love gave me the ability to see past it most times but in general, I only saw what Jacob wanted me to see, just like everyone else.

As we shot over several lanes to a chorus of honks and Jacob letting out a hail of expletives, my stomach knotted like someone took my insides and twisted them like a rag. There was no mask. His face was a kaleidoscope of emotion, each one more chilling than the last. I saw the snarl of anger and went through the list of possible suspects. Traffic? It didn't matter that it was an inanimate thing; his chokehold on the steering wheel and the string of profanity that would make a raunchy comedian blush told me that didn't matter.

Was he mad at his mother? That would be understandable. After all the woman put him through, the way she controlled him even after all this time was maddening. I bit my lip, watching the vein in his temple twitch. Or maybe he was mad at himself. The other emotions usually blurred behind a facade of cool were tied to the anger. Sorrow. Hurt.

What if he blamed himself?

"This isn't your fault, Jacob," I murmured. "It's no one's fault ."

"She had a heart attack, Leila," he said hollowly. "She's in shape, is OCD about eating and living healthily so that leaves one other thing: stress."

"But that doesn't mean-"

"The last thing I said to her was 'No amount of mothering now will change the fact that you did a shit job of it for 28 years.'"

A silence spread throughout the car. I'd wondered why he went quiet when I joked about cutting her off. He'd already done it.

He let out a groan of frustration as the car in front of us wasn't feeling adventurous and opted to not run the light. He yanked his tie loose then pulled it off altogether, hurling it over his shoulder.

"I told her the only connection we had, would ever have, was the fact that she brought me into this world." His voice lowered, jaw ticking. "I said junkies did the same thing everyday. It didn't mean she'd earned a place in my life." He tilted his head in my direction, regret wetting his eyes. "That can't be the last thing I say to her, Lay. Even after all she's done."

I cradled his cheek in my hand and said the only thing I could think of. The only thing I wanted to believe because the alternative would destroy him.

"It's gonna be alright." The eyes that slayed me every time were slits of disbelief, so I said it again. "It's gonna be alright, Jacob."

They softened, then hardened to sea glass when someone laid on their horn behind us. There was something dangerous brewing and I told him we were just a few blocks from the hospital so he didn't jump out of the car and bash someone's head in. We hit no more lights and the traffic seemed to thin out almost as if they knew Jacob couldn't take much more.

The paparazzi were waiting, but security kept them away from the valet drop off and entrance. Jacob was all thumbs with his money clip, so I put a steady hand over his shaking ones. "I'll take care of the valet. Go find out about your mom."

I watched him dash in the building then turned to the young valet, her face red with adoration like she was committing the precious seconds Jacob was right there to memory. When I cleared my throat, the red darkened as she gave me an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I just love the show."

I smiled back and pulled a twenty from my purse and took the tag. I heard the screech of the reporters questions, bulbs pulsing like strobe lights. Fact was, the last thing I wanted to do was go inside and face some terrible news, but that meant standing out here with them; and if something happened and I wasn't by Jacob's side, I'd never forgive myself.

I stepped inside and muttered, ‘You gotta be kidding me’ as soon as I saw Nurse Deadwood's brutal face. Jacob wasn't in the lobby so I assumed he'd put the fear of god in the woman. I didn't have that kind of presence and I sure as hell didn't have a wad of cash to bribe her with. I took a deep breath, banishing the defeatist attitude.
You're getting through that door, Leila. One way or another.

I marched to the desk, replacing the nurse's squirrelly eyes with Rachel's big ones, making what came next easier.

"You're going to let me through that door," I said firmly. "And not because I write you a check. I'm family. That's my fiancé and future mother-in-law back there. I belong with them."

It was out. I stood my ground and waited for her to tell me to promptly turn my butt around and exit before she called security. Instead, she held out a name tag, hand trembling. "Mr. Whitmore is waiting for you."

I frowned slightly before raising my chin. "Good." I strode to the secure area seeing, Jacob at the end of the hall. He held up a finger and came toward me. I must have still been smiling like I'd slain a dragon or pulled a sword out of a stone because he gave me a weird look.

"Everything okay?"

I shook off my grin, but I could still hear it in my voice. "Yeah, it's just that nurse-"

"Deadwood?" His eyes narrowed. "I know she fleeced you and Missy. She should thank whatever deity she believes in that she still has a job." His voice blazed. "Did she give you any problems?"

I shook my head slowly, still stunned. If she was on Jacob's shit list, I actually felt sorry for her. I gestured at the nurse who was at the end of the hall, waiting patiently. "How's your mom?"

He sliced a hand through his hair, the stern look in his eyes fading into annoyance. "Doctor's in now. No visitors until he says so."

As we made our way back to where the nurse was waiting I realized it was more than just patience rounding her stance. It was the confidence of someone that was desensitized to celebrity. Under different circumstances, she might've been as star-struck as the valet. She had an average build, dirty blond hair and tired green eyes. The kind of woman that worked hard and swapped the tabloids from the checkout rack to escape her life before heading home to rambunctious kids. None of those glittering lights mattered here. Within these walls, she was in charge.