The Billionaire’s Lust (His Submissive, Part Seven) (6 page)

“Everything alright?”

“It’s great,” she squeaked, then snapped her compact closed and slumped. “This blush is too much, isn’t it? And my ass looks huge and--”

“You look fantastic,” I assured her. And I wasn’t just saying it so we could get out the door. Her deep emerald sequined dress stopped just past her knees, clinging in all the right places. Her crimson hair hung in soft waves around her face. And while she was wearing twice as much makeup as usual, it was the right mix of color and drama for the occasion.

“No,
you
look great,” she groaned. “I look like I’m lost.”

She clearly wasn’t budging so I raked my mind for something, some way to help her see what I saw. “Come here.” I drug her by the hand, which was easier said than done since she towered above me in her stilettos.

She still wasn’t sold but she conceded with a sigh once we were in the hall. She wrenched her hand from mine, locking her apartment door. “Just hold on a --”

I was already two doors down, banging on the door before going to the next.

“Leila what do you...?” Her voice trailed off as doors swung open, heads popping out into the hall. A young girl, probably not older than six, was the first to step in the corridor, donning a Dora the Explorer t-shirt and a curious expression. An older woman remained in the safety of her apartment, her eyes narrow slits that rounded in surprise when she saw me and Megan. A college-aged guy stood in his doorway, eyeballing us.

Megan was glaring at me and mouthed,
What the hell are you doing?

“Sorry to bother yall,” I said with a big grin, taking in the audience. “This’ll just take a second.” I moved to Megan’s side and put a hand on the small of her back. “I just wanted to ask a question—how does Megan look?”

The little girl stepped closer, her wide eyes taking Megan in pensively. “She’s pretty like Ariel!” When her mother stepped into the hall with a frown, the little girl darted behind her legs, peeking out nervously.

Megan reddened, turning to the child’s mother. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Marsden--my friend and I were just leaving.”

The woman scooted her daughter back inside before giving Megan a nod. “You look lovely, dear.”

Megan was pulling me to the stairs, but there was still the older lady that was staring at her like she brought back memories and the guy ogling her like she was the reason the word ‘sexy’ had been created in the first place.

I planted my feet, appealing to the woman first. “She looks amazing, right?”

She flashed a brief, nearly toothless grin. “
Muy bonita
.”

“Oh my God,” Megan hissed, tugging me closer to the exit. “It’s official, I’m embarrassed, can we just go?”

I shifted my attention to the guy and he licked his lips, stroking his chin like he was imagining all the things he wanted to with her--in and out of the dress. The door to his apartment swung open wider, a young woman joining his side.

“What’s going on here?” she said, not remotely friendly or in the mood for games.

The guy’s whole demeanor changed, tail firmly between his legs. “Uh, our neighbor was just asking about her dress.”

The girlfriend looked Megan and I
up and down, setting us both on fire with her glare before turning the heat on her man. They disappeared back into their apartment, already arguing as I finally let Meg yank me down the stairs.

“Thanks for that,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll still be going at it when I get home.”

“Well, you didn’t believe me when I told you that you looked amazing.”

“Yeah, like any of them would have said that I looked like crap,” she snorted.

I paused at the landing. “We have two more floors before we get to the lobby. If you need a second, third, or tenth opinion—”

She stopped, turning slowly before blinking up at me. “You’d do that--embarrass the hell out of me, just to help me feel better?”

“To help you see that you look kick ass tonight,” I clarified, maneuvering past her. “That guy isn’t getting laid for like, two weeks because he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

She went quiet and we finally made it downstairs. I worried that maybe I’d gone too far, especially considering the last time we sa
w each other we’d been at each other’s throats. “I thought I was helping. If it was too much, I’m sorry--”

“No, I’m sorry,” she interrupted. “I know why you did it and it was really sweet.” She started fanning her eyes
, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Just don’t ever do it again, okay? And about Lucy’s—”

I felt tears of my own pool and my throat tightened. Now I was going to cry. “It’s okay. I was out of line and you needed a friend and I was being a horrible one.”

She gave me a tight hug then pulled open the door. “Let’s get out of here before we both ruin our makeup.”

The limo
pulled onto the street, each slap of the tire against the asphalt bringing us closer to the theater that was hosting the premiere.

“I wasn’t kidding about what I said back at the apartment, Leila.”

I snapped my compact closed and sliced my eyes over to her. “You look great, Megan.”

“Not about that,” she said with a snicker. “So don’t get the driver to pull over so you can wrangle a herd of strangers to boost my confidence.” She slid her gloss back into her clutch then hesitantly met my eyes. “I’m talking about you and Jacob. Tonight’s not the result of some argument and you’re trying to just piss him off by going to Cade’s event, right?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Wow. I really must have been a bitch lately if that seems like a remote possibility.”

She settled back in her seat, a smirk on her glossy lips. “Your word, not mine.”

“Sorry,” I said with a weak smile. I couldn’t fault her for being shocked—run-ins with Cade had been the source of a lot of contention between me and Jacob. And considering it had been The Leila Show 24/7 ever since I climbed on the Whitmore jet, bitch was being kind. I could tell her how I thought that Jacob and I had worked things out, but it was time for me to be the friend she’d been to me. The best friend she deserved.

“Tell me what’s going on with you and the new guy you’re seeing,” I said, remembering what she said in the restaurant.

“Nothing to tell.” She managed to keep her voice light, and if I didn’t know her, I might have let her shrug it off, but there was an undercurrent of anger. Of hurt.

“I think we both know that’s not exactly true.”

The nonchalant gleam in her eyes frosted over to an unmistakable ‘Danger Ahead’. “There’s nothing going on with any guy of any sort.”

“Nothing?” I said, not budging. “You were downing margaritas like they were cups of water. You’re a one-and-done kind of girl when it comes to drinking.”

“I thought we were talking about you and Jacob. Why are you trying to change the subject?”

“Why are you?” I fired back.

She flipped her hair then glanced out the window, then back to the front, then picked at invisible lint on her dress. Anything except looking me full-on. This guy, whoever he was, had really gotten under her skin.

“We don’t have time for it right now.” When the car slowed to a stop, we both looked out and saw that downtown was officially a parking lot.

“Well would you look at that!” I said, crossing my arms. “Looks like we have plenty of time.”

“You’re really not gonna drop this?”

“Nope.”

She let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. There is no guy. There was a guy, but now there’s just me. I’m over it, I’m fine. End of story.”

“A story generally has a beginning, middle, and end.”

“And I just gave you a synopsis. Spoiler alert—it’s over.”

“Megan, I’m trying to do right by you,” I explained. “You’ve always been there for me. I can already tell I’m gonna have to call my mob connections and have some guy offed. At least tell me why I’m risking life in prison.”

She pursed her lips and I could tell she was holding back laughter. She shifted in her seat, shaking her head. “Leila, the closest thing you have to a mob connection is an addiction to
I Married a Mobster
on Netflix.”

She glanced out the window, clearly wishing the traffic would magically dissipate and she’d be off the hook. When she realized it wasn’t happening, she gave in.

“The guy is the PE teacher at my school. I’d heard the rumors and was warned about him. And I swear I was strong and shrugged off his compliments and advances. And then he stuck up for one of my kids.

This kid was marked for torture from day one. Half the size of the others, he stutters, uniform is always dirty and wrinkled. I’ve written up every student that’s ever picked on hi
m or even looked at him wrong in my class, but I can’t be everywhere.

One day after recess, he got cornered and I saw him. The teacher who couldn’t ta
ke a hint. Mark. He had the culprits collared and sent them on their way. That was enough for me to at least start smiling back when he said hello in the halls. But what he said to that little boy, telling him not to listen to them, that he was just as awesome as the others, twice as awesome even…” She paused, smiling at the memory. “That was enough for me to say yes to coffee.”

I knew how much she cared about her students. She purposefully asked for the low performing ones, the problem kids that other staff had written off as unreachable. She didn’t believe in lost causes;
she believed every single child could be reached. Every single one had potential.

Her school wasn’t known for having many educators that would be winning ‘teacher of the year’ awards. The things she’d told me and reported were enough to make any person, parent or not, lose faith in the public school system. It was no surprise that meeting a fellow teacher that took the time to tell a child something that could make a real difference would make her re-think her no dating co-workers rule.

“What happened, Meg?”

“He lived up to his reputation.” She craned her neck then sat back. “We’re almost there.”

The limo driver confirmed it as we pulled down a side street. I had more questions, but I didn’t push it because her attention was solid and unmoving on the street outside. I followed her lead, taking in the concrete jungle, usually lined with throngs of people going about their daily routine. Calewood Street was blocked off and black security gates lined the street, policed by event staff. We joined a procession of limos and luxury cars that inched toward the Bates Theater where the film was being screened. I could already see the larger than life banners with the main characters hanging and waving in the breeze, the most prominent a shot of Cade in dress blues, standing at attention with
Soldier’s Creed
in big block letters. The red carpet area shone as bright as the echoing flashes of cameras. I couldn’t believe I was about to walk on it, that I was really, truly at my first industry red-carpet event.

Megan gripped my hand, the Mark incident forgotten as her face lit up like the stars in the sky. “You ready?”

I was trembling, terrified down to my very bone and yet I felt like Christmas morning. I was nowhere close to ready, but at the same time, I wanted the line too move quicker.

The driver stopped and the valet attendant pulled open the door and offered me a hand. I stepped out, all sounds blurred, crashing into one another, my heart pounding, screaming in my ears.

Megan was beside me, her hand on my forearm. “Let’s rock this bitch.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her sentence and relaxed as we moved forward, stepping onto the carpet. The fan section was first and we waved even though most were probably more concerned with the real celebrities and stars they were rushing the fence to get pictures with. I scanned the area for Cade, but didn’t see him.

I looped my arm through Megan’s and walked through the press area. I leaned in to tell her something when I heard my name ring out over the clamor.

“Leila! Leila over here!”

I stopped. They couldn’t be asking for me. There had to be some actress that shared my name.

“Leila Montgomery! Can we have a minute?”

I looked at Megan, her lips moving but shock turning her words into white noise. I swallowed, giving my head a slight shake as it sunk in. They were asking for me. They wanted to talk to
me
.

“Leila,” Megan said, taking my arm and steering me back toward the line of reporters. “Go talk to them!”

“But I-I’m nobody,” I croaked. “I’m just Jacob’s girlfriend.”

“Well you’re the only Leila Montgomery I know of, so clearly you’re somebody.” She took a step back, like she didn’t want to intrude on the picture, but I held tight to her.

“No way am I doing this alone,” I told her, fear making my voice crack.

She smiled. “You’re the boss.”

I walked over in a daze, still expecting them to look past me to someone else, but a reporter in a clingy black number and a smile that took up half her face had her eyes locked on me.

“Leila can I ask you a few questions for CBN’s red carpet recap?” The woman’s teeth were blindingly white and before I could answer, she shoved a microphone in my face. “Who are you wearing tonight?”