The Billionaire's Past (His Submissive, Part Ten) (5 page)

My core rocked, spasming, cooing as I gripped
him and didn't let go. The warmth spread out over me, pricking my
cheeks and I opened my mouth to explain, but he shook his head as
he moved inside of me, the pace of his thrusts crashing.
Eradicating my apology. Showing me just how hot he found it when I
came, wrapped around him.

"This is all that matters, Leila." He leaned
over me, lips brushing my ear. "Nothing else matters to me."

Section Five

When I walked into the Kent strategy meeting
I expected all bets to be off. The last time Missy Diaz and I
attempted to play nice, it lasted all of five minutes. I had a
feeling I’d walk into the conference room and she’d give me some
sort of acknowledgement, a nod, maybe a smile if she woke up on the
right side of the bed and was feeling generous, but I wasn’t
holding my breath.

I stepped through the doorway, gripping my
expandable folder to my chest, almost like I was holding onto the
illusion that she’d give any of the suggestions and ideas inside a
listen. Sure, we’d had a moment in a cab where we talked about her
sister and put our beef on hold, but that was days ago. It was
Monday, Mia had yet to sign her contract, and from the way Missy
flipped through the papers in front of her, this was going to be a
long meeting.

I was early enough that there were still
seats near the front, but I gravitated to my usual seat near the
back. Away from the line of fire.

Sia Murrow, one of the staff publicists, gave
me a hearty wave. “Hi Leila!”

I had to remind myself to wave and smile
back. She was one of my coworkers who generally didn’t acknowledge
me at all before. At barely five feet with cropped white blond
hair, big, expressive gray eyes and a fitted white dress, she was a
bundle of frenetic energy...all of which was unfortunately focused
on me.

“Have a good weekend?” She wiggled her
eyebrows suggestively and I felt the warmth of embarrassment and a
hefty dose of annoyance. Some random chick who spent months looking
right through me thought we were close enough to hint at questions
about my sex life?

I abandoned my regular seat since it was
right beside her and opted for one three seats away. I gave her a
tight smile and turned my attention to my folder.

“Leila?” Mia said at the front.

I looked up at the sound of my name, only
vaguely aware of the lack of condescension in her voice. "Yes?"

“Can you come up here for a second?”

I was
very
aware of the eyes locked on
me as I slowly rose from my chair. It was barely a ten foot walk to
where she was standing at the head of the table but it stretched on
forever, horror movie style. The dread I’d been holding down burst
free, doing wretched things to my stomach and I was grateful I’d
only had time to scarf down a banana and coffee before the meeting.
Even though my eyes were locked on Missy, I had a pretty good idea
everyone else’s faces were along the lines of ‘Ooo Leila’s in
trouble'.

I battled to keep my face from showing just
how nervous I was, trying to take a page from the Whitmore Art of
the Poker Face.

I stopped a few feet from Missy, giving
myself an internal pinch.
Cut. It. Out. Missy isn’t the
boogeyman. You have a right to be here. Experience. And an
established relationship with the client along with a pretty
awesome management plan.
My input, my presence, was just as
valid as anyone else sitting around the table. Missy Diaz didn’t
have any power over me unless I gave it to her.

I stood up a little taller, ready to face
whatever drama she was about to send my way.

Missy was dressed in all black--blouse,
slacks, with stilettos. Her hair was piled into a tight bun on the
crown of her head and her brown eyes were intensified by smoky eye
shadow. Her blood red lips creased and she gave me a small
smile.

“Why don’t you join me up front?”

I must have looked confused. Heck, I
was
confused. Why did she want me up front? So she didn’t
have to aim so far when she threw daggers my way?

She must have seen the question because she
explained. "We’re partners and I don’t want to have to yell back
and forth all meeting."

Partners.

She gestured behind me. “Is that yours?” She
looked at Sia. “Sia bring Leila’s things up front.”

Sia’s glossy lips soured but she snapped to
action, grabbing my folder and trudging to the front, the ball of
energy fizzling as she looked back and forth between us like she
missed the memo where she was my assistant.

She held it out to me, her eyes narrowed to
charcoal slits.

“Thanks," I said awkwardly, accepting it.

She gave me a crisp nod and went back the way
she came. I had a feeling our faux friendship was pretty much over.
And me and Missy? I still wasn’t sure where we stood.

“Mind if I take a look?” Missy asked
smoothly.

“S-Sure.”

I gave her the folder and watched as she
leafed through the contents. Pulled out folders, scanned papers,
nodding slowly as she surveyed the material. She passed it back to
me. “There’s some good stuff in here.”

Wow. We were partners and now I was getting a
job well done too? I was cautiously optimistic. This was what I
wanted. We didn’t have to be besties or even like each other, but
we should be able to check that at the door and work together.

The last person filed in and all eyes rested
on Missy as she called the meeting to order.

“Good morning,” she began, taking in the room
before continuing. “A new week and new developments in the Kent
case. As I’m sure you know Mia Kent was rushed to the ER after a
suicide attempt.”

Anywhere else, the word suicide would have
raised a few brows or been accompanied by whispers. No one even
blinked weird. We were in the fixing business and it wasn’t all
promoting new movies and setting up TV appearances. Mia’s attempts
weren’t Whitmore and Creighton’s first brush with a star who’d had
enough and unfortunately, it probably wouldn’t be our last. Still,
it was slightly eerie that no one even flinched.

I tried to tell myself it was because the
media had been running the story all weekend. Talking to
psychiatrists and people who knew and worked with Mia, leaving no
stone unturned so the public could be over-informed on every aspect
of her life.

“She was released this morning.” Missy turned
to me. “Have you spoken with Miss Kent?”

I cleared my throat, feeling the nerves
cartwheel in my throat as eyes shifted to me. “We’ve exchanged a
few texts since her admittance." From the way Missy’s eyebrow
curved she wanted more than that so I added, “She seems to be doing
better.”

Mia
was
doing better. She made sure
she let me know that she still didn’t like that ‘mouthy bitch’ and
wasn’t sure if she wanted to be represented by Whitmore and
Creighton. The fact that she was considering it at all told me that
she was at least thinking about her future. Of course I was sure I
let her know that we could help her but more than anything I was
just glad she was showing signs of the smart ass I’d met.

“That’s good,” Missy nodded. She pulled out a
chair and sat down, pulling out a blank sheet of paper. “It still
brings us back to the issue of signing her as a client.” She picked
up a pen and spun it between her fingers. “Any ideas?”

Hands shot up like vines and I had to bite my
lip to hide my amusement. A room full of Hermione Grangers.

Missy pointed the pen at a tall, dark haired
guy near the back. “Paul?”

“I’ve done some research and I found out that
she loves indie music and spa days. We could set her up for the
weekend at Blue Heart and find out the best local band and get them
to do a set for her.”

Missy crinkled her nose. “Girls day out and a
concert for a client that’s way too high profile?”

“We’ll keep it small and intimate,” he
suggested, his voice a little less confident. “Just Miss Kent and
two friends.”

A warning sound fired in my ears and me and
Missy exchanged a look. Paul’s suggestion wasn’t a bad one--but the
idea of her being around friends anything like the one we’d met
was
.

Missy turned to the woman beside him. “Kara,
what’s your suggestion?”

Kara sat up, sweeping her brown hair over one
shoulder. “Well, piggybacking on Paul, I think we should woo her. A
dress by her favorite designer. Shoes. Handbags. Have the chef from
her fave restaurant cook her meals. Fly in treats from her favorite
bakery, no matter the location.” Nods rippled across the room.
“Christmas should come early. We need to show her that we have
resources and we’re ready to use them on her.”

“Interesting,” Mia said quietly, her piece of
paper still blank. “Mark?”

A guy a few seats away who looked like he
just rolled off a wave in SoCal clicked his pen, obviously used to
the limelight because he waited until all eyes were on him before
speaking. “I think we just bring her in and have her talk to some
other clients. Make up an all stars list of people we brought from
D-list to A-list. Show her what we can do.”

All good ideas.

All very...predictable.

Missy leaned back in her seat, mulling them
over. I had a feeling she’d go with door number 3 and not because
Mark was batting his eyes at her. It just seemed like her style.
Confrontational; almost like we were politely sitting her down and
telling her she was at the bottom of the barrel and we were gonna
upgrade her. It could work, done right. I just felt like every idea
was just...too much.

“What do you think, Leila?” Missy glanced at
me curiously.

I shifted in my seat, wondering if I should
use something a little less maverick-y then silencing that
nonsense. I wanted to be heard. Now was my chance.

“Nothing,” I said simply.

“Nothing?” Missy repeated slowly.

“Pampering her, spoiling her, showing our
list of accomplishments?” I nodded agreeably. “They’re good. But
after the first meeting and everything that’s happened since, she’s
spooked. We can’t do something good. We have to do something she
won’t expect.”

“Which would be?”

“Nothing.”

The murmurs that rippled across the room when
I gave my suggestion were decidedly louder now and from the
eyebrows rising skeptically, they thought I was completely
nuts.

“Here’s the thing,” I explained, my voice a
whip that cut through the chatter. I looked at Paul. “I loved your
idea. I think it would have been relaxing.” Kara was next. “What
girl doesn’t want to be spoiled?” I settled on Mark who was eyeing
me warily. “And I think she’d benefit from seeing what we’re
capable of.”

I sat up in my seat, remembering the first
time Mia sauntered into this very room, already putting a wall up.
Already making up her mind that she thought very little of Whitmore
and Creighton and what we could do. The fear disguised as anger in
the bathroom. The shaky mask in place at the hospital.

“Mia Kent has had a charmed life, even before
Carolina, California
. She was the only child, raised in a
small town where she was treated like royalty. She was an unknown
actress, but her talent made her a fortune nearly overnight. Her
fans violently adore her.

Every day is filled with her being pampered
and catered to. There's nothing new or remarkable about glitz and
glamour to her. She doesn’t trust us, so any sort of blow by blow
of what we are capable of would fall on deaf ears. We don’t need to
chase her or woo her. She’ll come to us when she’s ready."

I was done. It was the most words I’d said
aloud to anyone since I’d started working here and it was
surprisingly not 90% uh’s and um’s. I could tell from the
downturned looks on Paul, Kara, Mark and Sia’s faces that I'd
stepped on some toes but the majority of the murmuring was that of
approval. But the person in charge was Missy--and the verdict was
still out.

She put her pen down, picked up the piece of
paper in front of her and balled it up. “I think you’re right,
Leila. We need to give her some room to breathe.”

She stood up, the Missy sign that the meeting
was over. “Nothing it is.”

I broke into a grin in spite of myself, not
even caring that people filed out of the room without giving me any
props or show of support. We were all driven, wanted to be the one
called on, the one that gave the right answer. But Missy standing
at the front and following through with being more receptive meant
everything.

She had a one on one with another client so
she hustled out, leaving me alone when my phone buzzed to life.

Mia K
.

Can u come over? No W and C stuff.

It was the middle of the workday but I didn't
hesitate, plunking out a yes and asking for her address.

Section Six

Everything in the building on 1567 18th
street screamed new money. From the bordello red walls with
glittering white crown molding and larger than life marble statues
to the security guard who nearly tased me because I wasn’t on Mia’s
approved list, it was too much. When I took in the hipsters
lounging in the ground floor cafe reading Nietzsche and young
socialites staring at their iPhones very seriously, I instantly
felt an otherness that was different from my prior experiences with
the filthy rich. Sure, I’d felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb
when I went to Jacob’s apartment the first time and I still felt
awkward at some of the more exclusive restaurants we went to, but
this was a different feeling. Where old money looked down their
noses at me, these people couldn’t even be bothered. I didn’t even
exist.

I stepped up to the oversized door,
swallowing a ‘wow’ as I gripped a knocker and rapped twice. I
cleared my throat and got ready to call out her name, but stopped
when I heard the lock disengaging.