The Billionaire's Secret (BDSM Erotic Romance) (His Submissive, Part Six) (6 page)

Finally, I felt strong enough to stand to my feet. He took a few steps back and I closed the lid and flushed the toilet. I avoided his gaze in the mirror as I washed my hands. He offered me a towel and I pressed it to my lips. When I finally met his eyes, I saw white hot terror and an unspoken question.

“I’m not pregnant!” I blurted, squashing that assumption dead. We were mostly careful and I was on birth control. “I think Rudy’s is the culprit. Delicious going down, not so much coming back up.”

He visibly relaxed. “Food poisoning?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I said with a sigh, then frowned. “You didn’t talk to Natasha? I told her I thought I had a stomach thing.”

Jacob’s jaw twitched. “She didn’t say anything when I called this morning.”

Of course she didn’t. I pushed away my frustration. I had bigger things to worry about--like my inability to keep fluids or solids down. And the fact that Jacob just had a front row seat to yuck.

I blushed every shade of red, trying to think of something to say. To do. “I’m sorry.”

He gently tilted my chin upward, his face awash with concern. “You’re apologizing for being sick?”

“But you just saw--”

“You don’t feel well. You’re human.” He leaned in and pressed his lips against my forehead. “It doesn’t make you any less attractive or make me love you any less.” He pulled back. “You don’t really think I’m that shallow, do you?”

I nibbled on my lip, shaking my head. “I think you’re amazing.”

The side of his mouth arched upward, creating a gorgeous half smile. “Amazing, huh?”

And just like that, I didn’t feel as sick and wanted to do so many other things. Most of them would require him stripping off those jeans, which really was a shame. But I was pretty sure that Jacob and I would both be scarred for life if we kissed and I...I shuddered at the very thought.

“You okay?” he regarded me slowly, his eyes soft with tenderness.

“I’m fine,” I nodded at the door behind me. “I think I’d feel better with a little distance between me and this room though.”

He let me file out first then closed the door solidly behind us. I balled up the sheets on the couch and tossed them on the beanbag in the corner. Jacob’s eyebrows arched in amusement before he walked over and sat down beside me.

“What?” I said, peering over at him. “Surprised that you’re actually sitting on a real-life futon?”

“This isn’t the first futon I’ve sat on or slept on,” he said with a smirk. He took in my shock and elaborated. “When I was sixteen, I ran away from home. I was sick of my parents, of all the expectations that came with the Whitmore last name so I crashed on a friend’s futon, a few blocks from the Village. I spent a month fancying myself an artist, living off Ramen and coffee until my mother came down and convinced me to return home.”

It was hard to picture Jacob as an artist type, curled up on a futon with a coffee mug. Heck, as soon as he said ‘ran away’ I assumed he went to Europe or somewhere warm and tropical.

“Now you look surprised,” he mused, stretching his arm out on the cushion behind me.

“I just assumed a super-rich kid’s idea of running away would look a lot different than sleeper sofas and oodles of noodles.”

He let out a grunt of acknowledgment and glanced away. I guess we were done talking about the past. That just left the present.

And our future.

“I want to talk about what you said yesterday,” I said softly.

I half expected him to interrupt me halfway through, as soon as he got the gist of where the conversation was headed. Assert his dominance and remind me who was in charge; who had the right to be angry and hurt. But all he offered was, “Okay”.

I chewed on my lip, picking at a hole in the futon cover. “You brought up what happened with Rachel.” I breathed deep as the hurt returned. “Compared it to not telling you about Cade.” My eyes shifted to him, holding still when I saw he was watching me intently. “It wasn’t really a fair comparison.”

He nodded slowly. “I agree. That was out of line. Instead of explaining how I felt, I defaulted to that.” His voice tightened. “I said it because I knew it would hurt you.”

I sat back, feeling a strange wave of relief. I guess I already knew that was his intent, but hearing him say it out loud meant I could let it go.

“I’m ready to talk about it now, if you’re ready to listen.”

I brought my leg up on the cushion, angling my body toward him. Staring into the eyes of the man I loved so much it hurt. “I’m ready.”

He drew a breath and began. “Hearing about you meeting with Cade, especially after learning about your attraction to him--”

“Past attraction,” I interjected. He gave me a stern look and I hung my head. “Sorry. I’m listening.”

“It hurt, Leila,” he continued. “I had to try and figure out why you’d lie about it in the first place. What if you still had feelings for him? What did you talk about? Did you connect with him? Did he make you smile? Laugh? These were the questions that I asked myself. And then I came home to that fancy dinner and the first thing that came to mind was cheating spouses overcompensating. Buying forgiveness.”

I opened my mouth to explain but stopped when I realized that at its root, the dinner was a big apology for what happened with Cade. I had done it to soften the blow and get forgiveness. “I’m sorry, Jacob. I really, truly am.”

“I know,” he answered. “And I’m sorry that I questioned your love. I know you love me, Leila.” I can feel it every time you look at me, every time you kiss me, every time you come undone in my arms.”

I drew a shaky breath. I was already filled with so much love for this man and now desire was heating me, making me forget that ten minutes ago I was puking my guts out.

“This is all a first for me. I’ve never let anyone in the way I let you in. To see what’s beneath. To really see me.”

I faltered as I remembered something Cade said, but I pushed it away, focusing on the now. Focusing on my heart. “I don’t want you to ever doubt me again, Jacob. And I won’t keep things from you.”

“I won’t,” he assured me. He leaned over and planted a soft kiss on my lips before standing up. “And now that we’ve straightened that out, I’m going to take care of you.”

I leaned back, watching him walk to the kitchen to grab me another Gatorade and a few crackers. I didn’t think it was possible to love him more.

I was wrong.

****

I brought the tiny red straw to my lips and sighed with satisfaction. The sweet and sour punch of my green apple mojito wet my tongue before cruising down my throat. After two days of getting back to a hundred percent, Megan and I decided to go all out. We’d started with dinner at a posh Italian restaurant and were finishing up with a few drinks at Blue. People joked its namesake was 'blue' because once you got your bill, your smile turned upside down.

Megan ordered a refill of her club soda, drawing a tight smile from the bartender and a chuckle from me.

"I told you--we're celebrating and drinks are on me." She started to protest but I held up a hand. "I appreciate your hospitality, but if I would have spent one more day cooped up in there, I would have lost it."

Any other job would have looked at me sideways on my way out the door for taking three days sick leave for food poisoning, but Jacob insisted--and even stopped by with broth, crackers, Evian, and ginger ale.

When I finally came back to the office, I could tell he'd had a word with Natasha. She'd leapt from her seat as soon as I stepped out of the executive elevator, fake kindness on full blast as she talked about how glad she was that I was back and feeling better.

And it was good that I was back--and with a vengeance. Even Jacob was impressed when I spoke up at a meeting about a client's dilemma and offered input and a view the team had missed.

So tonight was about celebrating. New beginnings. And you can't celebrate with fizzy water.

Megan ordered a screwdriver. "I'm pretty sure that's the most expensive cup of OJ on the planet."

I took another sip of my drink, warmth wrapping me in a tingling blanket. "Don't worry about that." I gestured between the both of us. "You and me? Worry free zone."

She cocked a red eyebrow. "Are you drunk already?"

It was my second, but I was a notorious lightweight. I gave her a conspiratorial wink. "Maybe."

"Oh lord," she said, shaking her head but unable to shake loose the smile painted on her lips.

"And the night is still young," I said, plunking out my straw and downing the rest in two gulps.

And I jinxed myself.

That rhythmic buzzing at my rib wasn't my heart jumping around or the music weaving in and out of every part of me. It was coming from the purse hooked on my shoulder. It was my phone.

We don’t really work in a vacuum. We’re needed when we’re needed.

I dumped my purse on the bar, and grabbed my cell from the sparse contents. One missed call.

"From Lisa Jones?" I said aloud, frowning.

"What's up?" Megan piped beside me.

"One second." I said begrudgingly. “Work thing.”

I had a feeling our celebratory evening was about to come to a swift end. When Lisa's soft voice filtered through the receiver, harried and frantic, I signaled the bartender and mouthed 'check please'.

Megan was a little too chipper about not downing her drink, walking in step with me as we pushed out the exit. "What kind of work thing?"

"I'm the point person with Cade," I explained, waving my arm to wave down a cab. "When shit hits the fan, I'm the number she calls."

And apparently, shit was bombarding the fan. Cade had apparently stumbled into the studio, smelling like a liquor store and yelling at everything that moved. Lisa wanted to cancel the interview but Cade wouldn't listen to reason.

Megan and I slid into the back of a cab and I told the cabbie the production studio's address.

"So after everything that happened with Jacob--"

"Why am I off to the rescue?" I finished. I popped a piece of gum in my mouth and spritzed myself with body splash. Even though I'd only had two drinks, I knew the last thing I needed was to smell like alcohol when Cade was drunk off his ass. "Because I'm a professional."

Or I was trying really, really hard to be. Honestly, the last thing I wanted was to be in the same room as Cade Wallace. And blitzed Cade Wallace? No thank you.

The cab pulled up in front of the studio and I handed him a hundred dollar bill. I could feel Megan's worried gaze, but I pushed it away. I was worried enough for the both of us and I needed to Cut. It. Out. If Cade saw he was affecting me, he'd pounce. I wasn’t trying to give him an excuse to relaunch Operation Snag Leila.

I gave my name to security and got a clearance badge. I did some deep breathing, stretched out my neck, buttoned my jacket and rolled my shoulders back.

I gasped when the elevator doors retracted and Lisa was standing right in front. She’d sweated right through her blouse and her pale features were flushed with anger.

She took me in, noticing that I'd flat ironed my hair and was wearing stilettos too high and sexy for business.

Her face fell. "You were out. If I would have known..." She pulled at her spiky blond hair. "I'm going to kill Cade!"

"It's alright," I said smoothly, even though that couldn't be further from the truth. Especially when I heard someone holler 'LISA!' that was loud enough for the whole freaking city to hear.

Even though I knew the answer, I gave her a wary look. "Cade?"

She nodded and if I needed further confirmation, PA's and staff members scattered past, each wearing a more irritated look than the last.

Cade repeated the screech and Lisa jumped out of her bones then wheeled toward the end of the hall. He let out a string of expletives because she couldn’t move faster than the speed of light.

Oh, hell no.

I grabbed her shoulder, stopping her. "Why don't you go talk to Jon's staff and let him know the interview will have to be canceled."

Lisa was a spunky chick. When she was first introduced, she traded barbs with Cade even though she was barely five feet tall. The fact that worry shaded her gaze set sirens off in my head. Sirens that the alcohol in my system dulled.

“There is no way he’s going to give an interview in his current state,” I said adamantly.

I didn’t wait for that to sink in because from the noise barreling from the end of the hallway, I needed to get to Cade before he razed the place to the ground. Even liquid courage couldn’t prepare me for the number Cade had done on the dressing room.

It looked like a toddler took the block of space, gave it a good shake then dropped it in favor for a shiny new toy. Every chair in the room was upside down. The mirror was splintered, shards of glass glittering on every surface. Bulbs flickered ominously overhead. Clothes were strewn about. Makeup, coffee, and bottles created a Pollock painting of stuff. The last brave soul skittered past me with a look on their face that said ‘Good luck’.

Cade’s back was to me, his muscles pulsing through his blazer like at any moment he’d Hulk out and shred everything to pieces.

He whirled to face me, a scowl on his face that softened when he realized I wasn’t another staffer or Lisa. When I took in his crazed eyes I wanted to retreat, but I remembered that I was the handler. I couldn’t show fear. I was in charge.

I put on a mask. Nothing but business. “What’s the problem, Cade?”

“You look great,” he deflected. He popped the collar of his polo like that changed the rest of his misshapen appearance.

“You look terrible.”

I unwisely stepped in his direction and even with five feet between us, he reeked. He smelled like he guzzled every liquor store in a fifty mile radius.

I pinched my nose closed. “Was there some sort of party I didn’t know about?”

“You tell me,” he winked, giving me a look over. “Looks like I wasn’t the only one living it up. I thought you looked amazing in corporate chic, but club siren looks great on you.”

Under different circumstances, I might have been flattered. But considering he was slurring every other word and was leering at my chest like a first class douche, I swatted the comment away. “The interview is canceled, Cade.”