The Billionaire's Wife (Part One) (5 page)

"Everything's alright, Lay." He turned back to his desk with a sigh. "I’m sure you just overheard my mother being her usual self and me calling her on it.” He shrugged, his way of closing the book on the subject. “I really need to put a dent in this." He glanced at me over his shoulder with a half smile that I almost bought. "That was incredible."

All the books and blogs about marriage and being a supportive partner said I should give him space. Let him open up to me when he was ready. But slipping that coat back on, a coat that was supposed to represent how far we'd come, just magnified the fact that even after a year of marriage, we couldn't talk to each other.

I smiled too, my heart heavy. My head filled with questions. I didn't ask any of them.

"I'll see you at home." I paused at the door, a knot in my throat. "I love you."

"Love you too," he said smoothly, already lost in his work again.

I held onto those three words as I climbed back into the cab, pointed home.

He loves me.

There was nothing going on.

Only one of those statements rang true. The other sat in the pit of my stomach like a stone.

****

T
his was a measure of last resort.

After Jacob walked around like everything was normal, when the truth flashed angrily in his eyes before he rebuffed my questions, I was left with one single, exceedingly uncomfortable alternative.

I could ask the other person on the phone—his mother, Alicia Whitmore.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," I sighed, a few minutes away from what my head was telling me was a huge mistake. I focused instead on how picturesque Granite Falls was compared to the city. The roads weren't full of cars stacked like sardines or riddled with potholes. The scent of exhaust fumes and asphalt didn't invade my vents. All the not so charming things about the city were non existent out here. Even the modest homes looked extravagant, and were flanked by white picket fences.

Instead of smoke, money hung on the air out here. As beautiful as everything was, there was something off putting about the manicured lawns and the perfectly painted homes without a smudge of wear or tear. Everything was a little too impeccable. Bad things happened in Granite Falls too, they just had the money to cover their tracks.

What bad thing was Alicia and Jacob covering up?

I pulled up to the gate in front of the Whitmore property. With the iron fence and extensive landscaping, you couldn't even see the house from the street. If my GPS wasn't barking that I reached my destination, I almost would have driven right past. Alicia Whitmore wasn't the kind of woman that did secluded or discreet. Money was important to her and showing just how much she had was doubly so.

The security guard snapped to attention, reminding me of the cold seriousness of the Buckingham Palace guards. He stared at me like I was wearing a ski mask and had 'I'm up to no good' stamped on my forehead.

"Can I help you?" he snapped, not sounding very helpful at all.

"I'm Leila Whitmore. Alicia is expecting me."

The stern expression on his face relaxed and he touched the rim of his ball cap. "Of course. Have a good night."

He returned to his post without another word and I gripped the steering wheel, suddenly getting cold feet. The gate creaked open and I tapped the gas, pulling the car into motion whether I was ready or not. Even in pitch darkness I was in awe of the estate. The drive was as smooth as butter, each side flanked by lush green grass and weeping willows. The mansion sat at the end of the drive, gothic and intimidating. It reminded me of some far off castle in Europe. I expected a horse drawn carriage to be parked out front but there was only a Mercedes. Even though I'd talked to Alicia a little over an hour ago to arrange all this, the house was dark and foreboding.

The only power Alicia has over you is the power you give her. Even though you're coming to her for answers, that doesn't mean you're weak.
But I suddenly felt like every move was torture, my legs filled with lead. My heart clenched and released in time with my fists. My sweaty palms were unable to hold my grip on the keys, which led to me fumbling around in the dark for them.

I exclaimed as flood lights flickered on, my vision blinded by the brightness. I covered my eyes, trying to adjust to the football stadium strength illumination.

I heard the click of heels and struggled to get to my feet.

"Quite the entrance, Leila." Alicia’s voice was as cutting as the cobblestone slicing into my knees. "Is there a reason you're on all fours in my driveway?"

"It's all the rage nowadays, crawling around on all fours," I joked. I was finally able to see the lady of the manor. She wore a cream colored sweater, a black peplum skirt, and a frown.

Her eyes were silver as she looked me over and shook her head. "I'm sure you would know about such things considering your particular tastes."

I guess I should have been happy that she was no longer calling me a gold digging skank, willing to debase myself for a lavish lifestyle, but it still stung.

"I dropped my keys," I said, purposefully changing the subject. "I just-"

She bent down way more gracefully than should have been possible in her red bottom stilettos. She rose, dangling my keys between her pointer finger and thumb like it was a pair of dirty underwear.

"Thanks,” I said with a forced smile.

There was no you're welcome, she just dropped it into my palm and sashayed back the way she came.

I scurried behind her, reminding myself that we had made progress over the past year. She was pretty good at hiding her disapproval in public and her private disdain was a little easier to bear. After all, she didn't have to agree to talk to me at all. Or invite me to her home. Baby steps were better than no steps at all, right?

I swallowed nervously when she stepped aside to allow me entry and the nerves melted into awe as I took in the decor. It was classic elegance with modern sophistication. Pieces of antique furniture were perfectly paired with sleek side tables. Artwork worthy of the best museums were framed in chrome. I couldn't wait to see the—

"You can stop right there."

I froze on the Persian rug, barely two feet inside the door. "What?"

She pointed at a room off to the side the entrance. "From your call, I didn't guess you were coming over for the tour. Let's just get this over with."

Well then.

I bit my tongue and followed her into the room. She gestured at a Victorian chair and I sat down, surprised it was comfortable. Everything in this place seemed too beautiful to be enjoyed. Its purpose was perfection. To invoke envy and awe.

She cleared her throat and gestured at the darkness behind me. I hitched a breath as a small, pudgy man with nervous eyes shuffled out and offered me a bottle of water.

I thanked him and he nodded in acknowledgment. In her own, Alicia way, she was being a good host. That alone was leaps and bounds in the right direction since I was pretty sure there were moments she wouldn't have offered me a glass of water in Hell.

She situated her petite body in a chair across from mine, the throne-like design not lost on me. Her salt and pepper hair hung longer than I'd ever seen it, the waves and slight curls softening her usual sharpness. Her eyes still sliced in my direction like a razor's blade, not allowing me to forget that this wasn't a social call.

I gingerly sipped my water, my throat stinging as I swallowed. I placed the Evian back on the table, and gasped as the butler sprang from the shadows, armed with a cylindrical device. He deposited the bottle into the container, then stepped back out of sight.

"Bottle service?" I said incredulously.

Alicia crossed her legs, reclining with a sigh. "You married money, dear. Certainly such things should come as no surprise to you?"

I wanted to tell her that money or not, I was capable of putting my bottle of water on a coaster, and I didn't treat people like pieces of furniture, but things were awkward enough. "Thank you for seeing me." I folded my hands in my lap. "I'm just going to get straight to the point. I overheard a part of your conversation with Jacob the other day." I watched her for some indication of surprise. Or worry. I found neither.

She shrugged a shoulder. "And? I talk to my son a fair amount, what is this regarding?"

"The conversation seemed...heated," I continued, not letting her see how nervous this made me. The only defense I had against her was that I didn't let it show that she intimidated me. Even after all this time, and all the cruel things she'd said about my relationship with Jacob, and the things she'd done to her own son, I wanted us to at least be cordial. From the permanent scowl she'd had on her face since I walked through the door, we still had a ways to go.

Regardless of the bad blood, I still waited, hoped that she would give me a kernel of the truth. I'd even take a 'it's none of your business'. But she just sat there, eyebrows arched damn near to the vaulted ceilings, waiting for me to get to the point.

I gritted my teeth and let out a frustrated sigh. "Jacob said something about no secrets, then claimed that whatever secret you two are sharing changes everything." My voice got away from me, rising, matching the level of Jacob's tirade that day. It didn't help that she was sitting there, acting like we weren't even speaking the same language. "None of this is jogging your memory? Is there some sort of amnesia bug going around?"

She snorted, clasping her hand to her chest like I'd just uttered something absurd. Only Alicia Whitmore could turn a snort into a slap across the face. "Leila, if you came over here to discuss a conversation you overheard while you were snooping around-"

"I wasn't snooping," I hissed, the blush in my cheeks proving otherwise. I snatched my bottle of water from the chrome holder, chugging it until there was none left and the rage in my veins dulled to a simmer. I put the bottle down and shook my head fiercely as the butler leaped to action. "What's your name?"

His navy blue eyes registered surprise, then shot over to Alicia. She must have nodded because he answered, his voice low and unsure. "Miles. Miles Randall."

"Thank you, Miles, but I can throw my own bottle away. Just because someone can afford to be lazy and treat people like they're nameless cogs in a machine built only to satisfy their every whim doesn't mean it's right. You're valid, and so am I."

"Good lord," Alicia huffed. "Get down off your soap box. The conversation was nothing. If you're so concerned, why haven't you discussed it with your husband?"

"You think I haven't tried that?" I fired back, lurching to my feet. I couldn't sit here, breathe the same toxic air as her for one more second. "You think I didn't try everything under the sun before I came to you? I knew you'd treat me like I was worthless. Probably get in a handful of insults before I even walked through the door. I knew that I'd leave here disappointed."

"Then why did you come here?" she snapped, showing the first sign of anything other than ambivalence. She reined it in as quickly as she unleashed it, sniffing and rolling her shoulders back. Head high. "Why set yourself up for disappointment? It's not very bright, dear."

This time I was the one that stared. Eyes boring into the bitter woman in front of me. I knew her past; how in love with her late husband, Carlton Whitmore, she was. How his repeated infidelities ate away at her heart until her son was left with the mangled remains.

"You're telling me that if you knew your husband was keeping a secret, carrying the weight of something heavy and shutting you out, you wouldn't do everything within your power to fix it?"

The smug tilt of her head faltered and she blinked rapidly, caught off guard. The vulnerability I'd hoped for was in the way her lips parted, speechless, and the slight tremble of her chin. Had I finally reached her? Could she relate to the helplessness I felt? The frustration? The anger?

And then the iron curtain fell back into place. She looked right through me, tapping the stem of her glass. Miles moved at the speed of light, filling her glass to the brim. She swirled it, brought it to the tip of her aristocratic nose and inhaled deep before she kissed the rim.

After a deep, hearty sip, she gently lowered it back to the table, flicking her perfectly manicured fingers through her hair. "Just because you share my last name doesn't mean we have anything in common. I owe you no explanation." Her eyes darkened, nearly black with animosity. "I owe you nothing at all." Before I could reason with her she dismissed me altogether. "I believe Mrs. Whitmore has worn out her welcome. Please see to it that she's shown the door, and encouraged to not let it hit her in the ass on the way out."

Tears of anger and embarrassment blurred my view as I stormed out on my own accord, fumbling with my keys before I climbed into the car. As I sped back to the city, back home, an unsettling thought raced through my head.

In a way, she'd answered my question.

Jacob was right.

Whatever this secret was, it would change everything.

Anger turned me inside out, wringing and twisting my heart until I couldn’t breathe. I wouldn’t become Alicia. I wouldn’t sit by while my husband kept secrets and shut me out.

I swerved to the shoulder of the road, not even bothering to park as I punched Jacob’s number. It only rang once before he answered. I had no time to practice what came next. So I just rolled with it.

“Hey ba-”

“You’re lying to me!” I interrupted vehemently, tears piercing my eyeballs. Slashing their way down my cheeks. “You told your mother no more secrets, but apparently it’s just fine to keep secrets from your wife.”

The line went quiet and for one infuriating moment, I thought he hung up on me. But the call was still connected according to my dashboard.

“I’m not dropping this. It’s not going away,” I snarled, my chest pumping, rushing to catch up with my racing heart. “I know what I heard. Why won’t you talk to me?!”

“I’m still sorting through all of this myself, Leila!” he snapped. “I was hit with this information, and then I had to verify it. I had to be certain before I took any action. “