The Billionaire's Trust (His Submissive, Part Eleven) (8 page)

Rachel.

Ugh.

From Natasha's eyes shifting back to
her computer, I figured the conversation was over. For the first
time since I'd met the woman I found myself wanting to linger. Ask
about her stylist. Was she Team Vampire, Team Were, or Team Zombie?
Anything that would prolong the inevitable. I just wasn't ready to
see Rachel's face.

Sensing that I missed her end of
conversation nonverbal cues, she slowly lifted her gaze back to
me.

"Can I help you?"

Think of something!
"Uh,
thank you for all you do."
Wow that was terrible.
I was
surprised I'd gotten the lie out with a straight face.

She rolled her eyes. "Uh huh. Look,
the poor girl has been waiting to see you for hours--"

A spark of hope flashed through me.
"Girl?"

"Yes. Mia Kent."

A smile dashed across my face. "Oh,
thank
God
."

Natasha pushed blond strands behind
her ear, eyeing me strangely. "I wouldn't thank him yet. She wasn't
happy when she stomped in two hours ago and I imagine she's even
less so now."

Uh oh. I booked it down the
corridor, pushing into my office as I dropped my smile and picked
up a frown. The desk was littered with takeout cups and empty
pastry bags. I would have let the mess and clear disrespect for my
things slide if she hasn't made herself at home, feet up on the
desk, powdered sugar covered digits typing away on my
keyboard.

"What the hell?"

She froze mid-sentence, fingers
posed above the keys, aqua eyes jumping from the computer screen.
"Where the hell have you been?" She kicked her worn chucks off the
table and stood up. Her getup was somewhere between rockabilly and
cocaine chic. She paired a sheer, oversized blouse with liquid
leggings. Her hair was tucked under a trucker hat. The only thing
worth noting was a lack of ten layers of makeup on her face.
Without the stuff gunked on her eyelids, I had no problem seeing
just how pissed she was.

I put aside my annoyance at the
mess. "I was at the hospital."

Her anger dissipated. "What? Are you
okay?"

I nodded, moving to the chair in
front or my desk and balling up a pile of empty wrappers and
lowering myself with a sigh. "I'm fine. It's Jacob's mother that's
not doing so well." I looked up at her. "Heart attack."

She peered at me curiously. "I'm
sorry?"

I gave her the smallest of smile.
"We don't get along, but I don't actively wish her ill."

She smirked, repeating the two words
with more authority. "I'm sorry. For Jacob." She made a face like
she was remembering she'd come for a reason and it wasn't to
deliver a verbal Hallmark card. "So when were you gonna tell me
about Project Save Poor Mia?"

I cringed. "Yeah, about that..." She
stood there, hand on hip, waiting. What could I say? It was bad
form to gossip about one client to another. "I'll take care of
it."

"Righttt," she said, voicing
dripping  with sarcasm. "Just how are you going to take care
of it? I have people texting and emailing me, asking me things
like, 'Is Rachel as hot in person as she is onscreen?' and 'How
sweet is Rachel for trying to help you?'. As if I needed any other
proof that this whole thing had nothing to do with me."

I stared at her in awe. I knew Mia
was smarter than people gave her credit for, but I couldn't stop
the swell of pride at how she'd come here and confronted me,
calling bullshit--even if her anger at me was misplaced. Someone
that didn't care about their life wouldn't care, but Mia
did.

I shook off the moment, tightening
the bun at the nape of my neck. "You have every right to be angry
at this situation--"

"At the situation?" she snapped.
"No, I'm mad at
her
--and I'm disappointed in
you."

That hurt worse than any blow she
could have dealt. We'd only known each other for a month, but it
felt like I'd always known her. She could be a bit much with the
texts and early morning calls, but despite my grumblings I loved
that I was the number she called when she was stressed or stuck in
some sketchy spot or couldn't sleep. She was more than my client.
She was my friend. Which is why I was gonna break the cardinal
rule. Well, that and wanting one less person to think Rachel was as
kind and relatable as she seemed.

"This morning was my first time
hearing about the organization."

"But Rachel said..." Mia didn't
finish, cherubic face scrunched as she went through the whole thing
again. She slid against the edge of the desk, sending trash
fluttering to the floor. She ignored my glare. "I don't get
it."

"Rachel and I aren't exactly
besties." So I hadn't flat out said that she was a psycho bitch
that made breaking up me and Jacob her favorite hobby. I figured I
deserved a pass for that alone.

She twisted her mouth into a scowl,
still trying to connect the dots. "But why would you two..." The
scowl rounded into an O. "A boy. It's always a boy."

"Hey!" I said, feeling a little
defensive. He was mine first came to mind even though that wasn't
exactly true. He didn't care about her the way he cared about me,
but he still used the words. Words that made an already unstable
chick skitter over the edge.

I steered the convo away from
romance. "We're gonna get a handle on it. I'll take care of it,
okay?"

I should have known it was too late
for that. I’d already given her a taste of the scandal. The genie
was out of the bottle and she had a front row seat to the
drama.

“So what’s her evil plan to steal
Jacob away from you?” she asked excitedly.

I tried to backpedal. “I didn’t mean
it that way. There’s a little tension between the two of us, but
that’s because she and Jacob used to date--”

“Oh my god, Rachel and Jacob used
to be a thing?!”

My face reddened at how dreamily she
said it. Like they were some fairytale come true. Match made in
heaven. Truth was, their story would have been a totally different
one than his and mine. No one would have asked what he saw in her
because anyone with two eyes would be able to see how perfect they
were together. No one would have said that he must ‘really love
her’ or that their future kids were lucky to have his genes in the
mix. They’d say their kids hit the genetic lottery.

Mia waved her hand in front of my
face. “Are you okay?”

I blinked, forcing a smile before
dropping the lie. “Y-yeah.”

The connection we had called my
bluff. Or maybe I was just a horrible actress. “You guys are a
cuter couple.”

“Right,” I said said with a snort.
“She’s gorgeous, he’s gorgeous. It’s like a real-life
movie.”

“And you’re gorgeous. But not just
on the outside, on the inside too.” When I flashed her a weak smile
she added, “Haven’t you been reading the tabloids? I’m selfish and
vapid. I wouldn’t socialize with you if you weren’t at least a
9.”

I chuckled at that, stopping when
the phone on my desk rattled to life. I leaned forward and grabbed
it, hearing Natasha’s surly voice on the other end.

“Jacob’s on the line,” she barked.
“He says it’s important.”

I clicked over, dread returning. “Is
your mom ok?”

“Can you come back to the hospital?
She wants to see you as soon as possible.”

****

I clutched the bouquet of roses as I
stepped onto the elevator, feeling all the apprehension from being
in a hospital multiply considering who I was there to visit. The
doors slid open and the nurse from earlier was waiting near the
desk.

She gave me a bright smile. "It must
mean a lot to know that you're the second person she asked to see.
I wish I had that kind of relationship with my
mother-in-law."

It meant something alright, I just
wasn't sure if it meant something good or something bad.

I kept that to myself. "Is it okay
if I go on back?"

"Of course." Her hand dipped below
the desk and the secure doors swung open. "Room I-950."

I started down the sterile hall,
each step hollow. The corridor seemed too quiet for an intensive
care unit. I'd been expecting noise: nurses rushing into rooms with
defibrillators, wails of pain and agony, the buzz of all the
machines used to keep those bad off with one foot in the world of
the living. Instead, it was eerily silent. Like walking through a
graveyard.

I hitched a breath when a door
thirty feet away flew open like a thunderclap, the familiar,
sleekly muscled frame of Jacob stepping into the hall.

I opened my mouth but left the
greeting unsaid when I saw his head was bowed. On the phone.
Probably business.

Whatever it was must be serious
because his demeanor was terse and unyielding. I approached him
slowly, frowning as his words reverberated through the
quiet.

"I swear to god if you call this
number again--"

My flats squealed on the linoleum
and he whirled to face me, instantly going from rage to something
softer. Eyes still on me he ended the call and started in my
direction.

"Who was that? Everything
okay?"

The nerve beneath his eye flickered
before he wrapped me in a warm embrace. "It is now."

He was definitely avoiding my first
question, but his ill mother was in the room a few feet away. I'd
give him a pass for now. Besides, the longer those arms were around
me, the more everything else dimmed. Work, worry, everything except
his scent, his body didn't matter. I held onto him for dear
life.

His hold slackened but I kept my
cheek against his chest. "She wants to see me."

"Yes." My arms tightened, but he
broke the connection long enough to take the sides of my face in
his hands. He caressed me with his gaze. "I don't know if it was
the close call with death or what, but she'll be on her best
behavior."

Yeah...best behavior for Alicia
Whitmore or the average person?

I gripped his hand. "You'll be
there?"

He nodded, an understanding smile
curving his lips. "Ready?"

He wisely didn't wait for verbal
confirmation or we might've never gone through the door.

We stepped inside. The room was as
regal as I remembered Mia's being. Lush furnishings that reminded
me more of some fancy hotel than a hospital. Alicia wasn't strapped
to the bed though--she may as well have been considering all the
cords snaking around her, binding her in place. And just like Mia,
she was a ghost of her former self. Body frail, all skin and bones
beneath the hospital gown. Her salt and pepper hair was oily and
hung limply around her splotchy face. With her eyes closed I got
this sick image of her laid in a casket.

I gasped when her eyes flew
open.

Thunder flashed in the gray as she
took me in. "I don't look that terrible, do I?"

"No," I squeaked.

She gave me a signature look full of
attitude. "You're a horrible liar. I guess that's a good thing
though." She winced as she grabbed the remote and brought herself
to a seated position. "Come closer. I'm not contagious."

I was ready to tug Jacob along for
the ride, but I remembered the last thing I wanted was for her to
see me weak and unable to stand on my own.

He's right over there
, I told
myself, releasing his hand. And it wasn't like Alicia was gonna
attack me, she had IV lines coming out all over the place.
Truthfully, I was more worried about the blows she'd dole out with
her words. The scars invisible to the naked eye, but inside, bright
and purpled. Memories of that letter I'd found months ago, when she
seemed so excited to meet me. And then our first interaction when
she offered me a blank check to go away. Every run in after
compounded until we hit the apology. It would take more than 'I'm
sorry' to rebuild the bridge between us. And the last thing I
wanted was for her to see just how much she affected me.

I walked to her bedside, chin up,
posture perfect, eyes cool and unaffected. "Jacob said you wanted
to see me?"

She cleared her throat and reached
for a styrofoam cup. The clink of ice echoed as she tilted a few
cubes in her mouth before responding. "Jacob, can you give us a
moment?"

His gaze shifted from her to me,
silently asking me if I was okay. I gave him a slight
nod.

"I'll be right outside."

We watched him go, door clicking
shut behind him. She put the styrofoam cup back on the
table.

"I know you don't like
me."

So we were jumping right in.
"Alicia--"

"Don't bother denying
it."

"Oh I wasn't gonna deny it," I said
simply. "I haven't liked you since you tried to bribe me to get me
away from your son."

She licked her lips. "Fair enough. I
know the things I did to you, to Jacob, are enough to damn me. And
what I'm about to share with you is cliché, but it's the
truth."