The Billionaire’s Desire (His Submissive #9)(8)
Author: Ava Claire

Mark leapt at the opportunity, oblivious to why I wanted nothing to do with him but conceding the fact that things were dicey at best.

As soon as Jacob wheeled him to the next room I turned to my amnesiac friend. “What’s going on Meg?”

“What do you…?” She frowned then let out a clipped laugh. “OH. You mean Mark.”

“Yes, I mean Mark,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “Mark that you work with. Mark the Woman Eater. Mark that’s a spitting image of your ex in every douchey way.”

She dropped the act almost instantly. I hated invoking the ex-boyfriend card, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Is this about Cade?” I grilled.

“What?” she snorted. “What does that have to do with Cade?”

“You told me he’s been calling. And you claim you don’t like him.”

“And I don’t,” she reaffirmed brusquely, her fair skin turning redder by the second. “Which is why I’m here with Mark.”

I was confused. “Let me get this straight. You’re seeing your skanky co-worker again to convince yourself that you don’t like Cade?”

She turned on her heels in a huff, proving me right. “Is there alcohol? This is supposed to be a celebration.”

I had half a mind to turn her back around and refuse to go along with this charade. It was bad enough that she vetoed any convo that tipped in Cade’s direction, but bringing Mark here tonight? That was too much.

But when I saw her pick up a bottle of wine and almost gulp it down straight from the source, I realized that maybe she didn’t need me to storm the walls and restore her honor. Maybe right now, she just needed a friend.

I swiped my half-drunk glass of wine from the bar and stepped up beside her. “Let’s make a toast.”

“To what? My idiotic romantic choices?” she quipped.

“No,” I answered, biting back the desire to scream, YES! and shake some sense into her. “To do-overs.”

“Do-overs?”

I nodded slowly. “For the chance to show you how much Jacob meant to me…and not through an article or cluster of pics on some blog. To the chance to have my best friend by my side, reminding me that love meant more than all the other BS. For being here for me today.” My nostril flared as I watched the emotion fill her eyes. “And I hope you know I’m here for you too, Meg.”

She sniffed and clinked her glass against mine. “I’ll drink to that.”

We both swallowed down some booze and I tried to focus on the warmth and not the burning questions in my head. But I saw Jacob and Mark strolling through the rooms and it just made me angry all over again.

She saw my pursed lips and her face hardened. “Not today. Today is about you, Leila.”

I heard the sound of the elevator, meaning the final guests were coming up, so I conceded defeat. For now.

Clarissa breezed over to us, giving Megan a cordial smile before she turned to me. “Everything’s ready to go, Miss Montgomery. Congratulations and have a wonderful evening.”

Megan walked over to the sculpture in the living room, admiring it. Changing the subject. “She did a great job. It’s beautiful in here.”

Nice try. “Megan, I really think we should talk about this.”

“Leila dear!” I could pick my mother’s screech out of a sold out concert over the whoops of delight and guttural riffs. I threw Megan a silent ‘we’re not done here’ and wheeled to face her.

She’d gone all out, wearing a sleeveless fuchsia dress and dangling earrings. Her brown hair was highlighted and she towered over my father in heels. She took a long look at me. “This little black dress is beautiful, sweetheart.”

It was an ebony colored spaghetti strap number that was chic enough to be elegant but the knee length hem kept it casual.

Dad stepped up beside her, adorably holding out an orchid.

I gave him a bright smile. “Thank you so much.” I deposited it on the counter and swiveled back to the living room area, ready to show off the place and the touches added for tonight. I gestured for them to follow, wanting to give them a tour. “Let me show you–”

Mom yanked my left hand toward her face. “I told you Earl! She’s, engaged!” She brought my hand to her eyes, squinting. “Where’s the ring?”

****

I’d been awake for what felt like hours, watching the sun chase the shadows until there was only light. I wasn’t avoiding the day per se, but I was comfortable. I was cuddled up with the next best thing to Jacob, a big, fluffy pillow that smelled like him: fresh, with hints of musk and a smell that was uniquely his. I was perfectly situated, the cotton candy soft covers wrapping me in the world’s most comfortable burrito. And I knew once I threw the covers off I’d have to think. I’d have to remember the horrible night I was pretending I wasn’t avoiding.

Jacob had tried to be covert when he hired the party planner, but I’d seen the invoice. $500/hour plus the less than 24 hour fee of $375 equaled a whole lot of money just so I could relax. Focus on us. Focus on sharing our wonderful news.

Eight hundred and seventy five dollars down the drain because my mother fixated on the fact that I was ring-less. I’d counted six, six times that she found some slightly different way to ask why my ring finger was bare.

Questions like, “Are you still shopping around for a ring?” and “I’m sure Jacob has something special tucked away to give you soon!” and “Is there a big reveal after dinner?” Poor Jacob probably regretted offering the use of his hand as my stress ball when I nearly crushed every single bone after she had the nerve to ask if Whitmore and Creighton was having financial problems. Dad picked upon my nonverbal cues–deadening silence, grinding my teeth, downing three bottles of wine in the span of two hours–and put me out of my misery, claiming that he wasn’t feeling too hot.

And then there was Megan and Mark. I could barely keep my eyes off him. I was sure I caught him winking, savoring that fact. I couldn’t deny that he was attractive. All-American good looks paired with his blond hair and bright baby blues. He was dressed in head to toe Abercrombie and Fitch, reeking prep and holding himself like  a man that had been told he was cute one too many times…and all but ignoring his date like a man who’d broken one too many hearts.

He was so obviously sketchy it was ridiculous. Just what was Megan trying to prove by bringing him to this private function? I’d barely been engaged for 24 hours and I was already feeling Bridezilla coming on, but of the eloping variety. At the moment, I didn’t want to see anyone’s face but Jacob’s.