The Billionaire’s Forever (His Submissive #12)(4)
Author: Ava Claire

Mia wasn’t slowing. "I have a plan. You just have to trust me."

I could see the press filtering into the room and my stomach knotted. "The room is going to be packed with reporters, Mia. You’ve gotta give me more than that."

"It’s better if I didn’t. Plausible deniability and all of that."

My eyes bulged as I huffed and puffed. ‘Plausible deniability’? What was she going to do, take her out? "You’re not making me feel better here."

She slowed a little, letting me catch my breath before flashing me a reassuring grin. "It’ll be okay, Leila. Rachel’s a bully–and I know how to handle bullies."

Something in her voice reminded me of the past. The sad girl in the bathroom. The girl that couldn’t believe that it would ever get better. I wanted to hug Mia–but that was quickly replaced with the desire to tackle her when she continued down the hall, catching Monique’s eye.

There’d be no stopping her now.

I took a few more breaths, trying to make the lie Mia said so confidently stick. The lie that this train wasn’t off the rails. That it would all work out. I plastered a smile on my face and forced myself forward, shaking Monique’s hand and following Mia through the door.

Flashes erupted and when I looked past the sparkling lights I saw Rachel was already on stage. She’d pulled her hair back into a low bun and wore a perfectly respectable bone colored sheath dress with blush colored pearls. She gave me a toothy grin and I knew her well enough to know that she was already gloating.

I joined her onstage, shaking her hand for the camera even though I really wanted to wring her neck.

"It’s so lovely to see you." Rachel gestured at the seat beside her. “I saved a seat for you.”

I narrowed my eyes, but held onto my smile for dear life as I lowered myself onto the chair.

Monique strode to the podium, her rich, baritone voice silencing the excited chatter. She cleared her throat and smoothed the front of her crisp suit.

"On behalf of Whitmore and Creighton, I want to thank you all for coming to this question and answer session regarding the organization Reach.

As you all are aware, our client, actress Rachel Laraby, was moved by Mia Kent’s brush with death. She had a novel idea to create an organization that would offer troubled youth the opportunity to be mentored by industry professionals and make positive contacts. We’ve invited them all here to talk more about their organization."

She gave me a nod and butterflies stormed my gut as I rose to my feet. Rachel was all but cackling, but both of us froze when Mia rose to her feet.

The young starlet moved to the podium, flashing the audience a bright smile. "It means so much to me that you all are here to support this great organization." Something told me that she knew that eighty percent of them were hoping for some sort of meltdown. “I know when I first heard about Reach I was stunned. As a young actress, I grew up watching Ms. Laraby’s lovely movies. But mostly, I was honored. Especially when Ms. Laraby opened her home to me."

Rachel gasped and when the attention flitted to her she forced a smile, smoothing over her abrupt reaction.

"I can’t wait to move in and begin the immersive component of Reach–” Mia paused, waiting until everyone was literally waiting with bated breath. “Twenty-four seven mentoring."

I had to bite my lip to stop from bursting into laughter. Beside me, Rachel was fighting the urge to meltdown. Her eyes were practically out of her skull. Her face was red from holding back her true reaction: fury. She was struggling to act like this was all part of the plan. After all, if she didn’t act like she was on board, she would look like a diva.

Mia turned to face Rachel, clutching a hand to her chest with adoration. "The late night rom-com marathons, clubbing, concerts, shopping, script evaluations–I can’t wait to share my life with you, Ms. Laraby. I can already feel the positive impact of the Reach experience…and we’re just getting started." She led the applause then urged the audience to get on their feet.

I joined them, grinning deviously down at Rachel’s shell-shocked face.

Checkmate.

****

What’s the worst that can happen?

That was the thought that flitted through my mind as I tried to give myself a pep talk, four blocks from the restaurant where my mother and Alicia were finally meeting. To talk about the wedding.

Me, my mom, and Alicia. Talking about the wedding of my nightmares.

And you just said the jinx of all jinxes, I thought silently, inner voice wagging its finger disapprovingly. You are so screwed.

I took a deep breath and pushed myself forward. I didn’t believe in jinxes anyway. And after the week I’d had, I had every right to be optimistic.

It started off with Mia’s slap down of Rachel at the conference. To Rachel’s horror (and my delight) it wasn’t some sort of practical joke. To make sure Rachel didn’t just pull of her mask once the cameras stopped rolling, Mia picked a photographer to shadow her throughout the experience to capture every second. I almost felt sorry for Rachel as Mia started talking about sleepovers and ‘braiding each other’s hair’. Monique commented that she hadn’t seen me so happy since Jacob proposed. She seemed so sure it was due to the positive reception Reach got at the question and answer session that I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was because seeing Rachel terrified felt like Christmas morning.

That was Monday. Tuesday brought an actually civil conversation with Natasha, I got something other than glares at Missy’s meeting on Wednesday, and Thursday Jacob surprised me with omelets in bed. I’d been so cloud nine, deliciously optimistic that when my mother suggested a ladies brunch, I’d almost auto-replied yes.

Almost.

I hadn’t been nearly apprehensive enough, but I was making up for it with each step that brought me closer to the Plum Cafe. After meeting Megan there for crepes since we discovered it a month ago, it had become one of my splurge worthy stops in the city. It was extremely pretentious with its blaring white walls and artisan pieces that looked like they’d copy and pasted the showroom at West Elm. One bite of their berry and cheese crepe and all was forgiven.

I’d chosen a striped shirt dress that was light enough that I was cool despite the nearly triple digit weather, but not sheer enough that I’d give everyone a preview of my underwear. It was just the right amount of casual and dressy that I felt comfortable without looking intentionally dressed down. And comfortable was good. Comfortable was exactly what I needed to face lunch with my mother and Alicia.

I pushed my shades up, pinning my dark curls away from my face as I stepped up to the door. The hostess gave me a smile of recognition and I felt the heat rush to my cheeks. That had been happening a lot more lately. Probably because the news got wind of our wedding date and suddenly our nuptials were plastered all over the place. A real Cinderella Story, proof dreams really do come true.