The Billionaire’s Heart (His Submissive #4)(13)
Author: Ava Claire

So I did something really inappropriate. I busted out laughing.

Not just a hearty chuckle, mind you. I’m talking bent at the waist, hands at my side guffaws.

"I’m sorry," I said, gasping for air. "It’s just…I win? Are you for real?" I swiped at the tears pouring down my cheeks. "You do realize that you were playing with people’s lives right? When you tried to put my ass all over the blogosphere? When you threatened to go public with the contracts? And then with the whole suicide thing?"

The look she gave me was the equivalent of a shrug. I should have tackled her, but I just laughed even harder.

"I don’t understand what’s so hilarious." She snubbed out her cigarette and rose to her feet. "I’m being serious. I’m conceding. You can go live happily ever after."

I took a couple of breaths as the laughter tapered off. The silence was sobering. I wanted to think it was the alcohol that kept her from grasping the gravity of the situation, but that would make me as crazy as she clearly was. The unfortunate truth was that I was locked in a bedroom with a child.

"Thank you for yet another chapter in the dramatic book of your life, Rachel." I turned to go. “Next time you get the urge to off yourself, call 911 instead of your publicist.”

She practically lunged forward, blocking me from leaving. “Where are you going?”

“Away,” I said. “Now move.”

“Not until you say thank you,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Thank you?” I repeated incredulously.

“That’s right,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “Jacob Whitmore is one helluva catch, even with that silly dominant stuff. I’m doing you a favor by letting you have him.”

I stood there, truly dumbfounded. Where the hell did she get off? “You think that can let me have Jacob? What are we, in elementary school?” She opened her mouth, but I wasn’t done. “He’s not Lisa Frank pencils or a Trapper Keeper. He’s a person, not an object, Rachel. And before you stand in front of my exit for one more second, you should know that I’ve pretty much spent every moment we’re within five feet of each other imagining what it would be like to punch you in the face."

Her eyes did widen, but she remained planted in place. "Before you assault me, maybe I can give you the truth. Why I really asked you here."

I got ready to physically remove her. "Truth and you just don’t mix."

"I’m Rachel Laraby!" she blurted. I felt like she meant it to be some great declaration, but it came out false, even with the queenly glint in her eye. "I’m the object of fantasy. Of envy. And I can’t make the one man that matters love me."

I should have just shoved her out of the way. Seen her confession as part of some greater scheme to further sabotage Jacob and me. But there was my damned conscience again. The same thing that had me locked in a suite with a crazy celebrity instead of eating gelato with Jacob.

I let out a sigh and took a step backward. I scanned her face, trying to find some sign that she was playing me again. I only saw a woman wearing the same despondent look I’d worn when I realized Jacob might not love me.

Rachel abandoned her post and went back to her bed and retrieved her pack of cigarettes. She offered me one and when I declined, she lit one for herself.

"Did he tell you why?” she asked. “Why he ended things with me?"

I nibbled my lip, remembering when he finally opened up about their short lived courtship. "I’m not sure it’s my place…"

"Just tell me," she snapped. When she spied the cool look on my face, she softened. "Please."

I knew my admission could quite possibly make things worse. She gazed at me hopefully, like she was expecting it to be her propensity for drama both on and off screen. "He just…" I glanced back at the door. I could still make a run for it.

She inched to the edge of the bed, eyes narrowed. Like she was ready to pounce. "He just what?"

“He just doesn’t like you,” I blurted. I stopped, surprising myself that it was so easy to say out loud after all. Even cathartic. “He said there was no chemistry. No spark.”

She took me in for a long moment, like she was waiting to see if I was being serious. She let out a ‘heramph’ and slid off the bed, gesturing at the door. “You can go.”

That was it? She’d acted like they were Romeo and Juliet this whole time and she wasn’t throwing a diva tantrum? Something was up. I glanced around for something, anything I could use as a weapon if she snapped and rushed at me.

But she wasn’t giving me crazy eyes. She was standing at the mirror, using a napkin to wipe off her old makeup. She paused mid swipe to glare. Like it was me who was acting bizarre.

“Sweetie,” she said with a chuckle. “Unless you’re going to help me get beautiful for those paparazzi camped out downstairs, you’re free to go.”

I slowly rose to my feet, still watching her for any sign that she would erupt. “I know I should just be grateful that I can finally get the hell out of here, but I don’t get it.”

She gathered her dark hair at the nape of her neck. “Don’t get what?”

“That you were ready to destroy me, to destroy Jacob, just twenty four hours ago and now you’re over it.”

She pointed at her back zipper. “Can you grab that?”

I frowned. “I’d rather not.”

She turned back to me, her face completely scrubbed of makeup. She looked a lot more girl next door instead of glamazon. It brought me a small measure of happiness. “It’s really not rocket science, sweetie. Sometimes people just don’t mesh. And Jacob Whitmore is far from the only fish in the sea, if you know what I mean.” She licked her lips. “I guess I just needed closure.” She turned back to the mirror. “Could you send Mrs. Joy back in?”

Still shaking my head, I walked out of the room. Allegra was standing beside Jacob a few feet away. Jacob rushed to me, the concern lining his features bringing a smile to my face.

Allegra was the first to speak. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“She’s fine,” I said with a sigh. “Absolutely fine.”

“I see.” Jacob brought his lips to my temple and pushed past, clearly about to do something he was going to regret.

I grabbed his arm and brought him back to me. “I just want to get out of here. I think someone owes me gelato.”

“If you think I’m going to let her get away with this-”