The Billionaire’s Heart (His Submissive #4)(2)
Author: Ava Claire

She had me right where she wanted me. Of course I’d play nice when she had my back against the wall. "No."

"Good." She pulled off her ball cap, brown locks spilling from its confines. Anyone else would have had a bad case of hat hair, but Rachel’s looked professionally tousled. Still she toyed with it, trying to get it to fall even more perfectly.

"From the ‘holy shit’ that was written all over your face,” she said after a moment, “I take it you signed his little contract and agreed to be his sex slave?"

"Sex slave?" I said indignantly, red flushing my cheeks. "I’m no one’s sex slave."

"Sex slave, submissive." She shrugged. "Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. When you were together, it was all because you signed the dotted line, right?"

My mind shot back to Jacob’s hands on me. He played my body like an instrument, making it sing in ways I never knew were possible. To an outsider, maybe the idea of submission was so black and white. Hell, at first, even I was leery.

But that was before Jacob opened my eyes. It was more than domination and control. It was spiritual. Giving him my body, my soul, my heart–nothing had ever been so simple. So right.

She reached in her back pocket and pulled out a small tube of lip gloss and popped the lid. She smoothed the applicator over her lips then rubbed them together for what felt like an eternity.

"So this is what’s going to happen." She pushed the tube back in her pocket and faced me, perching on the edge of the sink. "Jacob is gonna take you to lunch. Or dinner." She shook her head, rethinking it. "Nah, lunch. I can tell from your shade of pale that you won’t be able to sit on this until dinner time."

I watched her gather her ebony hair into a low bun and tuck it back into her ball cap just as an elderly woman with two kids shuffled in the bathroom.

"After ordering, you’re going to excuse yourself,” she continued, not even noticing them. “And that’s all you have to do to keep your…” She scrunched her forehead, trying to find the right word. “boss from losing every ounce of respect he’s built since he strutted out of business school."

The older woman was chatting with the little girl not in the stall. Even though I had a feeling our conversation didn’t even make their radar, I leaned in toward Rachel, trying to be as confidential as possible. Being so close that I could smell the sugary notes of her perfume made my stomach lurch. The desire to do her harm raced through my mind

"I don’t think you cared about him at all.” I stared at her intently, waiting for the blow to land. “Not if you want to ruin him like this.”

Her mouth opened and closed and for a second, she faltered.

"We can figure this out without involving anyone else," I said quickly, latching onto the moment of weakness. We both cared about Jacob and as jilted as she felt, there was obviously a part of her that didn’t want to hurt him. Why else was guilt burning in her eyes?

She cleared her throat and turned her back to me. I held my breath, waiting for her to say it was all a mistake. But when she twisted back around, the look she aimed at me punched all the air from my lungs. The moment, and any chance I had, was gone.

I watched helplessly as she stepped around me and gave her reflection in the mirror one final look. "We are going to figure this out. Or else." She paused at the door. "Text me the restaurant you guys decide on.” She blew me a kiss before pushing back into the lobby.

****

The feel of Jacob’s hand as he led me to our table should have had me floating on cloud nine. Instead, guilt anchored me to the ground. His hold was a stark reminder that I’d been lying to him all day.

As soon as we met back up at the museum, he knew something was wrong. He pressed and prodded, not letting up until I forced a kiss that made me feel like even a bigger traitor. He’d spent the rest of the morning telling me how beautiful I was, how happy just spending the day with me made him. I’d given him Oscar worthy smiles and even another kiss or two that sent waves of lust rushing over me. But not even his lips could monsoon the shame that was slowly eating me whole. Every minute fed the swell of regret that had taken up residence in my chest.

Jacob’s eyes brightened as we came to a stop at a table that overlooked the canal. “What do you think?”

“It’s nice,” I offered, plopping down unceremoniously.

“Just ‘nice’?” His voice was tight with disappointment. “I was hoping for something a little more descriptive than ‘nice’.”

“It’s great!” I said, feigning cheerfulness. He didn’t seem to buy it, but he lowered himself into his seat with a small nod anyway.

Once the waiter had poured our glasses of wine and ducked away, I knew that Jacob wasn’t going to let up. I felt his gaze piercing me, trying to decipher the hidden truth. I looked everywhere but in his direction. Glanced out the window. Looked at the other patrons in the restaurant. Stared at the dark liquid in my wine glass.

“This is one of my favorite restaurants in the city.” His admission should have been a prologue to a story about some past experience, but instead, there was something sour running beneath the words.

“It’s quite lovely.” I glanced up at him and thought better of it, dropping my eyes back to the menu. My hands were trembling so hard that I could barely make out any of the dishes. “What do you recommend?”

"Is something wrong, Leila?” he asked, ignoring my question. “You’ve been quiet since we left the museum."

I shook my head and gave him a smile that I hoped was reassuring and didn’t just magnify my weird behavior. "Everything’s p-perfectly fine." God, that wasn’t remotely convincing. "Really."

He reached out and took the menu from me. Smart move—now I had to look at him if I didn’t want to make it obvious that something was up.

This whole time I’d been trying to figure him out. To find something deeper. My stomach clenched with remorse because there was no mistaking the creased worry around his eyes, the curious cut of his jaw, lips knitted in confusion—I finally got my wish. Jacob was an open book. And he was concerned about me.

I wanted nothing more than to take his hand and tell him everything Rachel said. To watch him become the stone cold gladiator, take care of it all, then sweep me back to the special room and show me more parts of desire still undiscovered.

We are going to figure this out—or else.

"Is this about taking that call?" he said, not dropping it.