The Billionaire’s Past (His Submissive #10)(6)
Author: Ava Claire

“So what are you trying to say?” I could feel my voice rising along with my temperature. “You’d drop Mia because of what she did?”

“If she proved to be more trouble than she was worth, absolutely.”

Before I even knew what I was doing the napkin covering my food was a white ball sailing toward Jacob’s head.

He swatted it away effortlessly. “Thank goodness there’s no scissors handy.”

“That’s not funny,” I snapped, feeling the indignation flare in my cheeks. So maybe he was listening, but now I was the one wishing there was a mute button. Or maybe rewind…back to before my fiancé said the jackassiest thing I’d heard in a while.

“You don’t mean what you said.” I released my grip on the anger that was choking me and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself before I said it again. “You didn’t mean that.”

I knew Jacob. And when Natasha blurted out that Mia OD’d, something flashed across his face. I’d been sure it was sadness but now that he was acting like he hadn’t just said we might toss Mia overboard, I wasn’t so sure.

“I don’t see what the issue is, Leila. If the Rachel Laraby situation has taught us anything–”

I gripped the edge of the table, feeling my anger rush back with a vengeance. “I know you’re not going to compare a sick, sad girl to a grown ass woman who isn’t happy unless we’re miserable.”

His blue eyes flashed. “I wasn’t, actually. If you’re done, I can finish.”

I did a flourish with my hand. “By all means.”

His jaw tightened. Even mad as hell the flare of anger in me was met by one of lust. That look–stern, powerful, in charge–it was one he wore well. Jacob owned that look…and it turned my insides into goo. But I could tell he wasn’t about to throw me over his shoulder and discipline me.

Not yet anyway.

“What I was trying to say is that we can’t get too close to our clients. It clouds our judgment.”

I flipped a mess of brown curls over my shoulder haughtily. “How interesting. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure you told me that my ability to connect and empathize with Mia Kent made me uniquely qualified to work on her case.”

“Don’t do that,” he said brusquely, throwing his own napkin over his plate. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not trying to patronize you, Jacob.” I leaned forward, reaching for his hand. “You’re stressed out because of work, right? That’s why you’re talking crazy?”

“No, crazy is what Mia Kent is.” He snatched his hand away, face storming with fury. Not anger, not annoyance. No–this was something he’d been holding onto. Something that had been eating at him.

I fell back in my chair, not sure what to do with that statement. It was more than inappropriate. It was downright cruel.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. His words took me back to the hospital. I could still see Mia’s eyes. Wide. Piercing. But her hands shook beneath her restraints. She was terrified.

I’d never attempted suicide, but I knew what it was like to be tired of your life. Going to school day after day and dealing with girls that picked me apart–my weight, my hair, hell, my very existence. Feeling like my mother didn’t understand. Couldn’t really because her idea of making me feel better was reciting the old ‘stick and stones’ mantra. I wouldn’t wish that loneliness on anybody. And it wasn’t something to joke about or trivialize by calling Mia crazy.

He dropped his gaze to the tablecloth then closed his eyes like he couldn’t believe he’d gone there either.

“I’m sorry.”

It was a start. When he looked at me, I saw the words plain as day and the remorse was real. I gave him a small nod, but I wasn’t gonna just let it go.

“Why would you even say that, Jacob? That’s not like you.” It was the Jacob Whitmore people expected. Coldly handsome. Flippant. Obnoxious. He’s freaking gorgeous so somehow, it works. But that wasn’t the real Jacob. Sure, the domineering, air going out when he came in the room thing was incredibly sexy, but I knew that he was kind. And generous. So this was something else.

He picked up his glass and threw it back.

“It’s just been a long day," he said after polishing off the rest of the wine. "I know what I said was out of line and I apologize.”

He picked up his napkin and dabbed at his mouth. When he discarded it, I saw the familiar hunger in his gaze. “Let’s go to bed.”

There was a part of me that wanted nothing more than to have loud, kinky, after-argument sex with him, but there was a bigger part that knew something else was going on here.

I didn’t budge. “What’s going on, Jacob?”

One side of his mouth curved deliciously upward. “I’m gonna take you to bed, love. Tie you to it maybe.”

That wasn’t even fair. A need of my own was building and I blurted out my concern before it won. “We need to talk about what you said. Something is going on with you.”

The smile evaporated. “You’re not gonna drop this, are you?”

I shook my head slowly. “We’re partners, remember? We have to talk about things. The hard stuff, the uncomfortable stuff. Not just the things that come easy.”

He gave me a guarded look. Even though I felt like I knew him so well, there were still moments when I felt like he was good at hiding his emotions.

Too good.

He could tell me I was imagining things. That it was all in my head. And I had no proof otherwise. What would I do if he started hammering home the ‘so tired’ excuse? I couldn’t make him tell me.

But I had hope. That we’d been through enough that he knew he could tell me anything, no matter how horrible or difficult and we’d work through it together.

He pulled his tie loose and ran a hand through his dark hair before letting out a sigh. “I hate that I’m letting it affect me. I wish I could just turn it off.”

“Turn what off?”

“My mother.”

Oh god. If Alicia Whitmore was involved, I knew it was horrible. I reached for his hand again and this time, he didn’t pull away.

“You know most of the story. How my father was barely around. And when he was, he was always distracted.

My mother tried a variety of things." He counted them out on his fingers. “Redecorating the house. Hiring a master chef to cook his favorite meals. Taking cooking lessons. Changing her hair. Changing her clothes. Shooing me out of the house for….” Jacob trailed off with a shudder.