The Billionaire’s Past (His Submissive #10)(9)
Author: Ava Claire

I didn’t wait for him to say the word to release me. How could I with him so deep, his gaze penetrating me in time with his body?

My core rocked, spasming, cooing as I gripped him and didn’t let go. The warmth spread out over me, pricking my cheeks and I opened my mouth to explain, but he shook his head as he moved inside of me, the pace of his thrusts crashing. Eradicating my apology. Showing me just how hot he found it when I came, wrapped around him.

"This is all that matters, Leila." He leaned over me, lips brushing my ear. "Nothing else matters to me."

Section Five

When I walked into the Kent strategy meeting I expected all bets to be off. The last time Missy Diaz and I attempted to play nice, it lasted all of five minutes. I had a feeling I’d walk into the conference room and she’d give me some sort of acknowledgement, a nod, maybe a smile if she woke up on the right side of the bed and was feeling generous, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

I stepped through the doorway, gripping my expandable folder to my chest, almost like I was holding onto the illusion that she’d give any of the suggestions and ideas inside a listen. Sure, we’d had a moment in a cab where we talked about her sister and put our beef on hold, but that was days ago. It was Monday, Mia had yet to sign her contract, and from the way Missy flipped through the papers in front of her, this was going to be a long meeting.

I was early enough that there were still seats near the front, but I gravitated to my usual seat near the back. Away from the line of fire.

Sia Murrow, one of the staff publicists, gave me a hearty wave. “Hi Leila!”

I had to remind myself to wave and smile back. She was one of my coworkers who generally didn’t acknowledge me at all before. At barely five feet with cropped white blond hair, big, expressive gray eyes and a fitted white dress, she was a bundle of frenetic energy…all of which was unfortunately focused on me.

“Have a good weekend?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and I felt the warmth of embarrassment and a hefty dose of annoyance. Some random chick who spent months looking right through me thought we were close enough to hint at questions about my sex life?

I abandoned my regular seat since it was right beside her and opted for one three seats away. I gave her a tight smile and turned my attention to my folder.

“Leila?” Mia said at the front.

I looked up at the sound of my name, only vaguely aware of the lack of condescension in her voice. "Yes?"

“Can you come up here for a second?”

I was very aware of the eyes locked on me as I slowly rose from my chair. It was barely a ten foot walk to where she was standing at the head of the table but it stretched on forever, horror movie style. The dread I’d been holding down burst free, doing wretched things to my stomach and I was grateful I’d only had time to scarf down a banana and coffee before the meeting. Even though my eyes were locked on Missy, I had a pretty good idea everyone else’s faces were along the lines of ‘Ooo Leila’s in trouble’.

I battled to keep my face from showing just how nervous I was, trying to take a page from the Whitmore Art of the Poker Face.

I stopped a few feet from Missy, giving myself an internal pinch. Cut. It. Out. Missy isn’t the boogeyman. You have a right to be here. Experience. And an established relationship with the client along with a pretty awesome management plan. My input, my presence, was just as valid as anyone else sitting around the table. Missy Diaz didn’t have any power over me unless I gave it to her.

I stood up a little taller, ready to face whatever drama she was about to send my way.

Missy was dressed in all black–blouse, slacks, with stilettos. Her hair was piled into a tight bun on the crown of her head and her brown eyes were intensified by smoky eye shadow. Her blood red lips creased and she gave me a small smile.

“Why don’t you join me up front?”

I must have looked confused. Heck, I was confused. Why did she want me up front? So she didn’t have to aim so far when she threw daggers my way?

She must have seen the question because she explained. "We’re partners and I don’t want to have to yell back and forth all meeting."

Partners.

She gestured behind me. “Is that yours?” She looked at Sia. “Sia bring Leila’s things up front.”

Sia’s glossy lips soured but she snapped to action, grabbing my folder and trudging to the front, the ball of energy fizzling as she looked back and forth between us like she missed the memo where she was my assistant.

She held it out to me, her eyes narrowed to charcoal slits.

“Thanks," I said awkwardly, accepting it.

She gave me a crisp nod and went back the way she came. I had a feeling our faux friendship was pretty much over. And me and Missy? I still wasn’t sure where we stood.

“Mind if I take a look?” Missy asked smoothly.

“S-Sure.”

I gave her the folder and watched as she leafed through the contents. Pulled out folders, scanned papers, nodding slowly as she surveyed the material. She passed it back to me. “There’s some good stuff in here.”

Wow. We were partners and now I was getting a job well done too? I was cautiously optimistic. This was what I wanted. We didn’t have to be besties or even like each other, but we should be able to check that at the door and work together.

The last person filed in and all eyes rested on Missy as she called the meeting to order.

“Good morning,” she began, taking in the room before continuing. “A new week and new developments in the Kent case. As I’m sure you know Mia Kent was rushed to the ER after a suicide attempt.”

Anywhere else, the word suicide would have raised a few brows or been accompanied by whispers. No one even blinked weird. We were in the fixing business and it wasn’t all promoting new movies and setting up TV appearances. Mia’s attempts weren’t Whitmore and Creighton’s first brush with a star who’d had enough and unfortunately, it probably wouldn’t be our last. Still, it was slightly eerie that no one even flinched.

I tried to tell myself it was because the media had been running the story all weekend. Talking to psychiatrists and people who knew and worked with Mia, leaving no stone unturned so the public could be over-informed on every aspect of her life.

“She was released this morning.” Missy turned to me. “Have you spoken with Miss Kent?”

I cleared my throat, feeling the nerves cartwheel in my throat as eyes shifted to me. “We’ve exchanged a few texts since her admittance." From the way Missy’s eyebrow curved she wanted more than that so I added, “She seems to be doing better.”