The Billionaire’s Promise (His Submissive #8)(11)
Author: Ava Claire

“Tiki torches,” Megan continued, recounting my beach fantasy. “A crapton of them, lining the aisle. And the rose petals would decorate the runner and flutter across her massive train–”

“A train?” Jacob said with a look of surprise. “I wouldn’t have guessed Leila was a train kind of bride.”

“That’s because I’m not!” I said, my cheeks red-hot with embarrassment.

“News to me,” Megan said playfully, not letting up. “I seemed to remember that was on your must list. Along with a peony tiara and a full veil made of French silk tulle. And no ‘Here comes The Bride’ for Lay,” she added, shaking her head firmly. “She wants a ukulele to pluck out Etta James.”

I’ve never been so happy to see a waiter in all my life. We ordered a round of drinks and a sampler appetizer, giving me a small reprieve from the walk down Memory Lane.

“So how’s school been so far this week?” I asked as soon as the waiter turned on his heel and headed to put in our order.

Megan threw me a bone, smiling briefly before she followed the detour of the conversation. “School’s great. I got to dust off my Schoolhouse Rock videos and the kids love them.”

Jacob opened his mouth just as lights from the cameras erupted around us. Even though he’d been smiling and joking with Megan, I could tell he was getting agitated. The restaurants he was accustomed to valued their customer’s privacy and had policies in place to keep the paparazzi and would-be photographers at bay. When the chatter hit a fever pitch, the camera flashes like strobe lights, he whipped his head to the left.

“You gotta be shitting me.”

Me and Megan turned too, surprised by his outburst. While there were some patrons looking in our direction, most of the cameras were trained on the entrance. Rachel was standing at the front, posing for a picture with the hostess. When the camera flashed, she scanned the room, stopping when she saw us, painting on a big smile and waving.

She absolutely, positively wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

“Please tell me that isn’t who I think it is,” Megan said slowly.

I couldn’t even respond. Not that I needed to. We all knew exactly who it was and why she was gracing us with her presence.

She walked through the restaurant, her fire engine red dress dancing like flames around her. She smiled and waved like she was on a parade float. Center of attention. All eyes on the Queen.

When she stepped up to our table, bright eyed and bushy tailed, Jacob didn’t bother with niceties.

“You need to leave, Rachel.”

Her glittering facade didn’t even dim. “Leave? But I just got here.”

Completely ignoring the awkward silence, our waiter hustled over, bringing Rachel a chair with cartoon hearts in his eyes. “If you need anything, anything at all…”

“Gracias,” she drawled, giving him a wink that almost made him faint on the spot.

Rachel picked up a menu from the middle of the table, gingerly tipping it open. “I hope it’s okay that I joined you–”

“I think you know damn well it’s not okay,” Jacob seethed. “Walk away, Rachel.”

She flipped her hair, giving him a lusty look that made me want to punch her in the face. “Jakey, we probably shouldn’t air our dirty laundry right now. Not with all these people around to recount every detail to god knows who.”

I hated to admit it, but she was right. As much as I wanted to drag her out by her hair, it wouldn’t do Whitmore and Creighton any favors.

I found his eyes and mouthed ‘we can do this’. He didn’t seem a hundred percent sure of that, but he did relax slightly. But seeing Rachel sitting there, all but whistling with glee that she’d ruined our dinner, I had to draw a breath and take my own advice.

Megan and I made eye contact and I opened my mouth to say something but decided against it, not wanting another argument. I was so damn tired of expending energy in the Rachel Laraby department.

Megan had no problem picking up the slack.

“Just who do you think you are?” she said, twisting her mouth in disgust.

“I’m Rachel,” she answered simply. She closed the menu and peered at my friend. “I don’t think we’ve met.” She leaned out and fingered two strands of Megan’s hair. “Your hair is gorgeous.”

Megan wasn’t wooed, sweeping her hair to the other shoulder and out of Rachel’s grasp. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we don’t want you here. Why don’t you stop embarrassing yourself and go away?”

“Embarrassing myself?” Rachel snorted.

“That’s right. You and Jacob were together. Now you’re not. Get over it.”

“Straight to the point.” Her smile widened like she was impressed. “Like our Leila here, with a bit more bite.” She tilted her chin in Jacob’s direction. “New assistant? I know Jacob Whitmore couldn’t possibly marry his secretary.  Or is Leila trying to spice things up?” She gave him a conspiratorial smile. “Between me and you, I always got a very…colorful vibe from her. Caught her checking me out more than once.” She let out an airy chuckle. “But honestly, look at me. Who wouldn’t?”

Megan fell back against the booth, her eyebrows arched in disbelief. “I thought Leila was exaggerating, but you are one crazy bitch.”

I could see the table a few feet away was staring and a couple of the diners mouthed the word ‘bitch’. I needed to keep this under control or we’d all end up in the gossip column.

I cleared my throat. “She’s my best friend, Rachel. Megan.”

Megan shot me a venomous look and I tried to send one right back that said, ‘not here’.”

“Aww best friends,” Rachel cooed, looking back and forth at us like we were six years old. “That is so adorable.”

“What are you doing here?” Jacob bit off impatiently.

“I was doing a little shopping down on 55th when my assistant told me that he had a juicy tip. Apparently Jacob Whitmore was at some taco place on 30th.”

And she dropped everything to come and stir up drama? Lucky us.

“I was in the mood for something festive, so I decided I’d surprise yall.”

“How thoughtful,” I said through clenched teeth.

“That’s what I thought,” she winked. “I’m just hoping it was a pleasant surprise.”

About as pleasant as a mouth full of nails.