The Billionaire’s Secret (His Submissive #6)(8)
Author: Ava Claire

I quickly ran through the itinerary and a list of contacts just in case they needed any assistance outside of the staff provided by the studio then hung up. Ending the call didn’t bring me an ounce of relief. I’d been doing so well all morning, efficient and earning my keep, but I was undone by his jab. A low cut V-neck top? Really?

I could understand that a guy like Cade Wallace didn’t take rejection well. ‘No’ just wasn’t a word that a walking, talking Adonis heard very often. But I thought he was different–that even though he had the looks, the fame, he wasn’t just a jock with a Hollywood star.

Two knocks sounded at the door and I drew a steadying breath before swiveling back to the front, expecting to see Natasha holding even more papers for me to file, but instead, it was Jacob standing in the doorway.

God, that man could wear a two piece suit. Every Armani clad inch of him screamed style and power. His dark hair was shorter than the last time we were together, tapered and cut to bring out the sharp attractive lines of his face. His bright, blue eyes flickered over my face, drinking in my surprise.

“Expecting someone else?”

I was flustered, pulling down my pencil skirt as I popped up. “I definitely wasn’t expecting you.”

His gaze deepened and I could have sworn we were transported in time, to a period with sprawling castles, trumpets and great iron thrones. He commanded me with one single look and I found myself stripped and exposed, wanting nothing more than to drop to my knees at his feet.

I kept my distance, still not 100% sure that I could handle being close to him and keeping my hands to myself. “I called you a couple of times.”

One dark eyebrow vaulted. “A couple?”

“Fine, I’m crazy. Is that what you want me to say? I’m wrong? I’m completely out of my mind?”

“Completely out of your mind works for me.” He moved toward me with predatory-like grace. Close enough that I could reach out and touch him, but far enough away that I ached for him. He freed my bangs from behind my ear, spilling dark curls into my eyes before sweeping it back with his fingertips. His touch was like a kiss and I closed my eyes, savoring it. “I want you to say you’re completely out of your mind without me.”

There was longing in his words and I searched his face, not believing that I had that effect. Not when he didn’t even mind not speaking to me for two days.

His light caresses sent a ripple of desire through me. I needed him to tell me all was forgiven, that I would never feel that throbbing loneliness again. But I would say what he wanted, even though I thought a million texts and voicemails said it pretty plainly.

“I’m completely out of my mind without you,” I murmured.

I’d imagined what our kiss after the argument would play out. I expected some healthy manhandling as he crushed my body into his, reminding me who was in charge. Who had the power.

It would have been a good thing that my desk was clear, the space just the right dimensions for my body as his hurt, his frustration, melted away along with our clothes. He’d have his way and in his arms, I’d have the thing I prayed for when I fell into a restless sleep. I’d have Jacob and everything would be as it was supposed to be.

But when he brought me in, his hesitant touch didn’t deepen as our lips met. The kiss had no time to grow into something more because when I brought my hands to his waist, he yanked away from me like I shot him with a volt of electricity.

He brushed his fingers across his lips, like he was wiping away my taste. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

“What?” He couldn’t be leaving. Not after that lackluster kiss. But I couldn’t deny what I saw with my own two eyes—and he was practically out the door. “Jacob!”

He stopped, turning slightly. Giving me a spark of hope before he snuffed it out.

“I can’t do this, Leila.”

I couldn’t breathe. He’d just yanked all the air from my lungs. “Do what?” My gut tightened. “Us?”

I knew I should have let him go, but space was obviously not helping anything. The kiss we’d shared was barely G-rated. It wasn’t one you shared with someone you loved, someone you wanted with every fiber of your being. It was the kiss of death–or the walking dead. It was the half-hearted obligatory kiss of a couple too lazy or afraid to admit things were over.

Were we over?

I wasn’t sure how that question was impossible to say out loud, but the next flowed from my lips with my next haggard breath. “Do you still love me, Jacob?”

He spun back to me, his face a storm of emotions. There was a key one that made my chest tighten.

Fury.

“Did you really just ask me if I loved you?”

I reached out, ignoring my racing heartbeat. Ignoring the fear that I’d just stepped on a land mine. “If we could just–”

“Don’t touch me,” he snarled, looking at my outstretched hand like it was the most appalling thing he’d ever seen. “Do I love you? Do I love you? You have that wrong–do you love me, Leila?”

I took a step back as I felt the hurt funneling from him. “Of course I love you!”

“Ah I see.” His voice was calm, the volume lowered, but I saw his corded neck and the way his body trembled with suppressed rage. “So this whole Cade situation…you told me after the fact because you were trying to protect me. Like you ‘protected’ me in Venice?”

I took a step backward. He was pulling out Rachel Laraby? That was low. “I apologized for that, Jacob. And I tried to apologize for not telling you about Cade.”

“You don’t get it,” he spat. “You don’t understand what it meant for me to let you in.” He took a few steps from me, looking at me like I was a stranger. “I thought we were…I was going to…” He threw up his hands.

I was sinking fast, grasping for anything to keep me from drowning. “Of course I get it. But you have to understand that–”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he interjected angrily. “Everything is on your terms, Leila. I’m not included. I’m a child that needs to be eased into things, only told what you think I can handle. It’s bullshit and I’m be damned if I let you–” His voice cracked, chest heaving his eyes flashing with a pain that broke me.

What had I done?

He turned on his heels, leaving the room without another word. I hated myself for hurting him.

I hated myself for letting him go.