The Billionaire’s Wife (The Billionaire’s Wife #1)(10)
Author: Ava Claire

"You can stop right there."

I froze on the Persian rug, barely two feet inside the door. "What?"

She pointed at a room off to the side the entrance. "From your call, I didn’t guess you were coming over for the tour. Let’s just get this over with."

Well then.

I bit my tongue and followed her into the room. She gestured at a Victorian chair and I sat down, surprised it was comfortable. Everything in this place seemed too beautiful to be enjoyed. Its purpose was perfection. To invoke envy and awe.

She cleared her throat and gestured at the darkness behind me. I hitched a breath as a small, pudgy man with nervous eyes shuffled out and offered me a bottle of water.

I thanked him and he nodded in acknowledgment. In her own, Alicia way, she was being a good host. That alone was leaps and bounds in the right direction since I was pretty sure there were moments she wouldn’t have offered me a glass of water in Hell.

She situated her petite body in a chair across from mine, the throne-like design not lost on me. Her salt and pepper hair hung longer than I’d ever seen it, the waves and slight curls softening her usual sharpness. Her eyes still sliced in my direction like a razor’s blade, not allowing me to forget that this wasn’t a social call.

I gingerly sipped my water, my throat stinging as I swallowed. I placed the Evian back on the table, and gasped as the butler sprang from the shadows, armed with a cylindrical device. He deposited the bottle into the container, then stepped back out of sight.

"Bottle service?" I said incredulously.

Alicia crossed her legs, reclining with a sigh. "You married money, dear. Certainly such things should come as no surprise to you?"

I wanted to tell her that money or not, I was capable of putting my bottle of water on a coaster, and I didn’t treat people like pieces of furniture, but things were awkward enough. "Thank you for seeing me." I folded my hands in my lap. "I’m just going to get straight to the point. I overheard a part of your conversation with Jacob the other day." I watched her for some indication of surprise. Or worry. I found neither.

She shrugged a shoulder. "And? I talk to my son a fair amount, what is this regarding?"

"The conversation seemed…heated," I continued, not letting her see how nervous this made me. The only defense I had against her was that I didn’t let it show that she intimidated me. Even after all this time, and all the cruel things she’d said about my relationship with Jacob, and the things she’d done to her own son, I wanted us to at least be cordial. From the permanent scowl she’d had on her face since I walked through the door, we still had a ways to go.

Regardless of the bad blood, I still waited, hoped that she would give me a kernel of the truth. I’d even take a ‘it’s none of your business’. But she just sat there, eyebrows arched damn near to the vaulted ceilings, waiting for me to get to the point.

I gritted my teeth and let out a frustrated sigh. "Jacob said something about no secrets, then claimed that whatever secret you two are sharing changes everything." My voice got away from me, rising, matching the level of Jacob’s tirade that day. It didn’t help that she was sitting there, acting like we weren’t even speaking the same language. "None of this is jogging your memory? Is there some sort of amnesia bug going around?"

She snorted, clasping her hand to her chest like I’d just uttered something absurd. Only Alicia Whitmore could turn a snort into a slap across the face. "Leila, if you came over here to discuss a conversation you overheard while you were snooping around-"

"I wasn’t snooping," I hissed, the blush in my cheeks proving otherwise. I snatched my bottle of water from the chrome holder, chugging it until there was none left and the rage in my veins dulled to a simmer. I put the bottle down and shook my head fiercely as the butler leaped to action. "What’s your name?"

His navy blue eyes registered surprise, then shot over to Alicia. She must have nodded because he answered, his voice low and unsure. "Miles. Miles Randall."

"Thank you, Miles, but I can throw my own bottle away. Just because someone can afford to be lazy and treat people like they’re nameless cogs in a machine built only to satisfy their every whim doesn’t mean it’s right. You’re valid, and so am I."

"Good lord," Alicia huffed. "Get down off your soap box. The conversation was nothing. If you’re so concerned, why haven’t you discussed it with your husband?"

"You think I haven’t tried that?" I fired back, lurching to my feet. I couldn’t sit here, breathe the same toxic air as her for one more second. "You think I didn’t try everything under the sun before I came to you? I knew you’d treat me like I was worthless. Probably get in a handful of insults before I even walked through the door. I knew that I’d leave here disappointed."

"Then why did you come here?" she snapped, showing the first sign of anything other than ambivalence. She reined it in as quickly as she unleashed it, sniffing and rolling her shoulders back. Head high. "Why set yourself up for disappointment? It’s not very bright, dear."

This time I was the one that stared. Eyes boring into the bitter woman in front of me. I knew her past; how in love with her late husband, Carlton Whitmore, she was. How his repeated infidelities ate away at her heart until her son was left with the mangled remains.

"You’re telling me that if you knew your husband was keeping a secret, carrying the weight of something heavy and shutting you out, you wouldn’t do everything within your power to fix it?"

The smug tilt of her head faltered and she blinked rapidly, caught off guard. The vulnerability I’d hoped for was in the way her lips parted, speechless, and the slight tremble of her chin. Had I finally reached her? Could she relate to the helplessness I felt? The frustration? The anger?

And then the iron curtain fell back into place. She looked right through me, tapping the stem of her glass. Miles moved at the speed of light, filling her glass to the brim. She swirled it, brought it to the tip of her aristocratic nose and inhaled deep before she kissed the rim.

After a deep, hearty sip, she gently lowered it back to the table, flicking her perfectly manicured fingers through her hair. "Just because you share my last name doesn’t mean we have anything in common. I owe you no explanation." Her eyes darkened, nearly black with animosity. "I owe you nothing at all." Before I could reason with her she dismissed me altogether. "I believe Mrs. Whitmore has worn out her welcome. Please see to it that she’s shown the door, and encouraged to not let it hit her in the ass on the way out."