Home > The Billionaire's Trust (His Submissive #11)(2)

The Billionaire's Trust (His Submissive #11)(2)
Author: Ava Claire

The three of us women just gawked at Jacob. He had the strong, silent thing down pat five seconds ago and now he was striping away the BS before we even sat down.

He pulled out my chair and waited for me to sit before easing into the seat beside me. His mother still had this gray eyed, deer in headlights thing going. Macy was just as stunned.

“What?” Jacob shrugged. “I do my research as I’m sure you’ve done your own.”

Alicia sat down without a word, polishing off the rest of her wine like she knew we were in for a bumpy ride. But Macy--there was something different when the initial shock faded. Her eyes brightened, her whole demeanor going from professional with a hint of ‘meh’ to downright interested. “You read up on me, huh?”

Jacob took a long swig of his water before answering. “I know as much about you as you know about me. Surface information easily garnered from a google search.”

He said it easily. Coolly if you really knew him and could see past the almost bored way he skimmed the menu. He was Jacob Whitmore, head of Whitmore and Creighton, one of the most prestigious PR firms in the world. Google was for amateurs and we were the big leagues. If he wanted, he could have had a dossier filled with everything from her first kiss to the date and location of her first heartbreak. Research was our thing, knowing every minuscule piece that made a person who they are so we could find a way to make them better. Saying he Googled her proved how little he thought of this whole thing. One word and he’d just given her the ultimate diss.

“I’ve done my research too,” the planner said smoothly. “I know that you’ve had relationships with models, actresses and other personal assistants, but none of them compared to her.” She sat up a little taller. “You weren’t expecting her. In fact, you fought it and kept her at arm’s length.”

I felt the gasp ripple in my throat and pressed my lips together to keep it inside. At arm’s length--she was talking about the contract! Words and phrases and liability--all ways to regulate and control his emotions. To control me. Good thing I didn’t let the gasp go because Macy wasn’t done, turning to face me.

“You loved Jacob the moment you saw him.”

My lips weren’t pressed together anymore because my jaw was on the table. I couldn’t believe that her clear, far-from-soft voice was carrying our conversation to several tables around us and now I was in her sights.

“I’m sure you didn’t know it was love at the time since every woman with a pulse lusts after Jacob Whitmore.” She glanced at him, not missing a bit. “No offense.” She didn’t wait for his reply before returning her attention to me. “But I think you knew there was something different about him. About the two of you together. I know what the media’s calling it, ‘A Real Cinderella Story’ and ‘The Billionaire and His Secretary’.” She dismissed that with a scoff. “It’s unimaginative and cliche and now that I’ve seen you two together, I know there’s nothing cliche about the way you look at each other.”

Jacob and I exchanged a look and for a few seconds, we were the only two people in the room.

“Like that,” she said with a toothy grin that blinded me. “Real. Passion. Sex. Love that leaves you breathless.” She smoothed her hair back away from her face. “I don’t know what other wedding planners would do with your story, but I know that I could take that--” She held her hands out and framed us, “--and make it shine through. I could get people to look past the glitz and glamour and see the thing that’s uniquely you.”

Alicia could barely sit still. “Tell us more about your vision for the ceremony for my son and daughter-in-law. I know you have something amazing in mind.”

Hearing my in-law call me ‘daughter’ for the first time and mean it should have been a moment, but it just made me feel...queasy. She was really laying it on and it made my stomach twist and knot because I still wasn’t sure if this was all real or just a part of a larger plan. I tried to push it aside, at least long enough to hear what Macy had planned for us.

“Nothing gaudy and over the top,” Macy continued. “You’re marrying a billionaire so people are expecting horse drawn carriages and a guest list that stretches as long as the train of your elaborate wedding gown. So I was thinking something small and intimate would be the way to go.”

And just like that, I’d found our wedding planner.

The excitement that colored Alicia’s face a few minutes ago devolved into confusion. “Small and...intimate?”

Macy nodded. “I think that would really capture the essence--”

“We’ll be in touch, Macy.” Alicia sliced in, shutting her down.

I opened my mouth to tell her to wait, but Macy didn’t linger. Alicia offered to pay for her drink, but she whipped out a twenty and dropped it on the table before she strut toward the exit. Another point in her favor. She knew she was good and didn’t have to beg for our business, despite the groom’s net worth.

“Don’t worry,” Alicia said, the borderline scary chipper voice clearing out me and Jacob’s surprise and replacing it with uneasiness. “We’ll find someone that can give you two the wedding you deserve.

I hoped Jacob would speak up and state the obvious--that what she really meant was the dream wedding SHE wanted for us, but he said nothing, reading his menu in silence. I followed suit, but committed Macy Scott’s name to memory.

****

Megan walked in, her eyes gulping up every inch of the apartment. “I don’t think you can call anything occurring in this place a ‘sleepover’. I think that word should be reserved for modest, itty bitty kinda places where mere mortals live. This--” She gestured around us before twisting her long, fiery strands nervously. “This is breathtaking.”

“You act like you haven’t seen it already!” I laughed, holding out my hand for her overnight bag. “It’s just four walls, Meg.”

Her green eyes glimmered as she shook her head in disagreement. “I wondered when this would happen.”

Pangs of worry pricked my arms and the back of my neck when I took in her worried expression. “When what would happen?”

“When you’d be so jaded by all of this that you’re all, ‘It’s no biggie!’.” She leaned in, dropping her volume to a whisper. “Let me let you in on a little secret. This isn’t just four walls. This is like, MTV Cribs before it sucked. This is call up every interior design magazine ever so you can get your brag on.” She gasped and covered her mouth in horror. “This is just step one. The next is upgrading your friend circles to socialites and celebrities.”

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