Home > The Billionaire's Past (His Submissive #10)(13)

The Billionaire's Past (His Submissive #10)(13)
Author: Ava Claire

I raised an eyebrow, guessing she was talking about Mia, but not sure why she would care.

She pulled her shades from the crown of her head, black and gray layers moving to frame her face. “I’m unfamiliar with her work, honestly.”

“That’s not surprising,” I commented, closing folders since this obviously wasn’t gonna be a drive by situation. “You don’t strike me as a fan of teen shows.” Or happiness and joy.

“Hmm,” she mused with a chuckle. “Right. Still, I found myself drawn to the child’s story. Very tragic.”

“Well, the media does a good job of playing it up for ratings.”

“I’m sorry, is suicide not a serious issue?” Her painted lips were a burgundy line of disapproval.

Alicia Whitmore disapproving of anything was a problem for me and I was not gonna be lectured about the seriousness of suicide by her. Not after what Jacob told me.

“You tell me, Alicia. Is suicide a serious issue?”

Her face paled slightly and the grin that curled her lips cut as she recovered. “You and Jacob have been talking I see.”

“That’s right,” I fired back. “Healthy couples talk about things.” My voice was already high and agitated, my emotions on my sleeve. “I suppose you’re unfamiliar with that concept, given your history.” It should have been a zing, plus one to Leila, but it just felt mean. I could see the effect the words had on her despite her best efforts and it made me feel guilty. She’d probably celebrate if I fell off the face of the earth yet she was making me feel like a horrible person. Ugh.

Alicia rolled her shoulders back, shrugging away my comment. “You’re young, Leila. You know nothing of what a healthy relationship really entails. Or how something good can turn rotten.”

“True. But I know I’d never use mental illness as a way to control my husband and child.”

“Fair enough, but how can you know how married life will change you? How the years will change Jacob?”

I hated to admit that Alicia Whitmore got anything right but if I put aside my intense dislike of the woman, I knew she had a point. I did wonder how marriage would change things. I knew he was a good man and that he loved me, but his childhood scarred him. I felt like I was still peeling back layers of the things that shaped him. That haunted him. As much as I wanted to believe our love could conquer all, it couldn’t fix the holes in his heart.

I’d never tell her that.

Ever.

I drummed my nails on the top of my desk. “I’m very busy, Alicia. What is it that you want?”

“Mia Kent--” I let out a groan but she held up a hand. “--Let me finish.” Her face changed, looking almost...human.

I pulled my hands to my lap. I guess I’d let her talk. I was slightly curious where this was going. “Okay.”

“Her story reminds me of myself.” When I ducked my chin down a few inches and gave her the most incredulous look I could muster, she added, “Not that. When I was younger. When Carlton and I first married.

I told you about how in love I was, but I talked like we never had any good times. Like he was always cheating.” She gave me a hint of a smile, lips curling into something that resembled something genuine. “You should have seen us. We turned heads.” She twisted her mouth to the side, her eyes twinkling at some memory of then. “Turned stomachs. We kissed so much our lips were practically glued together. And we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. A year in and people thought we were newlyweds. I couldn’t stop smiling I was so happy.”

Smiling? Happy? Both were words that just didn’t line up with the cold woman I knew.

“The first time he cheated, I was numb. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t happening to me. Sure, he had a reputation, but he broke other woman’s hearts. Not mine. Not his wife.” She brought a finger to her ear and started spinning her pearl earring. “It didn't help that he promised me it wouldn’t happen again. That he loved me. So I shrugged it off as something that happens. The price I had to pay for how great things were 99% of the time.” She stopped fiddling with her earring, her face darkening. “And then he did it again.”

I didn’t want to pity this woman. She’d been awful to me. And as far as Jacob? There were no words to describe my anger at the way she’d treated him. The way she was still trying to control him. But I was human and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

“The second time was different,” she continued, crossing one slender leg over the other. “And it wasn’t the fact that the woman was my best friend. That rolled right off me. That meant nothing. It was the lie that hurt. Feeling like I wasn’t enough. Wondering if this would really be my life--never having him fully. I felt like such an idiot for thinking infidelity was the price of doing business. That I was dumb enough to think that it was just a one-time thing.

I looked myself in the mirror and wondered if it was me. If I wasn’t pretty enough. Sexy enough. Just...enough.” She rose to her feet, unbuttoning the cuff of her sleeve then slowly rolling it back to her elbow.

She held out her arm toward me, the pale skin smooth and luminescent.

I quirked an eyebrow. “What am I looking for exactly?”

“Look closer.”

We were already too close for comfort, but I inched a little closer, squinting. My mouth opened in shock as I made out the delicate lines near the crease where her forearm met her bicep. Tiny silver scars that were nearly faded, making them easy to miss. Now I couldn’t help but see.

I peered up at her in disbelief. “You were a cutter?”

She yanked her sleeve back down like she was embarrassed by the term. “I was just overwhelmed. I couldn’t control him. I couldn’t control the way he made me feel or my inability to leave him. But that...” She buttoned the cuff in a single motion. “I could do that. But each new betrayal and I sliced a little deeper, wanting to drag it along my wrists. Wanting to...” She cleared her throat and gave her head a shake like she was clearing out the images and feelings. When her eyes opened and met mine it was almost like she hadn’t been talking about how she harmed herself. That intricately maintained image was back in place.

“I know that you think I’m a monster, but believe me when I say that Jacob made me happy. When he was a baby and looked up at me with those eyes, his father’s eyes--”

Just the sound of Jacob’s name was enough to remind me what person in this sordid tale deserved my sympathy. “The things you did to the son you claim you love are horrible.”

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