Home > The Billionaire's Lust (His Submissive #7)(12)

The Billionaire's Lust (His Submissive #7)(12)
Author: Ava Claire

“I thought we were talking about you and Jacob. Why are you trying to change the subject?”

“Why are you?” I fired back.

She flipped her hair then glanced out the window, then back to the front, then picked at invisible lint on her dress. Anything except looking me full-on. This guy, whoever he was, had really gotten under her skin.

“We don’t have time for it right now.” When the car slowed to a stop, we both looked out and saw that downtown was officially a parking lot.

“Well would you look at that!” I said, crossing my arms. “Looks like we have plenty of time.”

“You’re really not gonna drop this?”

“Nope.”

She let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. There is no guy. There was a guy, but now there’s just me. I’m over it, I’m fine. End of story.”

“A story generally has a beginning, middle, and end.”

“And I just gave you a synopsis. Spoiler alert—it’s over.”

“Megan, I’m trying to do right by you,” I explained. “You’ve always been there for me. I can already tell I’m gonna have to call my mob connections and have some guy offed. At least tell me why I’m risking life in prison.”

She pursed her lips and I could tell she was holding back laughter. She shifted in her seat, shaking her head. “Leila, the closest thing you have to a mob connection is an addiction to I Married a Mobster on Netflix.”

She glanced out the window, clearly wishing the traffic would magically dissipate and she’d be off the hook. When she realized it wasn’t happening, she gave in.

“The guy is the PE teacher at my school. I’d heard the rumors and was warned about him. And I swear I was strong and shrugged off his compliments and advances. And then he stuck up for one of my kids.

This kid was marked for torture from day one. Half the size of the others, he stutters, uniform is always dirty and wrinkled. I’ve written up every student that’s ever picked on him or even looked at him wrong in my class, but I can’t be everywhere.

One day after recess, he got cornered and I saw him. The teacher who couldn’t take a hint. Mark. He had the culprits collared and sent them on their way. That was enough for me to at least start smiling back when he said hello in the halls. But what he said to that little boy, telling him not to listen to them, that he was just as awesome as the others, twice as awesome even…” She paused, smiling at the memory. “That was enough for me to say yes to coffee.”

I knew how much she cared about her students. She purposefully asked for the low performing ones, the problem kids that other staff had written off as unreachable. She didn’t believe in lost causes; she believed every single child could be reached. Every single one had potential.

Her school wasn’t known for having many educators that would be winning ‘teacher of the year’ awards. The things she’d told me and reported were enough to make any person, parent or not, lose faith in the public school system. It was no surprise that meeting a fellow teacher that took the time to tell a child something that could make a real difference would make her re-think her no dating co-workers rule.

“What happened, Meg?”

“He lived up to his reputation.” She craned her neck then sat back. “We’re almost there.”

The limo driver confirmed it as we pulled down a side street. I had more questions, but I didn’t push it because her attention was solid and unmoving on the street outside. I followed her lead, taking in the concrete jungle, usually lined with throngs of people going about their daily routine. Calewood Street was blocked off and black security gates lined the street, policed by event staff. We joined a procession of limos and luxury cars that inched toward the Bates Theater where the film was being screened. I could already see the larger than life banners with the main characters hanging and waving in the breeze, the most prominent a shot of Cade in dress blues, standing at attention with Soldier’s Creed in big block letters. The red carpet area shone as bright as the echoing flashes of cameras. I couldn’t believe I was about to walk on it, that I was really, truly at my first industry red-carpet event.

Megan gripped my hand, the Mark incident forgotten as her face lit up like the stars in the sky. “You ready?”

I was trembling, terrified down to my very bone and yet I felt like Christmas morning. I was nowhere close to ready, but at the same time, I wanted the line too move quicker.

The driver stopped and the valet attendant pulled open the door and offered me a hand. I stepped out, all sounds blurred, crashing into one another, my heart pounding, screaming in my ears.

Megan was beside me, her hand on my forearm. “Let’s rock this bitch.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her sentence and relaxed as we moved forward, stepping onto the carpet. The fan section was first and we waved even though most were probably more concerned with the real celebrities and stars they were rushing the fence to get pictures with. I scanned the area for Cade, but didn’t see him.

I looped my arm through Megan’s and walked through the press area. I leaned in to tell her something when I heard my name ring out over the clamor.

“Leila! Leila over here!”

I stopped. They couldn’t be asking for me. There had to be some actress that shared my name.

“Leila Montgomery! Can we have a minute?”

I looked at Megan, her lips moving but shock turning her words into white noise. I swallowed, giving my head a slight shake as it sunk in. They were asking for me. They wanted to talk to me.

“Leila,” Megan said, taking my arm and steering me back toward the line of reporters. “Go talk to them!”

“But I-I’m nobody,” I croaked. “I’m just Jacob’s girlfriend.”

“Well you’re the only Leila Montgomery I know of, so clearly you’re somebody.” She took a step back, like she didn’t want to intrude on the picture, but I held tight to her.

“No way am I doing this alone,” I told her, fear making my voice crack.

She smiled. “You’re the boss.”

I walked over in a daze, still expecting them to look past me to someone else, but a reporter in a clingy black number and a smile that took up half her face had her eyes locked on me.

“Leila can I ask you a few questions for CBN’s red carpet recap?” The woman’s teeth were blindingly white and before I could answer, she shoved a microphone in my face. “Who are you wearing tonight?”

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