The Billionaire's Wife (Part Two) Page 3

  Jacob pulled out his chair with an unsettling screech. “Don’t worry. I won’t stab him before the first course.”

  That should have been a sign that he was cooling off, but considering Jacob rarely made jokes, my heart was still in my gut. I pressed the buzzer, trying to make my voice normal and not like my husband was a ticking time bomb. “C-come on up, Cole.”

  I dropped my hand, realizing that there really was no going back now. Realizing that the pressure in my chest must have been twice as heavy for Jacob. Fear, anger, nerves—he was trapped. I thought dinner would be freeing but from the way Jacob gripped the arm of his chair, his body made of stone, I realized that he was a prisoner. And I was the judge, jury, and executioner.

  Before I could utter another apology that he ignored, the elevator announced my betrayal. Jacob didn't move a single muscle but I somehow managed to turn my head and plaster on a smile.

  Cole had swapped the casual attire from work with a navy blue sweater and khakis. His white blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail that made him look worldly. He held a bottle of wine in one hand, a bouquet of red roses in the other, and an expression that said he knew this was a bad idea, but it was too late to turn back now.

  “Cole,” I croaked, my voice breaking. I clutched the pearls around my neck, wondering if Jacob would say something. Anything.

  “Are you okay, Leila?” Cole asked, nearly rushing to my side until Jacob finally had a reaction. He hurled a look in his brother's direction that stopped him dead in his tracks.

  Cole's eyes flashed, but he pulled his lips into a smile. “I came bearing gifts. To thank you two for having me over.” He extended the roses to me and the bottle to Jacob.

  Jacob dismissed the olive branch, reaching for the bottle of wine on the table instead. Cole tensed, but I put a hand on his shoulder, smiling until it hurt. “I've got 'em. Thanks. Why don't you have a seat and after I put these in water, we can start on dinner?”

  He hesitated, then carefully maneuvered to the chair beside Jacob. Once he was seated and the awkward silence filled the room like poison, I dashed to the kitchen to catch my breath and come up with a plan to salvage the evening.

  My heart throttled my ear drums and when I filled the vase with water I was tempted to throw it back. My throat, my body was filled with dread.

  Well, you're here now. There's no turning back. You're in the middle of this, so you might as well make the most of it.

  I placed the vase on the bar, reminding myself that it wasn't all on me...and each one of them had made moves without realizing it. Jacob could have left. Or refused to have Cole in his home. Cole didn't have to bring anything to dinner but himself, and he didn't have to sit next to Jacob, especially when Jacob was doing his best to ignore his existence. We all were just trying to make sense of this thing I forced on us.

  With a little bit of clarity and a spark of hope, I went back into the dining room. Jacob looked straight ahead. Cole glanced up at me with a uncomfortable grin.

  “This, uh, looks amazing!”

  “I wish I could take all the credit,” I winked.

  He turned to Jacob, his eyes widening with surprise. “You helped with all of this?”

  Jacob finally looked at him. “It's kind of difficult to help with something that you're completely unaware of.”

  Cole's eyes shifted between the two of us, then rested on me. I twisted my mouth to one side in my best 'my bad' and prepared myself for an earful.

  He reached for the wine and filled his glass, taking a hearty swallow before he spoke. “How I got here doesn't matter. I'm just glad I'm here.”

  Jacob's eyes flickered to me, then his brother. “No one likes a kiss ass, kid.”

  “Jacob!” I hissed, giving him a pointed look that he completely ignored.

  But Cole was unfazed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I've found that a little charm goes a long way.”

  “Well, you can keep your charm to yourself.”

  I was trying to give Jacob the benefit of the doubt. Cut him some slack because this was all dumped in his lap—his brother, and now this dinner. But it was becoming clear that Jacob had no intention of giving Cole a fair shake. Maybe he did say those things to Cole. The man beside me was so filled with animosity that it made me ache...and it pissed me off. “No one is asking you two to pick up like you're long lost friends. But if you think we're going to have a repeat of your last run in and I'm going to sit here while you talk down-”

  Jacob whipped his head in my direction, a frown filling his face.

  “You know what, I get it.” We both glanced at Cole. He threw his hands up. “I understand. I kind of set fire to your relationship with your mother-”

  “Our relationship was ash long before you entered the picture,” Jacob cut in, his attention on his brother. “I'm not angry with you. I don't even think I'm technically angry at her, though she's behind all of this. I'm angry with myself. Angry that for the first time, I thought about the past with regret. Regret is weakness. Everyone makes decisions that lead them to this moment. You can't change the past—but I found myself wishing that I could. That I could go back and know you.”

  Not thinking, I reached out and put my hand on top of Jacob's. He didn't rebuff me, lifting his fingers slightly to stroke mine.

  “So much time we lost-”

  “Then let's not miss a second more,” Cole interjected gently. “Let's start over.” He pushed back from the table and a smile crept across my face as he walked backward until he hit the doorway. He held his head high and dusted his palms. Without a word he walked back to the table. He pivoted to Jacob, extending his hand.

  “Hi. I'm Cole.”

  Jacob stared at his hand intently. Like he knew it was more than just a hand. More than a peace offering. More than a new beginning. If he shook Cole's hand, it meant he was letting his guard down. It meant he could be hurt. But I crossed my fingers and hoped that he saw that the boundaries he built around himself didn't just keep out the pain, but they walled him in. He had to let go.

  Jacob rose from his seat slowly, then shook his brother's hand. “I'm Jacob.”

  TEN

  ****

  I pretended like I was being productive, my attention on the laptop perched in my lap, but leaving Jacob and Cole to have time to themselves after dinner was really just a cover. I'd snatched up pieces of conversation, each laugh, each smile behind words making me feel less and less like the worst wife ever.

  After they reintroduced themselves, Jacob had honored their unspoken truce. He talked about growing up, lonely even though he was surrounded by kids just like him. Rich kids discarded by ambivalent parents. He talked about turning Whitmore and Creighton from an underdog to a contender in the field of public relations. When a publicity shit storm hit, Whitmore Creighton was the first name that came to mind for damage control.

  Cole talked about growing up in a whole different world. He was adopted by a middle class family, his mother was a teacher, his father owned an auto shop. Cole was their oldest, and his sister, Melody, was their miracle that came eight years later. He graduated with a degree in English literature and wanted to be a high school english teacher, like his mom.

  They talked about everything from politics to their worst hangovers—everything but Alicia. She was the elephant in the room, the only subject that was forbidden.

  Before I left I wanted to tell them that tiptoeing around Alicia Whitmore was exactly what she wanted. That she was the person that connected them couldn't ever truly be disregarded, but I didn't want to derail their progress.

  I leaned in, clutching my laptop as I strained to listen when their laughter drifted from the dining room.

  “You sure you got enough to eat?” Jacob's voice was warm. Friendly.

  “Absolutely. Too much even.” A chair scraped against the floor. “I better head out. Back to work bright and early.” He came into the main room, seeking me out. He waved, his smile bright and disarming. “Thanks again for
having me over, Leila.”

  “Anytime,” I replied, biting my lip when Jacob appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with an arched eyebrow. “If that's okay with you?”

  “Now she asks me,” he said sarcastically, but I saw the half smile on his lips. He faced Cole, holding out his hand. “You're welcome anytime. We'll talk soon.”

  “Handshakes are for strangers and business.” Cole bypassed the hand, embracing Jacob. The shock on Jacob's face melted into a look so hopeful that my heart leaped in my chest. He mumbled something and clapped his brother on the back and Cole made his exit, leaving us staring at the spot where he stood.

  I felt Jacob's eyes on me, but I couldn't bear to look into his eyes and see disappointment. “I know you're pissed-”

  “I'm not pissed.”

  I jerked my gaze upward, sure that I misheard him. “You're not?”

  He crossed his arms, his face hopelessly unreadable. “Get over here.”

  I slid my laptop onto the cushion, but made no other moves toward him. “What?”

  “You heard me.” His voice deepened to that delicious, terrifying timbre that made me tremble and melt all at once. That roped me in, tied me down, and claimed me. “Get over here.”

  I slid from the couch, the hardwood floor cool against my feet but doing nothing to the heat that was taking over. I'd been so on edge, so worried about what came next that all the worries dropped onto me. One foot in front of the other, hoping for something I didn't deserve. Hoping that he not only forgave me, but that he'd touch me and make it real. Fill me and whisper that he loved me, flaws and all.

  I stopped a few feet away from him. Close enough that I could see all the ways he turned a shirt and tie into the sexiest thing is ever seen. I saw the deep shade of brown that flickered through his locks, the candlelight turning his strands gold. His eyes were deep blue, rushing over me. Pulling me under.

  He was so close that his breath was my breath. So close that I felt every emotion flowing through him; his anger, his frustration. When he pulled me toward him, my body crashing into his, I was close enough to feel his lust.

  I hitched a breath as he fisted my hair, blue eyes catching fire. “After what you did, I have every right to be angry. To be furious. But I can't think when you look at me like that, Leila.”

  My lips were inches from his. Quivering. Aching. “Like what?”

  “Like you see me. All of me. And you love me anyway.”

  He cupped my cheek, his thumb strumming my cheek so softly that I felt the music in my bones. I stared up at him, so open, so vulnerable and I spoke the truth in my heart.

  “How could I not love you, Jacob? You're my world. And I'm s-”

  “Shh.” He took my face in both hands, his forehead pressed against mine as his eyes bore into mine. “Don't apologize. I know your heart was in the right place. I don't like that you essentially ambushed me, but that's you. You fiercely worry about the people you love and you're willing to do anything for them. I wished for someone like you. And now that you're mine, I'm never letting you go.”

  He consumed my mouth and I breathed him in. His love, his moans, his desire. This kiss was more than lips and tongue and our teeth clashing as we clawed at each other. This kiss was my apology, his apology—the taste and feel of ‘I screwed up and all I want is for everything to be okay’.

  I paused, chest pumping, dress half on and half off, hair wild and messy. Jacob's shirt was missing a few buttons, his face flushed, his pants snug as his cock pierced through the fabric.

  “Are we okay?”

  He stood before me, his lips rounding into a sensual smile. He reached out and freed my hair from its lopsided bun. Traced my jawline with his fingertips. He fingered the material of my dress and slowly pulled it the rest of the way over my shoulders, down over my breasts and further still. He was so close to my core, my lack of panties reveled and appreciated the pleased rumble at the back of his throat.

  “I could say that we're okay. Tell you all the ways I love and want you, but I'd much rather show you.”

  Oh God.

  My dress was at my ankles, restricting my movement but I was just wide enough that I could feel just how wet I was. Feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. The electric sensation when his fingers slipped inside of me. I was enslaved to his touch. He moved inside me, deeper, harder until I clung to him. Needing more of this. More of him.

  I tried to step out of my dress, but he lifted me up and pinned me against the wall. His fingers were still inside me, his eyes filled with so much love, so much passion. His gaze was as intimate, as visceral as him being inside of me, pumping and stretching and overwhelming me.

  I dug my fingernails into his shoulders and raked my way down his arms. I tore his shirt off the rest of the way. I felt so alive, so desperate to have no secrets, no space, no clothing between us.

  He pulled from me, cupping my face with his lust drenched fingers. “I need to be inside you,” he said thickly. “Right here. Right now.”

  I stepped out of my dress and kicked it aside. “Then take me.”

  He ripped open his fly, the thick, veiny length of him rock hard and ready. I ached for him inside me. He gripped one of my legs, opening my body for him.

  He braced himself against the wall, looking at me like I was the beginning and end of everything. Like he was saved and doomed all at once. “The only thing that can destroy me is you, Leila. Losing you, losing your love-”

  “I'm right here, Jacob,” I said breathlessly. Every part of me was his, from the top of my head to my toes. “I'm yours.”

  I half straddled him, one leg in his grip, the other on the ground. He lifted me up, his fingertips gripping my ass for dear life as he rocked into me. Deep, furious, and up against the wall because we couldn't wait one more moment to be together.

  I clutched him with my hands. With my body. It was so much pleasure, too much pleasure to bear. I felt the nearness of my climax. It consumed me. It consumed him.

  “Don't stop,” I said breathlessly. “Please don't stop.”

  He buried his mouth in the nape of my neck. “Let go, Lay. I'll catch you.”

  So I did and the world exploded in a sea of color and lust. He filled me until I could take no more. My vision blurred and I was so out of control. Lost...and found.

  He kissed me until I had no air left in my lungs.

  He surrendered to me and I knew I was completely and hopelessly his.

  Still relearning to breathe I looked up at him. He braced himself against the wall, the look on his face pure bliss. “You...that...”

  “Was incredible,” I finished with a toothy grin.

  “My favorite kind of dessert.” He ran a hand through his hair as he turned toward the kitchen, making me tremble all over again when I saw his perfect ass.

  I bit my lip, feeling like I could go another round or four. “So, one could say that this whole dinner thing was in fact a great idea?”

  He glanced back at me with a spark in his eyes. “One could.”

  “And that I'm always right?”

  “Don't push your luck,” he grinned. “You're always you, which is to say equal parts amazing, sexy, and maddening...and I wouldn't have it any other way.”

  ELEVEN

  ****

  Being the wife of a billionaire came with certain realities. I lived in a penthouse apartment with a priceless view of the city. As Jacob's assistant I had a five figure clothing allowance, but now I had a black Visa card with no limit. Jacob made it clear that ‘mi private jet es su private jet’ and my problems switched from student loans to, what exotic location do I want to visit on our next trip?

  Maybe it was because I grew up middle class that I remained grounded. I refused to let Jacob buy me a luxury car. I still carried my own bags and made it a point to not take any of this for granted.

  Somehow, even though I looked the part and was married to wealth, I still felt like an outsider. And the rich and those employed by the rich
saw right through me.

  When I stepped inside of Jessica Lenoir's building, I knew I was in for an afternoon of her attempting to exert her authority over me. It had nothing to do with the interior design of the place. My apartment building had the same marble statues, gallery style artwork hung on the walls, exquisite crown molding and attention to detail that came with the exorbitant rent. It wasn't the doorman who all but asked for my social security number when I stepped up to the entrance. It was more than the cold once over the concierge gave me when I said my name. Jessica’s mind games kicked into overdrive when she made me wait in the lobby for half an hour without explanation. Like my time wasn't valuable. Like the whole world stopped and turned on her whim.

  Just as I was getting ready to cancel our appointment, my name rang out from near the concierge desk. I rolled my eyes, sure the concierge was about to whip out some policy on loitering. But there was another woman waiting. She was modelesque with skin the color of coffee. Her hair was cropped short, accentuating her striking cheekbones. When she smiled, her whole face came alive. She wore a flowing dress that would have looked like a watercolor paper bag on anyone else but it was ethereal on her.

  She strode over to me, extending her hand. “I'm Esther. I'd like to apologize on behalf of Ms. Lenoir. She had a meeting that was running late.” Her acorn shaped eyes narrowed as she dropped her volume. “That's what she wanted me to tell you anyway. Between you and I, she was procrastinating and hoping if she made you wait long enough, you'd go away.”

  I clenched my jaw. “I figured as much.” I rose to my feet, smoothing the front of my skirt. “So what changed her mind?”

  “A desire to prove the world, and the board wrong,” Esther answered without missing a beat. “She'll never admit this—I'm her assistant and I know her better than anyone—she can't do this alone. She needs someone that's not intimidated by her.” She smiled conspiratorially as she took me in. “And I can tell from the look on your face that you give as good as you get and you can steer her in the right direction.”

  The anger that had been eating at me with every passing minute sitting on that beautiful, uncomfortable chair waned slightly. “I appreciate that. Right now, I'd like you to steer me in the direction of her apartment so we can get to work.”