The Billionaire's Girlfriend (BDSM Erotic Romance) (His Submissive, Part Five) Read online

  "You don't have to apologize." But I felt like I needed to. 'Based on a true story' had become a cliché and I'd assumed they'd taken a grain of truth and turned it into a virtual bread factory of explosions and riveting soundtrack that had very little to do with truth.

  "He's a true American hero," Cade continued, looking out the window like something transfixed. "Not a wannabe like me."

  “A wannabe?” I repeated.

  “National Guard,” he answered quietly. His whole demeanor changed, the sunny, charismatic force somewhat dimmed. He was somber and almost eerily silent compared to the guy who first sat down at my table.

  I scooted to the edge of my seat, curious. "I had no idea you were military."

  "Yeah," he said gruffly, not meeting my eyes. “I didn’t do anything worth remembering.”

  “Don’t say that.” I reached out, putting my hand over his. Something about his demeanor, his sadness, made me forget he was Cade Wallace. “Anyone serving our country, fighting for our freedoms is worth remembering.”

  “Is that right?” he said, halfheartedly.

  “Yep,” I said firmly. “Most actors can only say they’ve played characters, researching experiences to tell an authentic story. You’ve actually done it.”

  He glanced up and his eyes drank in my own nice and slow like he was seeing me in a whole new light. Or maybe even the first time. I pulled my hand away and let out a nervous chuckle, wondering what Cade’s story was, and why in a technology age where every booger celebrities picked was readily available, there was nothing at all listed as far as a military record.

  "Anyway,” he began, cutting through my musings, “I was in the neighborhood and figured I'd come and meet the team that's going to help make sure it gets the box office reception it deserves."

  I wrung my hands in my lap, refreshing the blush in my cheeks. "I'm just a small part of the team, Mr. Wallace."

  "My mother was a nurse. She spent her life doing the grunt work while doctors got all the glory." He winked as he rose to his feet. "Trust me—I know what a big role the small parts play."

  I sat a little taller, wishing Natasha or any of the handful of women that had been looking at me like I wasn’t fit to scrub the toilets were around to hear that. "Well, alright then."

  "You take care and I'll see you bright and early on Monday." He stopped and turned back to me, giving me another dazzling smile. "It was nice meeting you, Leila."

  ****

  Le Goût had been on my ‘Big City Dreams’ list since forever. They had a Michelin star chef on staff and were always given amazing reviews in all the right newspapers and magazines. Even though I'd only been on the outside looking in, watching beautiful people around tables with dishes that cost as much as my grocery bill for the month, I knew that Le Goût represented something special. It was the pinnacle of class and prestige—everyone that was anybody had walked through the doors at least once. Even scoring a reservation less than a month in advance was impossible. Unless you were Jacob Whitmore.

  Jacob put the Porsche in park as we pulled to the velvet rope in front of Le Goût. The valet was on his p's and q's, promptly moving to open my door. Jacob held up his finger and the man paused, arms at his side, giving us a moment.

  "Are you alright?" His eyes flickered over my face. "You've barely said two words since we got in the car."

  I unclicked my seatbelt slowly and when I met his gaze I didn't even bother with a white lie. I'd gotten my mother's text over thirty minutes ago and Jacob had to call Le Goût and give them the okay to seat her and Dad, even though they were mega early for our 8pm reservation. I'd become a whirlwind, saying the hell with drying and flatironing my hair and forgetting all the strategic make up I'd planned to apply. It was my first time at my dream restaurant and my curly hair was in a messy bun on top of my head and I was wearing an unassuming black dress because I didn’t have the time to steam the scarlet number I wanted to wear. God only knew the trouble my mother was getting into. Add that to the stress of my parents meeting Jacob and no wonder I was close-lipped.

  One side of his mouth tugged upward. "You're nervous about your parents." When my eyebrow arched, he remedied. "Nervous about your mother."

  I gave him a slight nod as I fiddled with my clutch. I'd told Jacob about my run in with the paps at my parent's house and accidentally let it slip that my mother tipped them off. I'd expected him to write her off, to think she was just another fame hungry momzilla living vicariously through her offspring, but he'd just laughed and asked if they got any good pictures. And he still wanted to meet her. It was terribly sweet--and upped the ante to a fever pitch that had dread coursing through my veins. He was the first guy who ever seemed genuinely interested in my family and learning about where I came from. It made the possibility that something would happen and keep everything from going off without a hitch.

  "It'll be fine." He stroked my thigh, his touch taking the edge off. "It's just dinner."

  I gave him a smile and with a nod from Jacob, the valet opened my door and I stepped out of the car. I ignored the part of me that knew it was a lot more than that. I breathed in and out as I clung to his arm and we breezed inside.

  All the sights and smells helped to dull the nerves and I relaxed as we turned to the dining room. The area was a sea of glossy, important looking people, the jewels and watches at their wrists glittering as brightly as the silverware on the table. I held my smile, believing that maybe, just maybe the night wouldn’t turn into a train wreck until I saw my mother. Her face was furious and disdain flowed off her in waves—and was directed at the waiter. We were easily fifty feet away, but I could still hear her words loud and clear.

  "What do you mean it’s twenty-five dollars for Perrier? I can buy it for two bucks at the drugstore down the street!"

  Oh God.

  I rushed forward, hoping she would put the crazy back in the box once she spotted me and Jacob. "Mom!"

  She turned her head back to the front and went from meltdown to Miss Congeniality. "Leila!" She swat the waiter away like she was the Queen of England as she stood up, holding out her arms. “It’s so good to see you!”

  I gave her an awkward hug before I stepped aside to introduce Jacob. "And this is-"

  "My future son-in-law!"

  Jacob let out an uncomfortable chuckle as she brought him in for a hug that lasted way longer than appropriate. “Mrs. Montgomery. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Oh the pleasure’s all mine,” she said with a grating wink. My father gave Jacob a sturdy handshake once my mother released him and flashed me an apologetic half smile.

  I settled in my seat, trying to ignore the warmth of the gaze of the other patrons. Their disapproving eyes were as unnerving as cameras flashing. When our waiter gauged he wouldn't be chewed out again over the price of water, he breezed back to the table. I barely let him get a word out before I ordered the biggest martini they had.

  "Hard day at work?" Mom didn’t even bother masking her judgment.

  "Something like that," I answered with a tight smile.

  I could tell she wanted to push the subject, maybe give me a lecture about how it wasn't ladylike to drink, but she let it go. "It must be so glamorous working with celebrities." She leaned forward, dropping her voice to a near whisper. "Working with anyone interesting?"

  I glanced at Jacob and he gave me a nod. "Right now we're working with Cade Wallace."

  She exchanged a look with my dad and he shook his head. "You know I don't keep up with that stuff, sweetheart."

  She turned back to me, her forehead scrunched in concentration. "There's something familiar about that name..." She snapped her fingers as it dawned on her. "Cade Wallace! That bulky, Captain America looking action star with the strong jawline?"

  "That's him," I said with a weak laugh. My smile faltered when I realized why she remembered his jawline at all. Oh no…

  "If memory serves, Lay had quite the crush on him."

  Jacob perked. "Is tha
t right?"

  "I don't know if I'd call it a crush, Mom." I smoldered.

  I must have been naive to think that this meet the parents might go any different than the others. I'd turned down an offer for Jacob and I to come over for a home cooked meal, remembering my mother bringing out the photo album for the first guy I'd brought home. The second had to endure Mom's frighteningly descriptive honeymoon with Dad after she found out we were going on a cruise. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

  "Oh please," she snickered. "You had posters of the man plastered all over your dorm." She winked at Jacob. "All the other girls swoon over Leonardo DiCaprio, but not my Leila. She liked her men with extra testosterone."

  I hoped my mother's dated intel would lessen the blow of revealing that I was a fan of Cade’s, but I could already tell that she'd ruffled Jacob's feathers. The hand on my thigh retreated to his own and his jaw went tight as a bowstring.

  "Well," Jacob said with a chuckle that he only used when he was pretending he found something amusing. "Maybe I should have made the time to meet the man of Leila's dreams."

  I jabbed him with my elbow. "Don't be silly. You're the man of my dreams." When he looked at me for a heartbeat of a second, I could see the anger flash through his ice blue eyes.

  The waiter returned to our table and I downed my drink in record time and held up a single finger. He gave me an abrupt nod and hustled away to get me another. Jacob didn't even touch his drink. He just kept his eyes forward, icing me out like I kept some great secret from him. I gave my mother a pointed look and she let out a nervous giggle.

  "Well, um, what are you doing exactly? Another junket like Venice?"

  I'd been hoping for a complete subject change, but as long as she wasn't singing 'Leila and Cade, sitting in a tree', I'd take it. "He actually has a film coming out soon, so we're working with him to set up media interviews and other promotional activities."

  "A new movie?" she said brightly. "What's it called so Dad and I can be their opening night, bells and whistles on?"

  I couldn't help but smile at her efforts. Even when she was being absolutely ridiculous and embarrassing me with impressive skill, she always found a way to make me lower my arms by reminding me how she supported me. "Soldier's Creed."

  "That movies about 'Nam, right?"

  Everyone turned to my dad, surprised he actually said enough words to string together a sentence.

  He cleared his throat and shuffled in his seat uncomfortably, clearly not a fan of being in the spotlight. "I remember seeing something about it in The Times." He passed the mic to my mother. "You remember that article, don't you Cheryl?"

  "I sure do." She fondled with the pearls at her neck, a rueful look on her face. "It's just horrible what they did to that boy in the POW camp. For him to stay strong after all of that is amazing."

  I nodded in agreement. After meeting Cade I'd read up about the film and the soldier's story that inspired it. After being captured by enemy forces, he'd endured unspeakable atrocities for months on end but he never gave in.

  "Cade told me that they actually brought the soldier in as a consultant." I traced the stem of my martini glass. "As a vet, he seemed really moved by the story and honored to share it on the screen."

  "Interesting," Jacob said beside me.

  I turned to him, glad he was finally getting over it. "Yeah the story was really interesting."

  "Oh I wasn't talking about the story." He gulped down a swallow of scotch. "I was referring to you being on a first name basis with a client. Kind of unprofessional, don't you think?"

  Heat unfurled in my cheeks as I tried, and failed, to temper my response. "I referred to our last "client" by her first name on numerous occasions. And since you gave the go ahead to share with my folks, I really don't see what the big deal is."

  But as soon as I was done, and saw the look on everyone's faces, I felt like the village idiot. The big deal was obvious.

  Jacob was jealous.

  ****

  Even though I knew my mother couldn't say no to anything dessert related, she acted like she was bursting at the seams and had zero interest in looking at their treats. At the start of the evening I'd wanted to hit fast forward but since Jacob had been given me a sneak peek of the epic fight we'd have tonight, suddenly I wasn't so excited about parting ways.

  "You sure you don't want me to walk you out to your car?" I offered, trying to tuck a subliminal message in the words. "It's really no trouble."

  My mother's lip smirked slightly as she shook her head. She got the message, but chose to ignore it. "That's alright, sweetie."

  Dad rose up and shook Jacob's hand and waited while Mom gave Jacob another squeeze. She leaned down to my cheek and whispered, "Talk to him" before they hustled toward the exit.

  ‘Talk to him’? My date who'd gone from charismatic to quiet as the grave over some silly crush I had on Cade? I honestly didn't even know where to begin.

  The waiter came back with Jacob's black visa card and he slipped it onto his money clip. I shook every drop of alcohol I could from my glass and still came up wanting. There would be no dulling the nerves that had taken up residence in the pit of my stomach.

  "So are we going to talk about this?" I said finally, breaking the silence.

  "Talk about what?" He chewed every word and spit them out, refuting the nonchalant question.

  "About Cade." When he tensed, I added, "Mr. Wallace."

  "So now you want to talk about your attraction to him?" Jacob said heatedly. "When I've already agreed to represent him?"

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. "You're saying that if you knew that I had some stupid crush on him forever ago that you wouldn't have brought him on as a client?"

  His silence was all the reply I needed.

  I couldn't help but laugh at that. Jacob freaking Whitmore was saying that he'd stonewall Cade Wallace, hell, any man that I dared to have a crush on. It was mind boggling. How did I become this person, this woman worth burning bridges and cutting ties? Me, just a regular girl from Douglas Heights, making the sexiest man I'd ever met jealous to the point where professionalism was irrelevant? He couldn't be serious!

  The sound of his chair scraping backward cut through my laughter. "I'm glad you find all of this amusing."

  "Jacob-"

  "We're leaving." And with that he raged toward the exit like a bull with red in his sights. As much as I was dreading sliding into his two seater with me, him, and his stubbornness, I was dreading a ride home in a taxi more. If we were trying for a relationship and my feelings for Cade hurt him, I had to figure out a way to talk about it and make it right.

  I hustled behind him, trying to grip his elbow but he wrenched from my touch.

  "I want to talk, Jacob."

  He stopped, but he didn't turn around. "I need to cool off first, Leila. Anything I say now would only make things worse."

  "You won't even look at me,” I said, my voice rising. “How could it get any worse than that?" I knew we were putting on a show that would have put my mother's water debacle to shame, but I didn't care. I was trying to talk and be understanding and he was turning me into the villain. "I just don't get what the big deal is."

  "I'm not going to do this here." He burst through the door and I had tunnel vision, my anger causing me to completely miss the people camped out in front of the restaurant.

  "Stop walking away from me!" I said shrilly as I followed him outside and came face to face with the paparazzi. They gobbled up my plea and worked themselves into a frenzy as they snapped pictures left and right.

  I futilely held my clutch as a shield, trying to hide from the flashes as the valet helped me into the car but their questions had already hit their mark.

  "What were you two arguing about Leila?"

  "Is there trouble in paradise?"

  Jacob barely let the valet close my door before he stepped on the gas and the car swung into traffic. He snapped on the radio before switching gears, darting an
d weaving in between cars like some daredevil Nascar driver. It was clear the last thing on earth he wanted to do was talk, and his anger over an innocent crush made me want to talk even more.

  I powered off the radio. "We need to talk."

  I expected more fight, but he conceded. "Fine."

  I tried to explain it the best way I could. "I like over the top, insane action movies. And once upon a time, that was Cade Wallace's MO." I swallowed. "So I was a fan. Am a fan."

  "Just a fan, huh?"

  "Okay so I would have given the president of his fan club a run for her money," I said with exasperation. "But it was just a simple, silly celebrity crush. I never thought I'd ever meet him. And even if I did, I so wouldn't even make his radar."

  "Oh but you did, love." I didn't think it was possible for that word to come out of his mouth and make me feel anything but warmth and safety. Instead, I felt an icy slash of fear, only magnified when I saw the white of Jacob’s knuckles as he gripped the gear shift.

  "Jacob, I have no idea what you're talking about. We talked for ten damn minutes, we weren't planning some super-secret getaway!"

  When all I got was silence, I'd had it. If he wanted to be angry, fine. I wasn't going to die in a mangled sports car to prove I was a good girlfriend. "If you don't want to talk, fine. Pull to the curb and let me out." When he didn't even flinch, I put all of my frustration behind the order. "LET ME OUT!"

  He slowed down, but gave no indication that he planned on pulling over, so I decided to wait for the next stoplight. Too bad the paps weren't hot on our tail, or they'd get a hell of a shot of me sprinting from Jacob's Porsche.

  "He tweeted something yesterday that stuck with me, even though I planned to have him delete it. It had a romantic feel to it and completely contradicts the bad ass image we're trying to portray for the film."

  I clicked my seatbelt back on, abandoning my plans for escaping. "What does his Twitter feed have to do with-"