The Billionaire's Heart (His Submissive, Part Four) by Ava Claire Page A

step closer. “I'm trying to do you a favor, Leila."
    I looked at her incredulously, remembering our last exchange when she admitted to setting me up with the paparazzi. She wanted to help me alright—right over a cliff. "Yeah..no thanks." I moved around her, pausing only when she gripped my elbow. I let my gaze drop to her hand then slowly creep back up until I had her in my sights. When our eyes met, she released me immediately.
    "Wise choice,” I said icily. “We really don’t have anything to discuss. If Jacob is no longer overseeing your events, neither am I."
    "This isn't about any event," she snapped. "This is about Jacob."
    “Of course it is.”
    “Not about me and Jacob.”
    “Uh huh.” I rolled my eyes. “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t believe you. Or want to spend one more second talking to you.”
    I was all but ready to leave her in my dust until she jutted her chin out defiantly. The odd nervousness she’d displayed over the past few minutes melted away like someone had suddenly screeched “Cut!” She rolled her shoulders back and her stance went from unsure to confident. Her bright eyes took on the self-righteous glint that I knew all too well.
    "You'll want to give me a few minutes of your time, dear,” she said with her trademark condescension. “If you think having ass shots all over the internet was bad, just you wait until the world finds out about Jacob's bdsm contracts with his assistants."
    My mouth fell open. The tourists and museum goers around us chirped and bustled, but the only thing I heard was ‘bdsm’ echoing over and over. I didn’t even bother with how she figured it out. At this point, it really didn’t matter.
    She knew.
    Say something. Act like you don’t know what she’s talking about. Say something, Lay! But I was frozen. Worried a single word, a single movement, would set her off.
    "Good." Her features were as firm as the marble statues standing a few feet away. "Thank you for not insulting me by playing stupid."
    I glanced over her shoulder, looking for my lifeline. I saw Jacob near a cluster of paintings in the far corner, head bowed in concentration.
    I returned my attention to Rachel, searching for some tell-tale sign that she was bluffing. I rushed over the vindictive curve of her lips, the stubborn set of her jaw--all of that was old news. Her eyes wouldn’t lie.
    My heart jumped to my throat.
    She'd do it.
    Without hesitation.
    "Bathroom." A victorious smile sliced across her face. "Now."
    I followed her, weaving in and out of the crowd, the colors bleeding into one another. We stepped into the expansive restroom and I expected her to scan it to see if we were alone, but she just walked to the sink.
    “Couldn’t fit enough antibacterial in my disguise to do any good.” She crinkled her nose. “Do you know how many people have brushed up against me in the past fifteen minutes?”
    I didn’t respond, chewing on my lip to fight the urge to remind her that normal people were the reason she got to live like a queen.
    She stopped washing her hands, clearly surprised I didn't take the bait. "No bleeding heart comment to make, Leila?"
    She had me right where she wanted me. Of course I’d play nice when she had my back against the wall. "No."
    "Good." She pulled off her ball cap, brown locks spilling from its confines. Anyone else would have had a bad case of hat hair, but Rachel's looked professionally tousled. Still she toyed with it, trying to get it to fall even more perfectly.
    "From the ‘holy shit’ that was written all over your face,” she said after a moment, “I take it you signed his little contract and agreed to be his sex slave?"
    "Sex slave?" I said indignantly, red flushing my cheeks. "I'm no one's sex slave."
    "Sex slave, submissive." She shrugged. "Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. When you were together, it was all because you signed the dotted line, right?"
    My mind shot back to Jacob’s hands on me. He played my body like an instrument,