The Billionaire’s Lust (His Submissive, Part Seven) by Ava Claire Page A

humming along to some cavity inducing song about finally finding true love.
    I pressed my lids together, repeating ‘chips and alcohol’ over and over like a mantra, trying to combat the sadness that filled me like a poison. Once you get there, you can climb out of this cab and unload all this drama. Get some clarity.
    That thought was what kept me breathing and passing the driver the fare instead of getting him to make a U-turn and take me back to the apartment. Or one better--to Whitmore and Creighton where I’d finally tell Jacob about the letter and stop carrying the guilt like a shackle around m y neck. I wanted to find out where we really stood instead of teetering on the edge, waiting for a gentle breeze to send us spiraling to our doom.
    Lucy’s was always filled to the brim, the walls screaming as loud as the music that poured from the speakers. I scanned the restaurant until I saw Megan in a booth near the back, hunched over a margarita like you’d have to pry the drink from her cold, dead fingers.
    I pulled my mouth into a smile that dropped just in time for my eyebrows to leap when I saw that she was on her third glass.
    “Is there a holiday tomorrow I don’t know about?” I asked her, concern putting my issue aside. She was a pretty relaxed drinker, even back in school, so watching her pound ‘em back was like watching a pig take flight before my very eyes.
    “Is there?” she said, looking at me like I would be the one to know such things. She fondled a button on the front of her cardigan then shrugged her shoulder, resuming sipping. “Just had a long day.”
    Our waiter zipped to our table, dropping off a second bowl of chips and menu, saving her from my narrowed gaze.
    "Could we get a pitcher of strawberry margaritas?" Her Cheshire like grin tugged so high at the corners that it looked painful. "I know my bestie is parched."
    He let out a nervous chuckle and his eyes darted to me. I gave him a nod of approval and asked for some water.
    "So nothing's wrong," I said, my voice lined with disbelief. "You were just craving Lucy's?"
    "Mmhm," she said, crunching on a tortilla chip. As soon as she swallowed she went back to work on the rest of her drink. "Don't worry about me, Lay. I'm good."
    Even though the table was a crime scene of evidence to the contrary, I didn't fight her. Not when I had something to drink about myself.
    "I need to tell you something before I completely lose my shit."
    Something flitted across her face. Nah…it was nothing. She was practically begging me to spill about Jacob, I could tell by the way she was studying me.
    She gestured for me to keep going . "Well, don't leave me hanging."
    “I read a letter Jacob wrote to his mother.” I inhaled deep and exhaled. "I'm pretty sure he was going to ask me to marry him."
    Her emerald glazed eyes widened and her jaw practically dropped onto the festive table. “He what?!”
    I wasn’t expecting ‘mazel tov!’ or a suffocating hug. I hadn’t even expected to say it just once and have it go down since she was swaying back a nd forth to some invisible mariachi band. But this wasn’t a happy kind of shock, the OMG that every girl hopes to share with their best friend when her special somebody pops the question.
    I was seriously worried that her face would be frozen in a contortion of surprise and horror if she held her expression any longer, so I clarified. “He didn’t ask me to marry him. He was going to ask me to marry him. As in, has no current plan to ask me.”
    She relaxed immediately, sighing with relief as she raked a hand through her red locks. “Oh thank God.”
    “Oh thank God?” I repeated.  “I’m glad one of us is so relieved about it.”
    She propped her chin on h er palm, giving me a single glare that was full of no-nonsense. It was a look I was sure her students were familiar with.
    “This doesn’t have anything to do with relief, Leila. This has to do with the fact that two weeks ago you were lying and