The Billionaire's Past (His Submissive, Part Ten) by Ava Claire
Authors: Ava Claire
Tags: alpha male, Erotic Romance, alpha male romance, Billionaire, billionaire romance, billionaire alpha male, billionaire erotic romance, ava claire
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Section One
We held our breath, side by side, our issues
forgotten as we watched Jacob for some sort of clue that Mia was
alright.
Naturally, he gave nothing away.
"I'm assuming if the girl was dead it would
be all over the place," Natasha murmured with a shrug.
For someone that walked around like they knew
everything, Natasha clearly didn't know squat about being
human.
She mouthed a ‘what?’ to Missy and rolled her
marble blue eyes at me as I let out a scoff of disgust and turned
back to Jacob. I didn’t have the time or patience to get into it
with her again. Not when it was getting harder and harder to
breathe, waiting for information about Mia.
Overdose.
That word brought back a chilling memory.
Freshman year--everyone buzzing with their first taste of
adulthood. Life without parents. The dizzying power of
responsibility. Staying up as late as you want. No one forcing
homework and sports down your throat. No wonder so many people
packed on the Freshman 15 or in my case, 30, when you could have
pizza for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Still, I’d be lying if I said sometimes I
didn’t wake up and forget. Ache for home. Expect to hear the low
drone of Mom watching some terrible soap opera or the mechanical
buzz of Dad at work in the shed. But my first college roommate was
ten times worse. She'd cry herself to sleep, always on the phone
with her parents, texting the boyfriend that she left back
home.
I tried to involve her in things, inviting
her to the cafeteria, offering to walk with her to class, but she
turned me down. I knew she had to be lonely. She was miserable when
she couldn't reach them and only smiled when she spoke to them.
And then something changed.
She started opening up to me. Telling me
about her past and what she wanted for her future. She even started
coming down to the dining hall instead of eating in the room
alone.
All her progress halted when her boyfriend
broke up with her. She stopped going to class altogether. She
stopped using words, communicating through grunts and eye rolls.
She didn’t even leave her bed, curled up in her comforter like the
world outside was just too painful.
It was horrible of me, but I kind of thought
she was just being ridiculous. That she needed to grow up instead
of dealing with a rough breakup in the worst possible way. I had no
idea there was something much darker going on.
About a week later, I came back from my
morning classes and realized she hadn’t moved in hours. Usually
she'd shift to a different side of the bed or her body would curl
in a different version of the fetal position. When I saw that all
of the pill bottles in the bathroom were empty, I freaked out.
I could still remember dashing to my desk to
call 911. The way the girls lined the halls, whispering as the
medics wheeled my roommate out on a stretcher, trying to
resuscitate her. Apparently if I hadn’t called when I did, she
would have died.
She moved back home and I never heard from
her again.
Did I miss something this time too? So caught
up in being vindicated that Missy’s approach was too brutal that I
missed how far gone Mia really was? Should I have gone after her
instead of trying to figure out a way to convince Jacob that I
deserved to be heard on her case? Because now there was only
silence, a deafening, hollow quiet--and a worry that I could have
done more.
That I could have saved her.
Jacob lowered his phone, his face unreadable
as he ran a hand through his dark locks, waves swishing back in
place. We were all antsy, waiting with bated breath. When his eyes
settled on me, the knots that ground in my belly slackened.
“She’s still alive,” I said softly, relief
crashing into me.
Missy moved forward, her dark ponytail
slashing the air. She needed to hear it for herself. "Mia Kent's
alive?"
"Yes," Jacob confirmed with a crisp nod.
"She's at Mercy General. They pumped her stomach and she's under
suicide watch."
"We have to--" I looked to my left and
We held our breath, side by side, our issues
forgotten as we watched Jacob for some sort of clue that Mia was
alright.
Naturally, he gave nothing away.
"I'm assuming if the girl was dead it would
be all over the place," Natasha murmured with a shrug.
For someone that walked around like they knew
everything, Natasha clearly didn't know squat about being
human.
She mouthed a ‘what?’ to Missy and rolled her
marble blue eyes at me as I let out a scoff of disgust and turned
back to Jacob. I didn’t have the time or patience to get into it
with her again. Not when it was getting harder and harder to
breathe, waiting for information about Mia.
Overdose.
That word brought back a chilling memory.
Freshman year--everyone buzzing with their first taste of
adulthood. Life without parents. The dizzying power of
responsibility. Staying up as late as you want. No one forcing
homework and sports down your throat. No wonder so many people
packed on the Freshman 15 or in my case, 30, when you could have
pizza for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Still, I’d be lying if I said sometimes I
didn’t wake up and forget. Ache for home. Expect to hear the low
drone of Mom watching some terrible soap opera or the mechanical
buzz of Dad at work in the shed. But my first college roommate was
ten times worse. She'd cry herself to sleep, always on the phone
with her parents, texting the boyfriend that she left back
home.
I tried to involve her in things, inviting
her to the cafeteria, offering to walk with her to class, but she
turned me down. I knew she had to be lonely. She was miserable when
she couldn't reach them and only smiled when she spoke to them.
And then something changed.
She started opening up to me. Telling me
about her past and what she wanted for her future. She even started
coming down to the dining hall instead of eating in the room
alone.
All her progress halted when her boyfriend
broke up with her. She stopped going to class altogether. She
stopped using words, communicating through grunts and eye rolls.
She didn’t even leave her bed, curled up in her comforter like the
world outside was just too painful.
It was horrible of me, but I kind of thought
she was just being ridiculous. That she needed to grow up instead
of dealing with a rough breakup in the worst possible way. I had no
idea there was something much darker going on.
About a week later, I came back from my
morning classes and realized she hadn’t moved in hours. Usually
she'd shift to a different side of the bed or her body would curl
in a different version of the fetal position. When I saw that all
of the pill bottles in the bathroom were empty, I freaked out.
I could still remember dashing to my desk to
call 911. The way the girls lined the halls, whispering as the
medics wheeled my roommate out on a stretcher, trying to
resuscitate her. Apparently if I hadn’t called when I did, she
would have died.
She moved back home and I never heard from
her again.
Did I miss something this time too? So caught
up in being vindicated that Missy’s approach was too brutal that I
missed how far gone Mia really was? Should I have gone after her
instead of trying to figure out a way to convince Jacob that I
deserved to be heard on her case? Because now there was only
silence, a deafening, hollow quiet--and a worry that I could have
done more.
That I could have saved her.
Jacob lowered his phone, his face unreadable
as he ran a hand through his dark locks, waves swishing back in
place. We were all antsy, waiting with bated breath. When his eyes
settled on me, the knots that ground in my belly slackened.
“She’s still alive,” I said softly, relief
crashing into me.
Missy moved forward, her dark ponytail
slashing the air. She needed to hear it for herself. "Mia Kent's
alive?"
"Yes," Jacob confirmed with a crisp nod.
"She's at Mercy General. They pumped her stomach and she's under
suicide watch."
"We have to--" I looked to my left and
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