The Billionaire's Promise (BDSM Erotic Romance) (His Submissive, Part Eight) by Ava Claire
Authors: Ava Claire
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The room was dead silent, the uncomfortable quiet after a gasp reverberated around every square inch of the penthouse before settling back on me.
My lips were frozen in an O of shock and horror. My fingers gripped the edge of the table, glued to it like it was the only thing that was keeping me from falling right to the floor. I could only imagine the expression on Jacob's face. He'd been combative since his mother surprised us, stepping off her gilded throne to dash what would have been a great morning.
Alicia Whitmore eyed me patiently, like she'd just asked me for the weather and not the number that would make me walk away from her son.
"How much do you need to start your own business and forget this whole marriage thing, Leila?"
I closed my mouth and swallowed, feeling nauseous. Her proposition was just as vile the second time around.
I tried to steady my voice and managed to say something besides WTF. "Mrs. Whitmore--"
"Alicia," she interjected coolly, showing a crack in her glass facade. "I'm about to write you a check for more money than the average person will see in several lifetimes--I think we should be on a first name basis."
"You can't possibly think..." I covered my mouth, trying to stifle the cry that rose in my throat. It's pretty obvious what she thinks of you, Lay.
"I think you're a smart girl.” She ran a quick hand through her short hair, black and gray layers fluttering back in place. “Industrious. Why else would you sign a sexual contract with a man you hardly knew?"
I could only blink, wide eyed and stunned. Her words were a slap across the face, the blow red and stinging. The last thing I wanted was to show her that her attempt at hurting me worked, but I couldn't stop the tears from flooding my eyes.
In a perfect world, I would have said that what Jacob and I had was more than words on a page. I would have told her that this was our home and she didn't have to like me, but she would respect me. And when she inevitably refused, I would have calmly stood up and ordered her to get out.
My head spun with all the things I had every right to say. My defense was on the tip of my tongue, ready to put her in her place. But I didn’t utter a single word.
I scrubbed my hands over my face, wishing this was all a dream. A nightmare. I knew meeting his mother wouldn't necessarily be pleasant. Jacob told me about her preference for the company of those worth more than God and in Alicia Whitmore’s book, everyone else was just there to wait on her hand and foot. I'd been prepared for snobbery. An air of condescension. But not this.
"Mrs. Whitmore,” I croaked, trying to find some way to tell her that I would never take her money and leave Jacob—without breaking down. “I don't...I couldn't …"
"I'm aware that this is probably a lot to digest, but I'm about to change your life, dear. Even the craziest number can be made a reality." Her eyes slanted to her son. "If Jacob is making you nervous, I could just leave it blank."
She said it so flippantly, like she was used to her pen making her problems go away. How many people found their name on that 'pay to the order of’ line? What astronomical number did they sell their soul for?
"Have you lost your goddamn MIND?!" Jacob roared, putting words to the hurt that rendered me speechless. Anger tightened his handsome features. His aqua eyes were scorching flames. His nostrils flared like he had red in his sights. His jaw was a razor’s edge, sharp and unyielding. He was in a t-shirt and lounge pants but he may as well have been decked out like a gladiator, blazing into the coliseum to defend my honor.
Alicia pursed her lips into a crimson line and turned her attention to him. "I've abided the reception I received since I stepped through the door Jacob, but I will not tolerate your attitude for one more second."
Jacob jerked up from the table. " My attitude? After you’ve come here and spoke of things someone like you could NEVER
The room was dead silent, the uncomfortable quiet after a gasp reverberated around every square inch of the penthouse before settling back on me.
My lips were frozen in an O of shock and horror. My fingers gripped the edge of the table, glued to it like it was the only thing that was keeping me from falling right to the floor. I could only imagine the expression on Jacob's face. He'd been combative since his mother surprised us, stepping off her gilded throne to dash what would have been a great morning.
Alicia Whitmore eyed me patiently, like she'd just asked me for the weather and not the number that would make me walk away from her son.
"How much do you need to start your own business and forget this whole marriage thing, Leila?"
I closed my mouth and swallowed, feeling nauseous. Her proposition was just as vile the second time around.
I tried to steady my voice and managed to say something besides WTF. "Mrs. Whitmore--"
"Alicia," she interjected coolly, showing a crack in her glass facade. "I'm about to write you a check for more money than the average person will see in several lifetimes--I think we should be on a first name basis."
"You can't possibly think..." I covered my mouth, trying to stifle the cry that rose in my throat. It's pretty obvious what she thinks of you, Lay.
"I think you're a smart girl.” She ran a quick hand through her short hair, black and gray layers fluttering back in place. “Industrious. Why else would you sign a sexual contract with a man you hardly knew?"
I could only blink, wide eyed and stunned. Her words were a slap across the face, the blow red and stinging. The last thing I wanted was to show her that her attempt at hurting me worked, but I couldn't stop the tears from flooding my eyes.
In a perfect world, I would have said that what Jacob and I had was more than words on a page. I would have told her that this was our home and she didn't have to like me, but she would respect me. And when she inevitably refused, I would have calmly stood up and ordered her to get out.
My head spun with all the things I had every right to say. My defense was on the tip of my tongue, ready to put her in her place. But I didn’t utter a single word.
I scrubbed my hands over my face, wishing this was all a dream. A nightmare. I knew meeting his mother wouldn't necessarily be pleasant. Jacob told me about her preference for the company of those worth more than God and in Alicia Whitmore’s book, everyone else was just there to wait on her hand and foot. I'd been prepared for snobbery. An air of condescension. But not this.
"Mrs. Whitmore,” I croaked, trying to find some way to tell her that I would never take her money and leave Jacob—without breaking down. “I don't...I couldn't …"
"I'm aware that this is probably a lot to digest, but I'm about to change your life, dear. Even the craziest number can be made a reality." Her eyes slanted to her son. "If Jacob is making you nervous, I could just leave it blank."
She said it so flippantly, like she was used to her pen making her problems go away. How many people found their name on that 'pay to the order of’ line? What astronomical number did they sell their soul for?
"Have you lost your goddamn MIND?!" Jacob roared, putting words to the hurt that rendered me speechless. Anger tightened his handsome features. His aqua eyes were scorching flames. His nostrils flared like he had red in his sights. His jaw was a razor’s edge, sharp and unyielding. He was in a t-shirt and lounge pants but he may as well have been decked out like a gladiator, blazing into the coliseum to defend my honor.
Alicia pursed her lips into a crimson line and turned her attention to him. "I've abided the reception I received since I stepped through the door Jacob, but I will not tolerate your attitude for one more second."
Jacob jerked up from the table. " My attitude? After you’ve come here and spoke of things someone like you could NEVER
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