"The truth is what, Leila?" Jacob said, eyes smoldering. "Spit it out."
"She came to me at the museum today,” I conceded, hanging my head. “She threatened to go to the press if I didn't give her five minutes with you."
Jacob frowned. “Go to the press? Go to the press with what?”
“W-with the contracts.” I sunk my teeth into the inside of my jaw until I taste blood. “She knows about the contracts.”
Relief flooded me when I saw the pure rage storming when turned on Rachel. “You threatened Leila?”
Rachel sputtered something about money and I relaxed…until he held up a hand, silencing her. He turned his face from her and lifted his eyes to mine."Wait a minute--so all this morning, this afternoon, when I asked you if something was wrong, you lied to me?"
"Yes," I said hoarsely. "But I was just trying to-"
"And that whole bit about your father being sick." His voice was low and dangerous. His eyes were worse. "That was a lie as well."
"My my," Rachel cackled behind me. "Who knew Miss Montgomery could act as well?"
I balled my fists at my side, trying to ignore her. She wasn't important. What was important was the fact that every second that passed Jacob could spin all sorts of terrible conclusions. I just had to make him understand.
I moved forward and put my hand over his, thrusting past the disdain in his glare. He was back to the disguise, the wall he put up to protect himself. I'd finally chipped away at it; I’d seen proof of that all day. Even if he was pissed at me, he was still reachable.
"I'm sorry I lied, but this isn't what it looks like,” I said forcefully. “Rachel didn't have to pay me-"
He slid his hand from beneath mine. "Why should I believe anything you say?"
I reared back in shock. There were a million reasons he should believe me. He knew me, better than anyone. But there was one screeching reason why he shouldn't. If I could lie about my father’s fake illness, what wouldn’t I lie about?
"Jacob..." Tears sparked in my eyes. “Jacob, please just let me explain.”
He looked right through me. "You're dismissed, Miss Montgomery."
Dismissed? I wanted to shake him, force him to listen, but nothing would be gained from making a scene.
“I’ll wait for you at the hotel,” I murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
“That won’t be necessary,” he said coldly. “Your services are no longer required.” He reached into his lapel and retrieved his phone. “I’ll have Allegra assist you in packing your things for your departure.”
I shouldn’t have been able to walk, to move when I felt like someone was jumping up and down on my chest, but I mustered the little dignity I had left and walked away from the man I loved.
****
I used the sleeve of my long sleeved t-shirt to make myself presentable and put on a halfhearted smile as I opened the door. This morning, before Rachel slithered back onto the scene, there’d been one person I’d wanted to confide in about falling for Jacob. Now, that same person would take me away from him.
"Hi Allegra."
"Hello Leila." She stepped into the room, glancing around at the sad state of things. You could barely make out the floor through the strips of clothes and underwear that were strewn about. I’d spent a ludicrous amount on overpriced room service chocolate and there was a graveyard of wrappers glittering in the dim light. She raised her eyebrows at the sight of my worn overnight bag sitting on top of the vanity.
I gestured at it. "I'm pretty much packed." I let out a strangled chuckle. "I figure when Jacob Whitmore ‘dismisses’ you he wants you to leave behind the company supplied wardrobe, huh?"
“Jacob is not that way,” she reassured me. “Va bene. It will be okay.”
I had to stop myself from glaring at her. None of this was her fault. But the fact remained that I was being expelled from Jacob’s life, and everything that I’d fought tooth and nail for—my job, some semblance of respect and control, what we could have been—it was all over. Things couldn’t be further from okay.
“You believe me, yes?” she asked gently.
I didn’t have the energy to pretend her attempts at making me feel better were doing any good. “No, I don’t believe you.”
As soon as I felt her hand on my shoulder, I lost it. I didn't bother with words, instead, letting my sobs fill the awkward silence. Allegra stood there and took it, stroking my back like my mother used to when I was a kid. Back then I’d ball my eyes out, complaining about the other girls picking on me for some reason or another. She’d tell me they were just jealous of me, that they had to bring me down to make themselves feel better. She’d kiss my forehead and say that someday I’d meet someone amazing. Some rich businessman or prince. Even then I knew she was living vicariously through me. Wishing for a life that didn’t include living from paycheck to paycheck.
If she could only see me now, I thought bitterly, a fresh wave of sadness washing over me. There’d be no back stroking or trying to make me feel better— just yelling that I screwed up my ticket to the good life.
When the well was dry, I gave Allegra a bleary smile. I knew Jacob well enough to know he didn't tell her much more than to pick me up and take me to the airport. Anyone else would have been chomping at the bit to find out what went down. Not Allegra.
"I really screwed up," I said hoarsely, grabbing a wad of tissue. One swipe and it was a soggy clump. “I’ve ruined everything.”
"We all make mistakes, Leila."
"Not like this." I shook my head from side to side. "And after we were so close...so close."
The quiet rushed back in and I swept a bunch of clothes to the floor and plopped onto the bed. Allegra stood like a sentry a few feet away, waiting for me to talk, to cry, to do whatever I needed.
"Things were so good with us," I said after a minute. "Like we were finally building something together."
"You were building something,” Allegra said quietly. “When Jacob called me a few days ago, I just knew. I hadn't heard that—something—in his voice in a long time. He was happy." She gave my hand a pat. "And that is because of you."
"Not anymore," I said weakly. I picked at invisible lint on my skirt. I'd barely taken the tags off it. Not even wrinkles and teardrops could sully the high quality fabric. I glanced at the couture dresses and blouses strewn on the floor and bed, thinking over the lavishness of my beautiful room in this beautiful country. Now that I was losing all of it, it all seemed so pointless. I didn't care about the jets, the clothes, the five star hotel...I cared about him. Losing him felt like I was being split in half. A part of me would do what he wanted and go my way, but the other part would remain, haunting the dream of what we were meant to be.