"Jacob..."
He spun me around to face him, holding me so tight that there was nothing but his arms, the warm musk of him, and the steady rise and fall of his chest. A part of me just wanted to stay that way, wrapped up in him with the rest of the world a faint hum in the background, but Alicia's voice crawled back in.
Why else would you sign a sexual contract with a man you hardly knew?
It was only one sentence but in those words were daggers that opened up old wounds, reminding me of the shame I used to feel over the way Jacob and I began and the reason behind my promotion. I’d already endured so many sleepless nights, terrified that all I’d ever be was a submissive. And even though I’d earned my keep at Whitmore and Creighton, the whispers and silence when I walked into rooms still got to me.
I could care less what Rachel thought of me, but Jacob's mother? Her animosity was devastating. Did she really think I was going to take her blank check, blow Jacob one last kiss and breeze out the door?
"She hates me," I said hoarsely, realizing how important her acceptance of me really was.
"I'm so sorry, baby. I knew she no longer supported us, but I never thought..." His grip tightened and I knew that he was hurting and he too was trying to escape in this embrace.
So I held on. I tried to relax. She was gone. He'd made it crystal clear that he loved me. It was all I ever wanted. All I ever needed. But this dread, this overwhelming sickness was still wrapped around my heart. This was more than just his mother. This was old shit. Mountains of drama that I thought was in our rearview mirror.
Rachel Laraby.
I pulled away, tilting my eyes up to meet his warily. "She's back, isn't she?"
His brows dipped into a frown. "Rachel--you think she's behind this?"
"Who else would send her a public service announcement, warning her that you were about to marry a gold digging skank?" I scowled. "That's classic Rachel."
He sliced the air with his arm, like he was banishing her from the room. "I don't want to talk about her. If she was trying to sabotage us again, her efforts were futile." He pushed brown corkscrews behind my ear, his hands framing my face. "It's me and you, Leila. Always."
I nuzzled his hand, closing my eyes tight. Praying for this feeling to go away. To let go of things I had no control over. I couldn’t make his mother like me. I couldn’t make Rachel disappear. But I had Jacob.
He was enough—he’d always been enough. But I couldn’t dull the anger flushing through my veins even though it was so clear that she wanted to get under my skin and make me doubt. Every second I spent thinking about her was a point in her favor--and right now, Rachel was winning.
They say laughter is the best medicine...I was betting on something else entirely.
I covered his hands with my own, silencing my worries. I focused on the man standing in front of me. "Kiss me."
He leaned down, brushing his lips over mine. "With pleasure."
When our lips collided, I breathed in his taste, warm with hints of citrus and mint. I gave into the flashes of desire uncoiling in my belly, clutching how right it felt to surrender to his mouth. I let his tongue roam and tease, melting into him as he caressed my lips with his own, clasping me to him like he needed this. Needed to forget the last fifteen minutes; to forget that she was back.
My eyes popped open and I pulled away. I wanted him, but I couldn't get images of Rachel's smirk out of my head.
The only way I'd get any peace would be if I talked to her. Not like before when I was worried about her mental health, trying to ease her into the fact that she'd never have Jacob again. I could care less if she couldn’t handle the truth--I was going to throw her face first into the fact that I was not going to let her ruin us.
His eyes skimmed my face, souring when he figured out why I'd pulled on the stony faced look of someone going to war. "Confronting Rachel is a bad idea, Leila. You know this is exactly what she wants, right? To get our attention? To get in our head?"
I moved past him, forgetting about breakfast and marching upstairs to put on some armor of my own. "Mission accomplished."
****
I stood beside Jacob, squeezing his hand tight as the elevator dinged, the arrow illuminating and alerting us that Satan was in the building.
Since it was Saturday afternoon, Natasha had the day off and was busy sharpening her nails to talons or making someone else’s life hell. I was glad that she was far from an over-achiever because I was 99.9% sure if given the option for a front row seat to this conversation she would have shown up, popcorn in hand. Dealing with Rachel would be tiring enough. The elevator doors hadn’t even slid open and I already felt like I’d gone through a battle, clutching Jacob’s hand for strength.
“It’ll be fine,” he assured me, releasing my hand and tightening the knot on his tie. “She’s going to admit she was behind this, cease her incessant meddling and then she’s going to get the hell out of my building.”
He seemed so confident, so sure. And on some rational level, I knew he was right. Rachel wasn’t the Boogeyman. She didn’t have any supernatural abilities or power that we didn’t give her.
In all honesty, I was starting to regret calling her to the Whitmore building at all. Jacob was right when he said we should have let it go. Focus on what mattered. Focus on us. But there was this niggling feeling, this itching thought that wouldn’t go away. We’d been ignoring her and that hadn’t worked. What if she needed to hear flat out that she was wasting her energy; that she and Jacob were never, ever getting back together?
But second thoughts were irrelevant. The chrome doors pulled back and revealed the one person I’d be happy never meeting again.
Rachel was clad in a crisp, navy sheath dress. The rectangular neckline drew the eye to her swan-like neck and two goliath-sized diamonds in her ears. Her chocolate brown locks were shorter than I remembered, cut in layers with honey colored highlights glittering throughout. She pushed her oversized shades to the crown of her head, her dramatic gasp of delight matching the smoky eye shadow that framed her jade green eyes and the rouge gloss at her lips.
“Glad to see you two made it back on the other side of the pond in one piece.” She said with a smile so big and phony it contradicted every single word. “And if the rumors are true, I feel so honored that you left your love nest to spend your Saturday afternoon with me.”
“Trust me, I have about a hundred places I’d rather be than standing here looking at you,” Jacob said tersely, glaring at her with such disdain that I felt it flowing off him in waves. “I’m in no mood for games, Rachel. The quicker we get this over with, the quicker we can go our separate ways.”