Read Online The Billionaire's Trust (His Submissive, Part Eleven) by Ava Claire - Free Book Online

arriving."
    As much as I wanted to snap back, I
knew I needed to save that for the person waiting in my
office.
    Rachel.
    Ugh.
    From Natasha's eyes shifting back to
her computer, I figured the conversation was over. For the first
time since I'd met the woman I found myself wanting to linger. Ask
about her stylist. Was she Team Vampire, Team Were, or Team Zombie?
Anything that would prolong the inevitable. I just wasn't ready to
see Rachel's face.
    Sensing that I missed her end of
conversation nonverbal cues, she slowly lifted her gaze back to
me.
    "Can I help you?"
    Think of something! "Uh,
thank you for all you do." Wow that was terrible. I was
surprised I'd gotten the lie out with a straight face.
    She rolled her eyes. "Uh huh. Look,
the poor girl has been waiting to see you for hours--"
    A spark of hope flashed through me.
"Girl?"
    "Yes. Mia Kent."
    A smile dashed across my face. "Oh,
thank God ."
    Natasha pushed blond strands behind
her ear, eyeing me strangely. "I wouldn't thank him yet. She wasn't
happy when she stomped in two hours ago and I imagine she's even
less so now."
    Uh oh. I booked it down the
corridor, pushing into my office as I dropped my smile and picked
up a frown. The desk was littered with takeout cups and empty
pastry bags. I would have let the mess and clear disrespect for my
things slide if she hasn't made herself at home, feet up on the
desk, powdered sugar covered digits typing away on my
keyboard.
    "What the hell?"
    She froze mid-sentence, fingers
posed above the keys, aqua eyes jumping from the computer screen.
"Where the hell have you been?" She kicked her worn chucks off the
table and stood up. Her getup was somewhere between rockabilly and
cocaine chic. She paired a sheer, oversized blouse with liquid
leggings. Her hair was tucked under a trucker hat. The only thing
worth noting was a lack of ten layers of makeup on her face.
Without the stuff gunked on her eyelids, I had no problem seeing
just how pissed she was.
    I put aside my annoyance at the
mess. "I was at the hospital."
    Her anger dissipated. "What? Are you
okay?"
    I nodded, moving to the chair in
front or my desk and balling up a pile of empty wrappers and
lowering myself with a sigh. "I'm fine. It's Jacob's mother that's
not doing so well." I looked up at her. "Heart attack."
    She peered at me curiously. "I'm
sorry?"
    I gave her the smallest of smile.
"We don't get along, but I don't actively wish her ill."
    She smirked, repeating the two words
with more authority. "I'm sorry. For Jacob." She made a face like
she was remembering she'd come for a reason and it wasn't to
deliver a verbal Hallmark card. "So when were you gonna tell me
about Project Save Poor Mia?"
    I cringed. "Yeah, about that..." She
stood there, hand on hip, waiting. What could I say? It was bad
form to gossip about one client to another. "I'll take care of
it."
    "Righttt," she said, voicing
dripping  with sarcasm. "Just how are you going to take care
of it? I have people texting and emailing me, asking me things
like, 'Is Rachel as hot in person as she is onscreen?' and 'How
sweet is Rachel for trying to help you?'. As if I needed any other
proof that this whole thing had nothing to do with me."
    I stared at her in awe. I knew Mia
was smarter than people gave her credit for, but I couldn't stop
the swell of pride at how she'd come here and confronted me,
calling bullshit--even if her anger at me was misplaced. Someone
that didn't care about their life wouldn't care, but Mia
did.
    I shook off the moment, tightening
the bun at the nape of my neck. "You have every right to be angry
at this situation--"
    "At the situation?" she snapped.
"No, I'm mad at her --and I'm disappointed in
you."
    That hurt worse than any blow she
could have dealt. We'd only known each other for a month, but it
felt like I'd always known her. She could be a bit much with the
texts and early morning calls, but despite my grumblings I loved
that I was the number she called when she was stressed or