Training Her Curves - Dallas (A BBW Billionaire Domination and Submission Romance) (6 page)

Part of me -- the part that apparently hadn't been introduced to my internal coward -- wanted to retaliate with a similar state of undress in the morning. But I knew that if he had bothered to look me in the eye on those mornings, he would have seen desire sparking in my green gaze. I would see hard glass and nothing more staring back at me.

So I didn't leave my room in anything less than the clothes I would wear to the studio. And I stayed in my room more and more.

I thought it would go on like that forever until I was getting ready to head to the studio at the end of week three. Jake stopped me as I walked toward the front door.

"Give me a few more minutes, Alexa."

I turned, relieved to see that he was in dark slacks and an equally dark sweater instead of just the towel. He had keys in his hand, but seemed to be searching for something. Waiting, I said nothing.

"My briefcase..." he mumbled, his torso dipping down as he looked under the long table in front of the floor to ceiling glass doors that opened onto the balcony.

"It's not in your office?" I asked, wishing he'd get around to whatever he wanted to say to me before I left.

His cheeks flashed red and I saw the slightest hint of an eye roll before he went down the hall, disappeared for a second then returned with his briefcase. "Okay, I'm ready."

More confused than ever, I stared at him.

"I need to go into the studio. Your attorney agreed to meet us there."

"Oh..." I knew my jaw was likely brushing against the top of my Italian leather boots, but it took me a few seconds to recover and ask, "Why do you need to go in?"

His jewel-like gaze sparkled at me and I anticipated his sarcastic answer before it shot past his lips.

"Because I'm paying him."

"Whatever." I pulled the front door open and stepped into the private hallway where the elevator was located. My blood was at a slow boil. I had said that I would pay for the attorney -- but securing the right firm to do the job was more than a matter of money. Most clients don't choose one of the top firms, the firm choses the client. I quickly found my selection of attorneys limited to the kind who worked out of their homes or in the office equivalent of strip malls.

Until the Kehoe name came up...

"Yeah, whatever," he replied with a soft chuckle that surprised me.

Waiting for the elevator, I avoided looking at him. My cheeks stung with the knowledge that the most pleasantly voiced words I'd heard from Jake in three weeks were nothing more than a smart ass retort to my smart ass retort. Mostly, he hadn't spoken at all.

Jake pushed the button that would take us down to the garage then fiddled with some app on his phone until the doors opened to let us out. He had borrowed one of Riona's vehicles for the duration of his stay in Dallas.

A gun metal Audi R8, it made my ovaries weep the first time I saw it. This would be the first time I actually sat in the thing. Jake reached the car before me, his long legs taking him around to the passenger side. He opened my door and waited for me to slide inside before shutting me in. I watched him walk around the front of the vehicle. As low as the car sat, all I could see was the middle slice of his height -- gorgeous ass, sleek waist, powerful thighs and...

I caught my breath at the side view. The slacks were tighter at the crotch than they had been in the penthouse. The man was fully erect. I couldn't fathom why, but I pulled my skirt a little lower down my legs so that there was barely a gap between the hem and the top of my boots. Just a peek of my lower thighs and I would have visually erased even that glimpse of my flesh if I could.

Jake folded his long frame into the driver's seat and we were off. I kept sneaking surreptitious glances at his lap -- until he noticed.

Sort of.

"Something on your mind?" he asked as he signaled the next to last turn we would take in reaching the manufacturing offices and Riona's studio.

"No," I mumbled.

"You keep looking over here." The car pulled to a stop at the traffic light.

Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief. We were almost at our destination. I could see the next light. We would turn there. The building's drive was just a quarter mile later. I could talk that long without admitting any kind of curiosity or guilt.

Curiosity...

I forced a smile to my face as I found an excuse for all those glances. "It's just that I've never seen the inside of one of these. The dash looks like it belongs in a plane."

"Next time, you can drive."

His voice sounded distracted. I looked around the street and saw why. A news van was at the next light, it's signal on for the same left turn we would take.

"It's local," I noticed. "Maybe it's not for us."

I really didn't want to spend any more time in the car with Jake. I could smell the way his cologne intimately covered his skin, the scent warmed by his body heat. The car's interior admitted no outside noise, leaving the rhythm of his breathing audible. I could hear mine as well and it was speeding up.

As heavenly as the leather seats felt against my bottom, they were new and I had begun to shift restlessly against them. That was another thing we could both hear. The longer we were locked together inside the vehicle, the more tense I would grow.

"You should just take the turn," I suggested. "We can always drive by if they pull into the building's lot or anything like that."

I watched as a scowl crawled down his face, but he merged into the turn lane and flicked the control stick for the indicator light. We were right behind the van at that point. The green arrow lit and we moved forward. Even with all of our attention focused on the van, we barely missed slamming against it when the driver made a hard left in front of the studio and quickly backed up to block our lane.

"Damn," Jake growled and threw the car into reverse, his foot still on the brake. Looking in the rearview mirror, his face reddened.

Glancing over my shoulder, I wanted to puke. Ruth and Donald where behind us in a white sedan. My gaze jumped forward to the news van. The driver was still inside but the side door slid open and a cameraman came out, a male in a business suit holding a microphone following a second later.

"Stay in the car," Jake warned as he put the vehicle in park and reached for his door handle.

I placed my hand over his arm, my voice quivering as I pleaded with him. "Stay with me."

His head turned slowly in my direction. Fire burned in his eyes. He shook his head, the motion glacial and resolute. "No, Alexa."

He got out, swiftly hitting the door lock before slamming the door. I pulled my phone from my bag and quickly dialed Marjolein's number. Twisting in my seat while I waited for her to answer, I watched Jake reach through the driver side window of the sedan and rip Donald out of the car.

The camera man rushed past the Audi. Frantically, one hand holding the phone to my ear, I struggled to unlatch my seat belt. I couldn't see Donald, but I saw Jake's arm rearing back. It smashed forward, reared back again, this time with blood on it.

The cameraman kept on filming while the other guy had the microphone to his face, his lips moving rapidly. I jumped out of the car then pressed myself flat against it as Mishka raced past me. He ripped the video camera out of the photographer's grip and smashed it to the ground. Bending down, he scooped up the memory disc and pocketed it.

Moving forward to restrain Jake, the big Russian took one last shot at the camera by smashing his boot down on the device and then he slammed his boss against the back of the Audi and restrained Jake with a forearm against his throat.

"Don't make me hurt you, Nazarov," Jake barked.

Without hesitation, I placed my hand on Jake's shoulder. "Please, stop."

Tears streamed down my cheeks. I moved closer and eased Mishka out of the way so that I was the only thing stopping Jake from attacking Donald again.

"He's not worth it," I begged. Guilt flooded through me at the thought that Jake and Mishka might be in the back of a cop car on their way to jail before the morning was over.

Everything I touched turned to shit!

Jake pulsed forward. I braced myself in anticipation of having him push me aside, but he wrapped his arms around me and drew me tight against his chest.

"He hurt you, Alexa," he said, his hand protectively cradling the back of my head. "They both did."

"It's in the past," I sobbed, my face buried against his shoulder as he hugged me more fiercely.

"No, it's here, between us. You carry it with you every day. Until you let it go, it will always be your past, your present and your future."

I knew he was right, but I shook my head in denial. He didn't continue arguing with me, just held me as more people joined the scene. I heard the familiar voices of the Kehoe security guards, then Marjolein and Riona.

Other voices I didn't recognize threw accusations into the air. And then I heard the one voice I dreaded more than any of the others.

Ruth -- the mother who was supposed to protect me as a child, a selfish woman who had wanted to lock me away to keep her husband's dirty little secret and her expensive new lifestyle safe. As unfathomable as it might be to some, Ruth's sin had hurt me far more than Donald's.

"First, you're going to jail," she screamed at Jake, her finger jabbing the air behind my back until it finally landed against my flesh.

Jake tensed, his arms moving to shield me against another poke. Turning, he pushed me toward the safety of Marjolein and Riona, who instantly crowded against me.

"Then, you're going to the poorhouse for what you did to my Donald!"

Horrified, I watched Jake advance on my mother. For each step he took forward, Ruth took one away from him until she butted against the hood of her car and leaned back against it as if she would crawl away.

Jake stopped a foot from her, his voice deadly low as he spoke. "For you, I won't break my rule against touching a woman in anger."

He slid half a foot closer, his body trembling with rage.

"But mark my words, woman. You come near Alexa again or say a word against her, I'll ruin you to the point you're ready to slit your fucking wrists."

He growled the last few words, his palms slamming down against the hood of the car on either side of Ruth. As much fury as crowded Jake's features, my mother's were lit with a righteous indignation.

"There will be protestors with signs outside his work, your home..." Lowering his head until their eyes were level, Jake snapped his teeth at her before finishing. "And your church. Everyone will know what he did and what you tried to cover up."

Ruth's face froze. Her entire body looked as if Jake had just poured cement over her. In a slow drip, I watched her shoulders immobilize and then her chest. Her arms flattened against her sides, the hands motionless.

Jake turned to Riona, his gaze never crossing mine. "Take Alexa inside."

She and Marjolein nodded, their hands wrapping gently around my arms to direct me toward the building. I let them lead me, my brain and body numb. By the time we reached Riona's office, the numbness had disappeared and I was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

Marjolein barked an order for someone to brew me a cup of tea. Both women then sat me down on the couch, their bodies embracing me as I dissolved into tears once more.

"He shouldn't have gotten out of the car, I begged him not to," I said, more to myself than the women holding me.

"He did exactly what he should have," Marjolein protested.

"No," Riona disagreed. "He should have pummeled the man into the street and he damn well would have if Mishka hadn't stopped him."

Marjolein murmured her approval, but I kept shaking my head. "He could go to jail."

Riona snorted. "Not happening, honey. You know all the leverage your parents had over you just because you were a kid?"

I nodded, not quite following her line of reasoning.

"Multiply that by ten -- no, by a hundred."

My tears had plastered my hair against my face. Riona delicately brushed the strands aside.

"Jake will have a few discreet words with someone at the top of the police department or the mayor's office. Someone else will have a few discreet words with that asshole and the bitch who was in no way fit to birth you. A fucker like that, he's dirty all over the place. There's bound to be evidence at his home or office--"

"And if there's not," Marjolein answered, "Mishka knows a few people who can make sure there is."

A wicked smile flashed across Riona's face. She leaned closer, her forehead resting against mine. "I know what Jake did might have scared you, but he's a good man. And good men don't go to jail."

"I know," I whispered. Hell, before I had gathered up the courage to go to my mother, I had fantasized about setting Donald on fire. I had even gone out to the garage and siphoned some gasoline into a tall glass. If what Jake had done made him a monster, I was even worse. I had just been too much of a chicken at fourteen about going to jail for most of my life and being subjected to more abuse that I wouldn't be able to run away from.