Home > The Billionaire's Trust (His Submissive #11)(11)

The Billionaire's Trust (His Submissive #11)(11)
Author: Ava Claire

Her big brown eyes were reduced to slits when she turned her ire to Rachel. “Ms. Laraby, I was unaware of any conference scheduled for this morning.”

The list of staff at Whitmore and Creighton who hadn’t ignored or gossiped about me when I leapt from aide to personal assistant to CEO was a small one--and Monique’s name was on it. That being said, we weren’t buddy-buddy either. She was an older woman and a student of the school of work being work and personal time and socializing things to be done when you were off the clock. She had a domineering presence and even Rachel shrank back a little bit before she rolled her shoulders back and gave Monique a chilly smile.

“Always a pleasure, Monique.” She gestured at the area that had just been jam packed with people with cameras and questions. “It was just a tiny announcement, nothing to worry yourself with.”

“I’m the head of the press and public relations department at Whitmore and Creighton,” Monique replied, matching Rachel’s cool tone. “That means anything that involves the press, Whitmore and Creighton, and our clients is absolutely my concern.” The brown eyes that usually gave me a warm smile were anything but friendly when she got me in her sights. “You should have run this by me first, Ms. Montgomery.”

I shook my head emphatically. “This was my first time hearing about any of this.” There were no other ears within listening distance so I had no problem chunking Rachel beneath the bus.

Rachel’s eyes flashed, not going down without a fight. “Hold on one second--”

“Inside,” Monique hissed, leading us inside the building. Once we were through the door, I wanted to put as many floors between me and Rachel as possible, but I knew this conversation wasn’t over, so I followed Monique to the coffee shop on the first floor.

There were only a few employees near the back, typing furiously on laptops and a barista stocking the sugars on the island near the door. My mouth watered as the smell of brewing coffee hit me like a punch to the gut. Since the only way to get caffeine five minutes ago would have been sucking on my blouse, I’d consigned to just grabbing something after I checked in with Jacob. I opened my mouth to say I’d be right back, but snapped it shut when I saw Monique hadn’t brought us in here to bond over a cup of coffee.

Rachel completely missed the memo.

“I’ll take a triple soy latte, as dry as possible,” she said, sauntering over to a table with a sigh liked she’d just done something terribly exhausting.

Monique didn’t even flinch. “Tell me about the program.”

Rachel shrugged a bare shoulder. “It’s all on the website. Ask Leila.”

“What?” I said shrilly, shaking my head again and dodging the darts Monique hurled my way. “I have no idea what’s going on--”

“Leila, this isn’t the time for modesty,” Rachel said, pulling her shades from the top of her head and placing them on the table. “Reach was a fantastic idea and is going to garner so much positive capital with the public.”

The tight line of Monique’s jaw relaxed slightly, like she hadn’t thought about it from that angle. She walked over to the table where Rachel sat and pulled out a chair, lowering herself slowly. Still suspicious, but listening.

I caught Rachel’s eye over Monique’s head and mouthed, “What the f**k!” but her smirk told me that I was along for the ride, whether I wanted to be or not. I forced a smile when Monique whipped around to me, gesturing at the seat beside her.

“So tell me more about this program.”

Rachel looked at me and when I croaked, she filled in the blanks. “We’re still working out the kinks, but it’s an outreach program, dedicated to helping troubled youth and young adults. When I started following Mia Kent’s story and tragic suicide attempt, I saw so much of myself in her. This business can be amazing and terrible and I know if I would have had a veteran actress who’d been there and could steer me in the right direction, maybe I wouldn’t have made some of the mistakes that still haunt me to this day.”

So now she was Mother Theresa. This would have been all well and good if not for the fact that she’d completely made up my involvement in this operation. Monique was nodding, probably imagining all the goodwill the company could garner with an organization like this, but I knew that if Rachel Laraby was involved, there had to be some sort of ulterior motive.

Rachel swept her hair over her shoulder, drawing a breath and releasing it slowly. “That being said, I knew that Leila had a personal relationship with Mia and would be best suited for approaching her and asking her to be a part of this process. I fully intended to discuss this with Mia first, but the press heard the rumblings of it and found me as I was on my way to schedule it with Leila.”

“I didn’t have anything with you on the books--” I began.

“Right,” Rachel interjected. “Which is why I came in bright and early, hoping to talk to you first thing, but Natasha informed me you weren’t in. I was on my way out of the building when I was cornered.”

So now the on-the-fly press conference my fault because I was running late.

Monique’s lips pursed together as she looked over at me. “In the future, I want anything that involves the Whitmore and Creighton brand run by me first.”

I wanted to protest, to tell her that Rachel was lying, plotting, but she was already up, making her way out of the coffee shop.

Leaving me alone with her.

Rachel picked at her nails dismissively. “Could you be a dear and grab a coffee for me? I’ve been so busy getting our organization up and running--”

“Our organization?” I said incredulously. “The fictitious organization I didn’t even know existed until ten minutes ago?”

“That’s right,” she said coolly. “With your caring and giving nature, I figured you’d be elated that I involved you.”

“I’m not elated about anything that involves our names being uttered in the same breath,” I said brusquely. I jerked my chair back, drawing the eye of the two staff members and not really caring. “I don’t know what you have planned, but I’m going to talk to Monique and tell her that it has nothing to do with me. And if you do anything to Mia--”

Rachel let out a haughty chuckle. “Just what do you expect me to do to her, Leila?”

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully, standing to my feet. “And that’s what worries me.”

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