Page 12 of The Billionaire's Desire

Her face twisted like she was sucking on a lemon before she shrugged and picked it back up. “I’ll be more than happy to drink it myself.”

“You do that.”

“It’s not always you against the world, Leila. Why can’t I do something nice for you?”

“Oh please,” I scoffed, leaning back in my chair. “I would be all kinds of stupid to believe you’re completely above board. You’ve had it out for me since I walked through the door. And you’re buddies with Rachel--”

“Friends with Rachel?” She laughed like that was the funniest joke she’d heard in a long time. “I know you’re not talking about Rachel Laraby.”

I didn’t even crack a grin. “I think we both know that’s exactly who I’m talking about.”

Missy flipped her bone straight midnight hair over her shoulder with a snort. “Rachel Laraby and I aren’t friends. She treats anyone that works for her like they were born for the sole purpose of being at her beck and call.”

I faltered. I hadn’t been expecting our Rachel’s to line up. I was expecting her to sing Rachel’s praises and talk about how they bonded over caldrons, full moons, and a mutual dislike of me. But they’d been together at the party...it didn’t match up with the slighted disposition in front of me.

“I thought...” I swallowed, making sure I stripped any emotion except for indifference from my voice. “I just assumed you were friends.” And that’s why you were trying to make friendship bracelets with me over coffee. Rachel’s little spy.

“No,” she replied, raising her chin. “Rachel Laraby is a client and nothing more.”

Putting together the pieces of the puzzle that was Jacob Whitmore had sharpened my people reading skills. I didn’t even have to try to tell that something had gone down between Missy and Rachel. Did Missy see a kindred spirit in the Head Bitch In Charge department and try to strike up a friendship only to get shut down? The idea of Rachel putting Missy in her place brought me more pleasure than it should have.

Still, I was a little leery about letting bygones be bygones. “I was trying to get ready for the meeting, so if that’s all…”

“Oh,” Missy’s high cheekbones darkened as her lips ticked awkwardly. Message received. “I guess I’ll leave you to it.”

She turned on her heels, stilettos tapping on the floor as she left the way she came. I watched as she went, wondering if she’d whirl around and tell me that she was tired of kissing my ass. Jekyll and Hyde and prove that showing her the door was obviously the right choice. But there wasn’t indignation coloring her features when she turned back to me at the door. She was genuinely remorseful. I almost swore her eyes were glassy with tears.

“I know that I’ve been downright cruel to you,” she started. “But I’m trying to make up for it. I hope we can climb over this hurdle at some point.”

Great. Now I felt guilty.

“Missy,” I called out before she could exit. “I’ll take that cup of coffee after all.”

She turned around, dark eyes double their normal size. But she didn’t ask questions, walking back to my desk and holding out the cup.

I took it and put it beside me. It was more a gesture than anything else.

She scanned the room as she worked her way to the armchair in front of my desk. “It looks nice in here. Understated. But every piece has a function.”

“I guess that intro to decorating course paid off,” I said with an almost smile. Wow. Was I really here, playing nice with Missy Diaz? Relaxing when she flashed me a legitimate grin?

“It’s good that you’re putting down roots,” she said after a minute. “The others didn’t even unpack their cardboard boxes. It was like they knew it was temporary. But not you.”

“Not me,” I said quietly, glancing away. There were moments when I wondered if it was all a dream, that Jacob would snap out of it and send me packing. But my heart had other plans. It wouldn’t let me walk away. And even though Jacob set up an obstacle course around his own, I couldn’t take the easy way out either. Sure, working for Whitmore and Creighton was my dream. I lived for tough situations, careers to fix, and going to Cade’s movie premiere was like a pilgrimage to the Promised Land. But hands down, I wouldn’t trade a single moment with Jacob. That was worth everything.

I realized I was zoning out and Missy was watching me. I cleared my throat and smoothed my hair away from my face. “I’m sure you’ve seen a lot of faces coming and going. You’ve been with the company for…five years?”

She snorted. “I started working here after I graduated and I wish that was only five years ago. It’s closer to fifteen years.”

“Fifteen? So you worked with...”

“Mmhm,” she answered with a hint of reverence that rubbed me the wrong way.

It was crazy how neither of us said Carlton Whitmore’s name. Hers was out of some bizarre sense of respect--and for me, it was like I was afraid he’d rise from the dead and eat my flesh.

I leaned forward, intensely curious. “How was it? Working for him?”

“Carlton Whitmore was amazing,” she said with stars in her eyes. “He knew how the business worked since he was a part of the establishment.” She stopped, giving me a peevish look. “Between you and me, I think the fact that Hollywood chewed him up and spit him out drove him. He knew what it was like to have his movies on the marquis. To be big time--and he knew what it was like to lose it all.”

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